Andrew Marvel, etc

Front matter

ANDREW MARVEL AND HIS FRIENDS. Sa-rrhs bg the samt JVvttlior. i. THE DYING SAVIOUR AND THE GIPSY GIRL, And Other Stories. Eighteenth Thousand. Crown B--/0, cloth, is. 6d. II. THE DYING SAVIOUR AND THE GIPSY GIRL, And Three Other Stories. Seventeenth Thousand. Fcap. 8vo, is. "A literary gem not less admirable for the beauty of its diction, and the artistic finish of its details, than for its lucid exhibition of the gospel. The ' Old, Old Story ' was seldom told in sweeter words." — J*. *>. World. London : HODDER & STOUGHTON, 27, Paternoster Row. 'ANDREW AARVELl friends ?\ 5TOFLY OF j THE SIEGE OF/ HULL S^ BY I /A AWE HALL pKNEE •jIB.REE)** ■fBj» HUlifll •&^L?NDON VBIWNOT^

Preface

to the NINTH EDITION A/sRS. HALL'S "Andrew Marvel and his Friends" occupies, in one sense, a unique place in English literature. It is hitherto the only piece of historical fiction the chief scenes of which lie in the old town of Kingston-upon-Hull. Hull, indeed, with its stirring history and its wealth of ancient tradition, has been strangely overlooked by writers of historical novels. Surely a town wherein an unbroken line of princely merchants, stretching from the time of the De la Poles to that of Lister and Raikes and Thornton and Wilberforce, have lived and died and left abundant record of their daily doings, would afford scene and character for many a tale of life, love, and adventure in the past. The material is plentiful. With one exception, the genius which might have used it has heretofore looked in other directions.

The writer of "Andrew Marvel and his Friends" enjoyed undoubtedly the advantage of working a new quarry, and she seized not only upon the most stirring period in the history of Hull, but also upon the one name in the long roll of Hull worthies Preface. which has ever held the chief place in the hearts of the Hull people. In the brief preface which she prefixed to the fourth edition of her book she tells us that, from her childhood, everything connected with Marvel had a charm for her, and that she never tired of gazing at an old engraved portrait of the poet which hung in her home at Hull. She made many pilgrimages to the buildings and localities which could in any way be associated with Marvel and his times. This she tells us, but we wish she had told us more. Something more, however, we may learn from the book itself and from other sources.

Mrs. Hall was eminently fitted to write such a book as this. Her own early training fitted her to understand and appreciate and reverence the religious life of England in the seventeenth century. She must have been familiar from her childhood with traditions of the early times of English Inde pendency, and her own father was no unworthy representative of the men who struggled so bravely for religious liberty and for the right of private judgment in the days of Oliver Heywood and Edmund Calamy — days when hundreds of noble men laid down their preferment in the Church, and bravely faced poverty, imprisonment, and death rather than violate their conscience. Remembering the training to which I have referred, we are prepared to appreciate her graphic pictures of the Preface. preaching of Philip Nye, and her thirty-eighth chapter, "The Rival Preachers of Hull," wherein John Shawe and John Canne are depicted with life-like fidelity.

Her sympathy with Canne, the Independent, in no degree blinded her to the worth of his Presbyterian rival, Shawe, and even still less to that of Shawe's devoted wife, Dorothy, of whom we learn much from the memorial left of her by her husband, as well as from his own autobiography. Mrs. Hall has told her story well. From no book hitherto written, nor from the most patient perusal of the ponderous folios of Rushworth, Whitlocke, and Clarendon, and the calendars of State Papers, could the reader gather a more vivid or accurate conception of the events which characterised the two sieges of Hull than he will derive from this volume. Not less striking and faithful are her pictures of the English Court as it existed both during the Protectorate and the reign of Charles the Second. Indeed, throughout the book there are abundant evidences that she spared no pains in the collection of material, and, having gathered it, that she used it skilfully and judiciously.

