Without Faith or Fear: the story of a soul

Front matter

Mr J. E. Muddock's Powerful Story of Bohemia STRIPPED OF THE TINSEL Fourth Edition, Crown 8vo, Cloth, 6s. ' The author describes some extremely interesting scenes and incidents in a very realistic manner. The story is very interesting, not unfrequently pathetic, reveals wide acquaintance with the world. The story is well planned, and well rounded off with some interesting sketches of London journalistic life, and it is written throughout with excellent discretion and good sense.' — Scotsman. ' These pictures are drawn by a powerful ha.ncl.'—Du?idee Advertiser. ' It gives us peeps behind the scenes in the lives of actors and actresses, of lawyers barristers, and judges, of pressmen, of clergymen, of members of the Savage Club, of military men, and of ladies married and ladies unmarried, . . .

It is scarcely necessary to state that Mr Muddock possesses a powerful pen, but "Stripped of the Tinsel " should certainly prove as great a success as either of his numerous books.' — Western Daily Met cm-y. 1 Remarkable for some strikingly dramatic situations.' — Public Opinion. ' The story is marked by some masterly strokes. The author wields a powerful and facile pen.' — Aberdeen Free Press, ' Broadly considering the whole, we must at once admit that the writer has given us such a powerfully written story of Bohemian life that we cannot, if we would, scamp the pages of his book. Its interest is intense, and never for a moment flags.' — Belfast News Letter. ' The book is deeply interesting from beginning to end.' — Yorkshire Post. ' A work of undeniable power. The chapters are crowded with incidents, the char acters are drawn with skill, and live and move before us, the book holds and interests us to the end.'— Bradford Observer. ' Excellent, well conceived, and abounds in vigorous situations.' — Star. ' This very striking and remarkable story.

The vigour and ability which Mr Muddock shows in his descriptions of bohemian and theatrical life . . . from beginning to end the story abundantly evidences Mr Muddock's very considerable skill in plot construc tion.' — Bookseller. ' A story full of strong and sterling interest.'— Belfast Northern Whig. ' Mr Muddock's graphic descriptions will be warmly welcomed by the ever widening section of the public who are anxious to psychologically penetrate certain phases of existence denied them in the ordinary way.' — Whitehall Review. ' A novel of considerable power, and one not likely to be overlooked by those who wish to read a graphic and original " Story of Bohemia." ' — Westminster Review. ' The tbook is thoroughly interesting, and will be welcomed by those familiar with the ways of London Bohemia.' — Nottingham Guardian (second notice).

Chapter I The Village Of Dreams

Moorvale could fairly claim to be one of the most beau tiful spots in beautiful Devon. Situated in a cosy nook, and entirely sheltered from the chilling winds that blew from the North and East, it enjoyed a balminess of at mosphere and an equability of temperature that could not be surpassed anywhere in the British Islands. This salubrity was strikingly evidenced by the hedge-rows of fuchsias that were at once the wonder of visitors and the pride of the inhabitants. It had come to be said as a sort of local witticism that Moorvale had a special sun of its own. One thing was certain, if the sun did shine anywhere on the British Islands that favoured spot got a very full share of it. Sometimes in the winter weather the sea mists would roll up the vale, but even that was rare, and a persistent fog was a thing absolutely unknown.

Lying as it did out of the beaten track of the hurrying tourist it enjoyed a peacefulness all its own, for even the railway only skirted its outer fringe and the distance of the nearest station from the village was but a little under seven miles. It is true the antiquarian, the archæologist, A the botanist, the artist found their way there but they were students, and trod the place with reverent feet and observed with thoughtful minds. Occasionally when the howling winds raved in the channel the boom of the sea on the rock-bound coast could be heard in a subdued way in Moorvale, but this only served to remind the people how far they were removed from the passionate fret of the great world which was so close to them and yet so far off. Moorvale was a long - way - behind - date village. It was a restful place, a dreamy place, with a repose about it that was good for jaded brains and over worked bodies.

The community aggregated about two thousand souls, simple-minded people for the most part, with but a limited knowledge of the outer world. For many years the Rev. Dimsdale Fleting had had spiritual charge of them. In more or less intimate relations with them all, he had in a certain sense been their father. They looked up to him as their adviser, their teacher, their guide, their comforter in affliction, their spiritual monitor who in accordance with his lights and leanings interpreted to them the sacred Word of God. The Rev. Dimsdale Fleting represented a long line of preachers. It was remarkable of them that none had aspired to, or at any rate, none had reached any of the high places in the Church. They seemed to have been modest men who were content to walk humbly, displaying no pride, no craving for earthly gains, but looking earnestly for their reward when the work of life should be done ; and believing with an unshakable faith that God takes especial care of His servants.

Some of Mr Fleting's ancestors had suffered for conscience' sake, but that was in the days when intolerance and rampant bigotry were under no restraint of moral right ; and when it was sought to warp men's thoughts in accordance wlth'the views of those who were pleased to con sider themselves specially ordained by heaven to teach truth and spread the light. Mr Fleting was born in happier times. His childhood and youth had been as peaceful and as happy as it was possible to be. Trained in the strictly orthodox faith, and carefully guarded from all outward influences that were calculated to set him questioning, he had passed along the groove furrowed out for him until in due course he was received into the Church as one of its teachers. He had from very early days been an intense lover of books ; and his mind was richly stored with the lore of writers ; but of the practical side of life, it may safely be said, he knew little or nothing.

In disposition he was singularly altruistic ; in character he reached a standard which perhaps came as near perfection as it is possible for any man to attain to in this world. Soon after his ordination he accepted a small living in Cumberland, but being delicately constituted he could not stand the rigours of the northern climate and a vacancy occurring in the curacy of a Devonshire parish he was appointed to it, and in the fulness of time this led to his obtaining the living of Moorvale. Nothing could have been more suited to his tastes than the sweetly picturesque spot. Here his deeply religious zeal found full vent, and his poetical temperament was fostered and took practical shape in hymns and poems all tinged with the fervent sentiment of his nature to which religion in its most exalted sense was an imperative necessity.

In his worldly endowment he was no less fortunate. His father had been enabled to settle a modest fortune upon him, and he took to him self as wife a Devonshire lady who augmented his means so considerably that he was enabled to practise with a lavish hand the charity he so fervently preached. Three children had blessed his union, two girls and a boy, the boy being the first-born. Ruth, Mary and David were the respective names bestowed upon them and it seemed as if they were destined to follow the calm way of their people. David was a fine lad with a physical robustness — inherited from his mother — to which his father had been a stranger. Being intended for the Church, his training was carried out with that strict regard for ethics and the orthodox faith of his forefathers which was necessary to fit him for the position, it was hoped, he would one day take.

We meet him now when he has reached manhood's estate in the eyes of the law. His coming of age had but recently been celebrated, and to those who had watched his career he seemed to be imbued with the spirit of a deep and abiding faith. And yet it had been noticed, though not with any misgivings — at any rate not with any serious misgivings — that there was a certain restlessness of disposition in him which was unusual in his race. It had been a most marked characteristic of his people that they had never displayed the slightest inclination to swerve either to the right or the left of the narrow track it was intended they should follow. They were noted stay at-homes, closet students for the most part, and content to gain their knowledge of the larger world that lay beyond their own doors, through the medium of other men.

But in David's case there was made manifest a desire to roam farther afield. He was not such a booklover as his father was, and as his grandfather before him had been. The vigour of his constitution sought its outlet in rougher pastimes and the deep religious fervour which was considered the heritage of his kin, was less marked in him than it had been in others of his line, and as it was in his sisters. David Fleting was betrothed to his cousin, Christian Elton. Their births had all but synchronised. He could claim seniority by a few days only. Miss Elton was his mother's niece, and there was no diversity of opinion in regard to her womanly charms. When David and Christian were but babies their parents had agreed that should they both live it would be a felicitous strengthen ing of the family bonds if the young people became man and wife.

And so with that object in view they had, in a sense, been brought up together, and both looked upon it as a matter of course that when circumstances were ripe for the fulfilment of their destiny, as arranged for them by their parents, they would duly enter into the state of holy matrimony. Christian regarded her lover as a man moulded in no common fashion, and she often expressed a belief that he would mark his career with a refulgency which had never been attained by any of his kindred. This belief perhaps, was due to nothing more than a happy conceit and an over estimation of David's mental capacity. Though there is little doubt that if anyone had ventured to hint that David fell short of perfection the person so hinting would have incurred her lasting displeasure. Of Christian Elton herself it is necessary to say she glowed with a pious warmth, and was full of holy zeal for the Church of which she was so proud to be a member.