Her historical errors, which are few and trifling, are those of the writers whom she consulted, and in no degree detract from the value of her own labours, or from the charm of the story in which those labours resulted. "But what shall be said of her gift of Andrew Preface. Marvel ? She has attracted attention to him, and won admiration for his lofty patriotism in a way that has never been done before. He stands out idealized — the charming poet, the loyal friend, the champion of popular rights and national liberty, the hater of all wrong, for whose conscience the world had no market, stainless in the midst of terribly corrupt times, flinging the base coin of bribery back in the face of royalty itself, dying the martyr's death unobserved — Andrew Marvel the poet, the man, the Christian ! His fellow-citizens have honoured them selves in giving him a statue ; she has honoured herself in giving him afresh to the world." * This is not the place in which to pass judgment on the purely literary merits of Mrs. Hall's book.

Few readers, however, will fail to discover that it contains many passages of great beauty, of high imaginative power, of delicate humour. It is much to say of a book, in these days, that it does not contain one carelessly-framed sentence, but this may be honestly said of "Andrew Marvel and his Friends." If I am asked to point to a passage of especial beauty, I refer the reader to the description of the visit of Colonel Lister and his party, which included the heroine of the book, to the city of Lincoln (pages 139-142). As an example of the * "The Crown of Truthful Words," by H. Elvet Lewis. Other quotations, in the appended biography, are gratefully taken from the same source. Preface. writer's sense of humour, Nell Gwynne's reply to the King (page 440) may be cited. The book is marked, especially in the character and conversation of Alice Lister, by a deep and sincere religious tone.

This element in the story will affect various readers in various ways. The feeling of those who shrink from making spiritual emotion matter of conversation, even between those who stand to each other in the closest of human relationships, is worthy of all reverence. But it must be remembered that this is not a story of the nineteenth century, but of the seventeenth, and had the writer been altogether influenced in her refer ences to religious feelings by considerations of a refined reticence which is certainly of recent growth, she must necessarily have sacrificed one element which contributes largely to the complete fidelity of her narrative. Marie Hall, the author of " Andrew Marvel and his Friends," was the daughter of the Rev. James Sibree, who, for more than fifty years, was minister of the Congregational Church in Cogan Street, Hull, and who, in 1882, published an interesting volume of personal reminiscences under the title of " Fifty Years' Recollections of Hull."

Her paternal ancestors are said to have been Spanish refugees who came to England in the seventeenth century. She was born in Lister Street, Hull, on the 3rd February, 1839. *^ne was educated first at a private Preface. school in her native town — the town which, as the reader of " Andrew Marvel" cannot fail to discover, she loved for its associations— and afterwards at Leicester. " In her young days, at home with her father, she took a great and patient delight in teaching a class of sailor boys, many of whom owed their .... future usefulness to her kindly instruction and personal influence." In December, 1869, she was married to the Rev. Walter G. Hall, a Wesleyan minister. Her married life was spent at Penzance, Leeds, Shipley, Wolver hampton, and Bradford. Her great object, at all times, was to be useful to the people amongst whom her lot was cast.

In Bradford, the last circuit to which her husband was appointed during her life, " notwithstanding failing health, she had the partial care of a large adult class of women, who were greatly devoted to her as a gentle teacher and kind hearted friend." The writer I am quoting adds, " She had a sincere love for the poor, and according to her ability brought much sunshine to dreary homes and tired lives." She died at Bradford on the 28th April, 1885. " She was a thoughful artist, with an eye to see, and a heart to feel, and a soul to hold fellowship with the beautiful. She was an enthusiastic artist, not only in music, painting, and literature, but she was also an artist in the daily round of household duties and common-place tasks. Her zeal for neatness and cleanliness and good order Preface. made it impossible for her to do the least thing carelessly and poorly.