Her mind was so far narrowed by dogmatic teaching that it seemed incapable alike of expansion or of displaying a single sensitive regard for any opinion which might be in opposition to her own. She recognised only one true way as likely to lead to the everlasting Joy which she had been taught to look forward to, as the certain reward of a life well spent, and that way was the one in which she herself walked with an abiding faith that apparently nothing could shake. All other creeds and forms of worship she classed as ' deadly errors of misguided men,' and deemed it her solemn duty to pray for those who were thus out of the pale. In harsh phraseology this will be termed intolerant bigotry, but Christian was not conscious of any intolerance. Her thoughts had been formed for her ; she had been trained to look along one narrow line only.

But she had so far been supremely happy and contented in her own way. It had not fallen to her lot to know anything of the canker of the world; and its ' slow stain ' had not touched her. Shielded with a jealous regard for her spiritual, moral and physical welfare according to the lights of those who were responsible for her upbringing, she had been confined to an extremely limited sphere of observation, and knew nothing of the world beyond that sphere. But the time was now at hand when she was to be rudely disturbed from her tranquillity. David Fleting had just returned home after a three months' sojourn in London where he had been reading up for an examination. Save to pass through the metropolis once or twice he had never before visited the Great City, and of its glitter and glare, its sorrow and sin, he knew nothing from personal observation.

He had been placed by his father under the care of the Rev. Charles Jarrold, who made coaching a business, and in writing a report to David's father, this gentleman had found it necessary, having a strict regard for truth, to thus express himself about his pupil. ' It grieves me beyond the power of words to describe, to be compelled to say that David has not altogether met my expectations. I have detected in him a certain waywardness, and a tendency to question when he ought to listen. He displays a diligence and a power of application that should enable him to rise to great heights ; but sad to say he seems inclined to run off the beaten track, and to form independent judgments which neither his youth nor his experience qualify him to do. In saying this I am not insinuating that there is anything approaching to viciousness in his nature, although I am rather afraid he is not altogether free from a liability to be fascinated by the meretricious pleasures of the world.

He is not as sincerely devout as I could wish ; and in my humble opinion he fails to attach that serious importance to the holy calling for which he is destined that a youth with his traditions and training should do. In telling you these things I do nothing more than my duty, but I fain would hope that when he is once more subjected to home influences he will steadily tread in the steps of his forefathers, and aspire to shine as one of the lights of the great Christian Church, from which no one can wander without running the risk of eternal sorrow.' This letter had caused a tremendous shock at Moor vale Rectory. The Reverend Dimsdale Fleting had read it with feelings akin to horror, a horror that was fully shared by his wife and his daughters, for Mr Fleting had deemed it right to make them acquainted with what his friend had written.

It unhappily produced a discordant note in the harmony of the Rectory, and for the first time during their married life Mrs Fleting found herself at variance with her husband. It appeared that when the question of David's going to London was first discussed between them she had set her face against it. In her opinion the Metropolis was ' a sink of iniquity,' ' a hotbed of vice ' which were bound to be fatal to the welfare of any young man. But to this Mr Fleting had taken ex ception, he pointed out that the lad would be subjected to a very vigilant supervision, and the influences that would be brought to bear would prevent him from com mitting any errors or straying out of the fold. Now, however, the report that had come strengthened the lady in her views and gave force to the objections she had urged with tears and sighs, so she scolded her husband for having opposed her wishes in the first instance.

Mr Fleting was a simple-minded, peace-loving man, and while willing to concede that to some extent the partner of his joys and sorrows was right, he argued that their son could hardly have been guilty of anything more than the most venial offence ; he maintained that a little gentle chiding would have a salutary and lasting effect upon him, and speedily bring him back to the fold. ' I hope that you are right,' answered his wife, ' I hope it will be so, I pray to God that it may be so, for I would rather follow our dear boy to the grave than live to see him swerve from righteousness. It would break my heart to know that he had transgressed.' 'I think, my dear, that you are perhaps attaching a little too much importance to this report,' said Mr Fleting, deeply touched by his wife's emotion and earnestness. 'I cannot believe that there is any evil in David.

Certainly he would not be true to the tradi tions of his family if he wandered from the beaten track over which so many of his kindred have passed. I admit that such a thing might be possible, but I cannot think it probable, and it is inconceivable to me that the strict training he has received should suddenly lose its influ ence. At any rate I will take him to task. I will ques tion him ; I will endeavour to probe his mind, and should I detect any weakness — which God forbid — I will do my best to strengthen him. But even supposing such a thing should be that I fail, the influence of Christian Elton will be irresistible. The boy loves her, and he is too noble, too honourable, too heroic to cause her one pang of anguish.' Mrs Fleting was a little comforted by her husband's words, for she had unbounded faith in Christian's power over her son.

He had always shown the most tender regard for his cousin, and a disposition to yield to her slightest wish. The remembrance of this afforded Mrs Fleting consolation, and drying her tears she replied to her husband : ' Yes, in Christian we have a power which must suc ceed even if everything else should fail. David, I am sure would no more set himself in opposition to her, than he would think of denying the doctrine of immortality. The love of his cousin will uphold him and guide him to the goal we all desire so much he should reach.' This reflection had a remarkably soothing effect on Mrs Fleting, and she applied herself to her household duties in a very much happier frame of mind. This was enhanced when the evening came and brought Chris tian and some more young people who came to practise part-singing in which they were all greatly interested.

Christian looked unusually charming, and she was at no pains to conceal the delight she felt at her lover's return ; while David on his part appeared to pay her more attention than ever, and to hang on her lightest word. ' Yes,' thought the anxious mother, ' David is as wax in Christian's hands, and Christian is almost a perfect woman. They will walk hand in hand together in per fect love and perfect faith until in God's good time they pass from the corruptible to the incorruptible.' All unconscious of the report that had been sent by his tutor and of what the morrow had in store for him, David abandoned himself to the happiness of the hour, and the eager looks with which he followed the move ments of his beautiful cousin showed how deeply suscep tible he was to her charms and her presence.

Chapter II The Falling Of The Shadow

The morrow dawned in a glory of amethyst and gold, and all things around Moorvale seemed in the most perfect concord. The wind blew softly and was ladened with fragrance from the moorland, while many-voiced nature spoke in tuneful accents of the joy which the summer sun inspired. Mr Fleting was early astir, for he was fond of spending some time in his garden before the breakfast hour. His fruit, his flowers, his bees, his vegetables — all had a special interest for him, and he loved to watch the budding and upspringing of the things he had sown. ' Good morning, John ! A heavenly morning again,' he remarked as he came upon his old gardener who was fretfully and irascibly denouncing the green fly which was making havoc of the roses of which he was gathering the day's supply for the house. , 'It be, zur,' answered old John Grimond gruffly, as he proceeded to pour out a fresh string of invectives against garden pests generally, and the green fly in particular.

John was a heavily built, horny-handed, tanned-faced and grey-headed man, who from length of faithful service in his reverend master's employ was privileged to do and say things that would hardly have been tolerated in anyone else. John was a gardener and nothing more. As a gardener it would have been difficult to have matched him. He reeked of the soil and exhaled the odour of his calling. But sometimes old John ventured to give his opinion on politics and kindred subjects, but then he floundered, so to speak, for he was entirely out of his element when he left the garden. ' Hush, hush, John,' exclaimed Mr Fleting correctively, as old John was more than usually vehement in his denunciation of the many destructive influences against which a gardener has ever to be on the alert. ' Re member that God created all things.' 'Well, mester, so we're told, and I s'pose it be so, but for th' life of me I cannot understand what He wanted to make such things as slugs and snails, and green fly and the like for — drat 'em.' 'There are a good many things, John, that are beyond your understanding,' answered the master softly. ' Much, very much is hidden from us all, and wisely so no doubt; but we must have faith, for by faith we live, and by faith we are saved.' John scratched his head with his soil-stained hands; while his brown face, unmistakably expressed that there were doubts in his mind and that his faith was not whole.

For almost a generation of Sundays John had gone with his ' old 'ooman ' to the village church, and had heard Mr Fleting and his predecessor preach and pray. But there was reason to suppose that all this was a mere routine duty on John's part, and that owing to some defect in his powers of comprehension, or to the thick ness of his weather-beaten hide, he was incapable of receiving any deep or lasting impression. At any rate he had been known to express views that in anyone else would have been looked upon with horror, but which in old John were simply regarded as the result of an ignorance it was impossible to correct. For a long time the Misses Fleting had tried their powers upon him; but though he listened attentively and respectfully enough, he made it evident that he was one of those perverse beings who will not be convinced against their will.