All work to her was sacred, and every trivial task bore the stamp of the truth fulness of her artistic feeling." Her friends have always recognised in the Alice Lister of her " Andrew Marvel " a striking portrait, though drawn unconsciously, of herself. It could hardly be otherwise. She drew, in sweet " Mistress Alice," the picture of her ideal of true womanhood, and to that ideal it was the one great aim of her life to attain. The following is a list of her published works : — " The Transmitted Blessing." (A tract.) "The Swedish Singer." " The Sculptor of Bruges." " Sermons from my Studio." (A collection of short stories.) "Andrew Marvel and his Friends." (Appeared first in the Christian World Magazine, from June, 1873, to September, 1874.) " Noble, but not the Noblest." (Appeared in the Evangelical Magazine during 1874.)

Shortly before her death she had planned another book. It was to have been an historical romance, dealing with the trials and fortunes of the Sibrees when they were driven from Spain and took refuge in England. J. R. Boyle. CONTENTS. CHArTKst PAGE I. The Listers ... I II. Alice's Diary . -.,... 18 III. Bayard Castle 3o IV. Alice's Diary— The Old Story . . . .37 V. A Letter and a Song . . , , .46 VI. Alice's Diary— News from York , . .52 VII. Sir Harry Vane 5g VIII. Alice's Diary— Mr. Pym proposes to "Sweep the House " . . . , 74 IX. Across the Snow to Winestead . . . .81 X. Katherine Hildyard . . , . .88 XL Evergreens and Mistletoe . , . .102 XII. Alice's Diary „4 XIII. " Memor et Fidelis " . . . . .126 XIV. Alice's Diary— Lincoln Minster and St. Paul's . . 137 XV. A Long Farewell . . . , .150 XVI.

Alice's Diary— A Spy in the Town . . .156 XVII. Will Lister takes Home a Bride . . .162 XVIII. The King Knocks in vain at the Gates of Hull . 164 XIX. Alice's Diary I?4 XX. Bad News from Afar . , , , . '77 Contents. CHAPTER rAGE XXI. The Second CaU to Surrender . . . 1S5 XXII. The First Siege of Hull . . . . 195 XXIII. An Escape and a Triumph . . . .207 XXIV. A Lister to the Rescue 1 . . . .217 XXV. After the Fight . . . . .227 XXVI. Asking Too Much . . 233 XXVII. Watchers by the Dead . . . .240 XXVIII. Absent, yet Tender and True . . . 246 XXIX. All for Love . . . . .259 XXX. The Success and Failure of Lady Bland . . 275 XXXI. The Arrest . . . . . .282 XXXII. The Royalists send another Messenger . . 2S9 XXXIII. Alice Meets an Old Friend . . . .297 XXXIV. The Second Siege of Hull . . . .306 XXXV.

The Fortunes of War . . . .315 XXXVI. Alice Nurses a Hero . . . .327 XXXVII. Marvel's Wanderings and Return . . . 338 XXXVIII. The Rival Preachers of Hull . . .346 XXXIX. Alice's Diary, wherein she Records many Events . 359 XL. A Morning at Whitehall .... 373 XLI. The Shadows of Coming Ills . . . 30^ XL! I. A Letter from the Court to the Country . . 398 XLIII. Alice's Diary — Love and Marriage at the Court of CharlesI1 406 XLIV. An Evening at Whitehall . , .2 . XLV. A Royal Sunday .... XLVI. Alice's Diary ... 4.5 XLVII. The Death of Andrew Marvel . . .;S STATUE OF ANDREW MARVEL AT HULL [Page i. DE LA I'OLE HOUSE.

Chapter I. The Listers

" Humber loud that keeps the Scythian's name." — MILTON, In the old town of Hull there is a long, narrow lane, with lofty warehouses on either side, called High Street — a busy, but not a pleasant place, for it is crooked, unpaved, and dark ; it follows the winding course of the river Hull that flows behind the houses on one side of the way, and the narrowness of the street shuts out a good deal of the sunlight. But two hundred and thirty years ago this dingy spot wore a very different aspect ; not that it was straighter or cleaner than now, but instead of plain, modern build ings, the street was lined with handsome dwelling houses, where gentlefolks and rich merchants lived, and where they were content to spend all their days. Here and there may still be seen vestiges of the past in an antique doorway, a richly-carved staircase or ceiling, and in the old Inn and a few private houses that still remain entire.

In High Street, and the lanes and alleys leading to it, the chief interest of the old town centres. Here those haughty merchant princes, the De La Poles, accumulated their vast wealth, built their palace, and lived in almost royal state and splendour ; here kings and queens were entertained ; and here lived those sturdy men that dared to face the frowns and threats of one monarch, and to remind him of broken promises and violated laws. Here might have been seen the black friars from the monastery close by, and the grey habits of the Carmelite monks from the monastery in Aldgate — many of them doubtless good and devout men — to be followed by an order of divines whose piety and goodness are beyond question, and whose holy influence is felt to the present hour. Here a poet and patriot spent his boyhood, and here still stands the birthplace and home of William Wilberforce.

Our story has to do with the men and women of bygone days, whose names may be found in old town records, or in the pages of history ; and, if these worthy people had fewer comforts, they had fewer wants than their suc cessors of this century ; and we conclude that they were not less happy and intelligent than those who have come after them. In an apartment of one of the mansions in High Street a maiden sat with her lute. To judge by the cloud on her brow she was feeling lonely and discon solate ; and as she now and then touched the strings with an idle hand, they gave forth anything but a cheering strain. At length the irregular notes were changed for a plaintive air, which she softly accom panied with her voice : — " Blame not my lute ! for it must sound Of this or that, as liketh me ; For lack of wit the lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me.

" " Heigh mony ! but that is a doleful ditty, cousin Alice," exclaimed Will Lister, who did not wait to hear the singer's complaint. Alice looked up at the handsome, but ungainly youth, who had stolen in upon her unobserved, and laid down her lute with a sigh. 77/i? Listers. 3 " How can I sing gay songs when I have such a heavy heart ? Janet scolds me for being so melan choly, but I think she has as many fears as myself lest some misfortune has befallen my father." " Oh ! there are a hundred reasons why he may be delayed," replied Will ; " I wish I had as good hopes of seeing my father ride up the street to-morrow, as I have of seeing yours return safe and sound." " My uncle is not worse, is he, Will ? " asked Alice, quickly. " I would fain believe not ; but I cannot see that he gets any better.

This morning he inquired if the Colonel had come back, so I promised to look in and ask if you had heard any news." " No ; I wish we had. I listen all day long and wander up and down the house, that has no comfort in it now my father is away." " Have you brought any tidings, Master William ? " asked the old housekeeper, coming in. " Not I, Janet ; I came to hear, not to tell," an swered Will. " Eh, well," said Janet ; " it is quite time the master was back, or Mistress Alice will mope herself to death. I wish you could persuade her to take an airing ; 'tis two days since she crossed the doorstep." " Come back with me, Alice," said Will. " It will please my mother to see you, and watching and listen ing for my uncle will not bring him back the sooner. Dorothy Crowle says you are very chary of giving her your company, and my mother says the same."

It was a walm, balmy day, although early in March, and the garden in front of Sir John Lister's house was gay with spring flowers. Alice stopped to gather a few. " Mother has hardly looked at her flowers this year," remarked the youth, watching his cousin. She put some of the primroses in the bosom of her dress, and then gravely offered him two or three. I -2 ■' No, thank you," said Will, rather sheepishly ; " I don't mean to be a carpet knight — I hate to see men wearing flowers and ribbons and embroidered gew gaws." The maiden smiled. " You will perchance change that notion some day, and not think it unmanly to wear a broidered scarf, or even a pretty flower like this." But Will looked disdainful at the idea of being ever guilty of such weakness. Alice passed on and entered the house, where, the year before, Sir John Lister had sumptuously entertained his sovereign, Charles I. The Knight had just been chosen to represent his native town in Parliament ; but before taking his seat he had been seized with a sudden sickness that threatened soon to end his days.