And he had once inexpressibly shocked the young ladies by remarking after they had talked to him and preached at him for two long hours. ' Well, my ladies, I s'pose it be true that God Almighty made me as he made other folk. But if He made me a fool that ain't my fault, and if He's going to damn me 'cause I ain't perfect He ought to be ashamed of Hisself.' That blunt expression had well-nigh cost old John his situation, but Mr Fleting decided to retain him in the hope that he might still be reclaimed. Some years had passed since that memorable day and he had grown older and perhaps wiser. At any rate he had come to the knowledge that there are times when if speech is silvern silence is certainly golden. But on this particular morn ing something had obviously occurred to disturb his mental serenity, and he failed to observe the golden sil ence which on most occasions he strictly adhered to when the ' mester ' discoursed to him. ' Faith's a good thing sometimes, mester,' responded John, and showing that he was in an argumentative mood, as he stood with a large bunch of roses in one hand, his knife in the other, and pointing with his knife to a standard rose tree that was covered with blight, he continued, 'Look at that there tree, zur.

It wants a power o' faith to believe that the Almighty sent that blight for the good o' mankind. I don't claim to be no saint, zur, but if I wur I couldn't keep my temper when I sees things a-ruined in that way. No, no; I'm tempted to believe in what young Mester David said to me yesterday when he seed the old cat kill a blackbird on the lawn yonder. He says, "John, it's 'strawdinary how one thing preys on another in this world. Man is cruel, but the lower animals are still crueller, and when one thinks of the pain and the misery that one living thing inflicts on another living thing, it almost makes one think that God himself is cruel and delights in torture." ' In repeating this remark of David's, old John showed that he was certainly lacking in discretion. But if he was not discreet he was at least honest.

His bluntness and honesty, however, caused the Rev. Mr Fleting keen anguish, for this revelation coming immediately after the report which had been sent by the Rev. Charles Jarrold, showed that David must indeed have undergone some extraordinary change during his sojourn in London. His father was shocked, and betrayed it in his looks and his manner. ' John,' he answered solemnly and with an impressive upraising of his index finger, ' if my son really made such a remark as that to you he could scarcely have been responsible for what he was saying, but I cannot think that he did say it. God works in a mysterious way, and it is not for us, His weak and ignorant children, to question His methods. It is our duty to believe that what He does is done for the best. Doubting faith is not the kind of faith that is acceptable in God's sight.

And unless we have faith we are lost.' Old John was irritated by the doubt of his truthfulness which the reverend gentleman's words seemed to imply and he said quickly, 'Well, mester, I shouldn't tell you that if it wasn't true. Young Mester David said it, just as sure as I've got this yere pruning knife in my hand.' ' I believe you, I believe you,' murmured his master sadly, as he turned and walked slowly towards the house. That morning when the household gathered in the dining-room for the usual morning prayers previous to breakfast, Mr Fleting was unusually fervent and eloquent, and during the meal he was unusually silent and absorbed. When the breakfast was over he intimated to his son that he wished to see him in the library, and nothing suspecting what that portended, David joined his father a few minutes later. 'I think it right, David,' Mr Fleting began, 'that I should read to you a letter I have received from your tutor which I will do without comment for the present.

Now David, my beloved boy,' he went on when he had finished, 'I need scarcely tell you perhaps, that this communication has caused me and your mother very great pain. But I am disposed to think that Mr Charles Jarrold has been somewhat supersensitive to little lapses which were merely the result of youthful thoughtlessness. Indeed I find it most difficult to bring myself to believe that a son of mine could have done or said anything which would justify such strong remarks as those contained in that letter.' He looked at David with an eagerness which betrayed his impatience for the answer he anticipated would be forthcoming. But that answer was not quite what he expected. ' Mr Jarrold's opinion is his own, sir,' said David, ' and from Mr Jarrold's point of view Mr Jarrold is no doubt fully, and more than fully justified in what he has written.' ' But you don't mean to say,' exclaimed his father with a very decided tremor in his voice, ' but you don't mean to say that you have been guilty of the backsliding which Mr Jarrold more than hints at.' ' Permit me to take exception to the word backsliding,' David answered. ' I do not like the word, and I do not think it expresses the situation.

The facts are these, sir, being in the world I have felt I had a right to know something of the world from all points of view, and dur ing my stay in London I began to realise that there are two sides to every question and that other men's arguments are often better than our own.' ' Well, well,' said Mr Fleting nervously, ' that in itself is a good doctrine to which no one can take exception. But it seems to me that Jarrold's report is based upon something very different to that. I have known him many years and I know him to be a truthful and a tolerant man. And I am sure he would concede your point at once. But he says here — " David has not altogether met my expectations. I have detected in him a certain waywardness, and a tendency to question when he ought to listen." There is surely something more in that than appears on the surface.