Dame Lister seemed over whelmed with grief, and her eyes were heavy with weeping. " Oh, child ? " she exclaimed, as her niece entered, " he is worse to-day. I dare not ask the apothecary what he thinks. I do wish your father would come — John asks for him so often ; and just now he said that they must find another Member, for he should never take his place in the House." " Nay, mother," said Will, gently, " that is but a sick man's fancy ; all will be well when my uncle comes. You will be sick yourself if you grieve so sorely, and then who will nurse my father ? " " I wish, indeed, that I could persuade myself there was no cause for fear ; but you are young and hopeful, Will, and cannot see the danger ; " and the dame began to weep afresh. Poor Alice was sad enough herself, but she did her best to cheer her aunt, thinking, like her cousin, that there was no reason to de spair.

" Your uncle was asleep when I came down," said the dame, when Alice took her leave. " He must not see me in tears ; I will not trouble him with my distress. And, Alice, ask your father to come here as TJie Listers. 5 soon as he returns. I pray heaven he may not be too late ! " The shadow of the sundial on the tower of Sir John's house lay upon the fourth hour after noon when Alice bade Will good-bye at the garden gate. As she turned towards home her heart felt heavier than before, and, dreading to go back to the lonely rooms, she lingered in her walk up High Street to gaze into the few little windows that displayed anything for sale, and to steal a glance into Rembrandt's studio. This famous painter often stayed in Hull for several months on his way to and from his own country, and some times Alice had gone with her father to his lodgings to purchase paintings, or to watch the artist at his work.

Standing in the shadow, Alice had a good view of the studio, which formed as pretty an " interior" as any sketched by Rembrandt's own masterly hand. A wood fire burned on the wide hearth, showing the quaint furniture and carved fireplace, lighting up with ruddy, fitful gleams the lovely face of a cherub, and revealing the picturesque dress and massive head and shoulders of the artist himself. His easel was drawn near the window, for the daylight was fading fast, and Alice could see that Rembrandt was painting the figure of a very stout damsel, scouring her brazen pans. Certainly the whole scene looked very natural and homely, but to Alice's thinking a scullery -maid was rather a mean subject for so great a man. She went on to Israel Lyon's tiny casement, and was admiring his watches, as she had done many a time already, when some one touched her shoulder and pronounced her name.

Alice started, and then smiled when she saw Mr. Marvel, and the pleasant eyes that looked down upon her smiled too. " Any letter from your father, Alice ? " asked the minister as he shook her hand. The maiden's lips trembled, and she had some difficulty in keeping back the tears as she replied, "No, Mr. Marvel, nor any tidings whatever. Oh! I wish he would come ! I fear some accident has be fallen him." " You must not imagine evil, dear Alice ; he is in the Lord's keeping — can't you trust him there ? He may come to-morrow." ■ Alice felt grateful for these reassuring words. She had said them again and again to herself, but coming from the good minister's lips they gave solid comfort. " How is your baby ? " she asked. " Growing stronger, I hope, my dear. This is Mistress Skinner, of whom you have heard," said Mr. Marvel, turning to a lady beside him ; " she came over the water this morning to be present at my little daughter's baptism.

She leaves us to-morrow, so that Maria has no chance yet of learning to love her young godmother." " But I hope to fulfil my duty towards the child some day," replied the young lady. " Nay, I but jested," said Mr. Marvel. " I am glad the weather is so fine for crossing the river; the summer seems coming already. The Beverley woods are quite green and the birds are building a nest in my old pear-tree. Have you seen Sir John to-day, Alice ? " " I have been to the house, but he was sleeping, so I did not venture into his chamber." " I was with him this morning. He was suffering much in body ; but I think this sickness has been sent in love and mercy, whatever be the issue. Sir John's life is of great value, but the Lord can do His work in the State and in the Church without any of us, if it so please Him.

But come, Mistress Skinner, we must not linger — not even to gossip with gentle Alice Lister. Farewell, my dear, keep up a brave heart." Alice watched her friend and his companion until they were out of sight, and then walked quickly towards home. As she pushed open the heavy door leading into the hall, she saw what brought the colour to her cheeks. In the courtyard beyond two horses were being led away to the stable, and Simon — an old servant that always accompanied the Colonel on his journeys — was unstrapping the saddle-bags from the strong beast he had ridden himself, and talking to a strange serving-man who was preparing to dis mount. Before she could cross the hall, Janet came out of the dining-room, saying, " The master is come, Mistress Alice, and has brought company with him ! To think you should be away after waiting so long !

" But Alice did not wait to listen or to reply. She heard her father's voice in the library, and thither her feet speedily carried her ; in another moment she was folded in his arms, sobbing with delight and surprise. The Colonel's eyes were moist as he tenderly stroked his daughter's head ; but they were not alone, and the soldier soon covered his emotion, saying, lightly, " How now, my Alice ! look up. Here is Master Ralph Hildyard waiting to be presented." The maiden, who had seen no one but her father, lifted her head from his breast and dashed the water from her eyes, blushing deeply as she encountered the gaze of a gallant young cavalier, with long, black hair and very dark eyes, who stepped forward and kissed her hand. The courtly style of his salutation and the remembrance of her own childish outburst, painfully confused Alice, who ventured no second glance at her father's guest ; while Ralph, fresh from the society of Whitehall, thought that he had seen nothing prettier than this artless display of affection.

The Colonel stooped once more to kiss her forehead, untying the hood that had fallen back, and saying, " I think thou art grown, sweetheart. I am mightily glad to be back again. Did'st think me very long, Alice ? " " Long ! Yes, indeed, father," replied the maiden, still clinging shyly to his arm ; " the days seemed weeks. Methinks I have done little else of late but watch from the housetop for your approach." " And missed my coming after all. The time might well hang heavily on your hands, little one, if that is how you spent it. My daughter sets a high price on her old father, Ralph." " He is not so old, Mistress Alice, but he must over ride his good horse to-day, that he might the sooner embrace a certain fair lady," replied Ralph ; " it would be useless to ask what price he sets upon her!' "Ah ! young gentleman," said the Colonel, "this is my one ewe lamb, and I am jealous over it.

My heart misgave me, Alice, when you did not appear to wel come me." Here Simon entered with the baggage, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure when he saw his young mistress, who kindly inquired how the journey had prospered. " Faith, mistress, our old town is the best place in the whole country," said the man, energetically. "What, better than the great city, Simon? Some folks would hardly believe that," replied Alice. "London is a fine, big place, but it isn't home, Mistress Alice." " Perhaps you are not so fond of travelling as you were once, Simon, when you followed my father to fight in foreign lands," said the maiden. She did not dare to say that he was getting old, for Simon was sensitive on that point. " I found it all right then, mistress, for a change ; but I saw enough of outlandish places to serve me for the rest of my life ; and the roads get worse every year, I think.

They well-nigh put all my bones out of joint." The Colonel had been diving into his bags mean while, and Ralph had been looking round him with a curious eye. The room they were in, called by courtesy the library, displayed more signs of the battle and the chase than of scholastic pursuits. There were some heavy oak bookcases, well filled with ex pensive volumes, but the contents of only half-a dozen shelves showed signs of much usage, and these included works of poetry and fiction, with the more substantial productions of popular divines. The apartment and its furniture were handsome, and had a homelike and friendly air, but the room was scattered from one end to the other with a miscellaneous variety of things, evidently the master's own belong ings ; whips, spurs, gloves, pistols, riding gear, &c, lay upon the tables and settees, or were tumbled in a heap in the corners.

Alice noticed the direction of the stranger's eye and felt slightly ashamed of the disorder ; for the truth was, that she had forbidden the servants to remove anything after her father's de parture, much to Janet's discontent. The family honour was very dear to the old woman, and at this moment she was fretted to think that so fine a guest should have been first introduced into the only un tidy room in the house. The Colonel thought more of comfort than display ; the library was his favourite room, and Alice thought it the most delightful place possible, for her happiest hours since childhood had been spent there — in winter by its wide hearth, and in summer in its cosy window-nooks. " Here, Alice," said her father, " I have not for gotten your wish," and he drew forth from his capa cious bag something carefully wrapped up.