Part 11 (1/2)

”But, Purcel, my dear friend, what am I and my domestic establishment to do? Good G.o.d! there is nothing but ruin before us! You know I always lived up to my income--indeed, at best, it was too limited for the demands of my family, and our habits of life. And now, to have the very prop--the only one on which I leant--suddenly snapt from under me--it is frightful. But you are to blame, Purcel; you are much to blame. Why did you not apprise me of this ruinous state of things before it came thus on me unawares? It was unfeeling and heartless in you not to have prepared me for it.”

The proctor actually imagined, and not without reason, that the worthy doctor was beginning to get beside himself, as it is termed, on hearing such a charge as this brought against him; and he was about to express his astonishment at it, when Mr. Temple, his curate, who resided in the parsonage, made his appearance, and joined them at Dr. Turbot's request.

”Temple,” said he, as the latter portion of his body began to pursue the other through the room, ”are you aware of the frightful condition to which the country has come?”

”Who can be ignorant of it?” replied Temple; ”how can any man live in the country, and not know it?”

”Yes, sir,” replied Turbot, tartly, ”I have lived in the country, and, until a few minutes ago, I was ignorant of the extent to which it has come.”

”Well, sir,” said Temple, ”that is odd enough; for, to my own knowledge, your information has been both regular and authentic upon this subject at all events. Our friend Purcel, here, has not left you in ignorance of it.”

”Yes,” said Turbot, ”but he had the country as bad three years ago as it is now. Was this fair? Why, I took it for granted that all his alarms and terrors were the mere play and subterfuge of the proctor upon the parson, and, consequently, thought little of it; but here I am stranded at once, wrecked, and left on my bottom. How will I meet my tradesmen?

how will I continue my establishment? and, what is worse, how can I break it up? You know, Temple, I cannot, unfortunately, live without luxuries. They are essential to my health, and if suddenly deprived of them, as I am likely to be, I cannot answer to society for the consequences.”

”Sir,” said Temple, ”it is quite obvious that a period of severe trial and chastening is at hand, or I should rather say, has already arrived.

Many of our calling, I am grieved I to know, are even now severely suffering, and suffering, I must add, with unexampled patience and fort.i.tude under great and trying privations. Yet I trust that the health of the general body will be improved by it, and purged of the grossness and worldly feeling which have hitherto, I fear, too much characterized it. Many, I know, may think we are merely in the hands of man, but for my part, I think, and earnestly hope, that we are in those of G.o.d himself, and that He chasteneth no only because He loveth.”

”This is most distressing to hear, my dear Temple,” replied his rector; ”but I trust I am as willing and as well prepared, from religious feeling, to suffer as another--that is, provided always I am not deprived of those comforts and little luxuries to which I have all my life been accustomed.”

”I am very much afraid,” observed Purcel, ”that the clergy of the established church will have a very fine opportunity to show the world how well and patiently they can suffer.”

”I have already said, Purcel,” said the doctor, ”that I am as willing to suffer as another. I know I am naturally of a patient and rather an humble disposition; let these trials come then, and I am prepared for them, provided only that I am not deprived of my little luxuries, for these are essential to my health itself, otherwise I could bear even this loss. I intended, Temple, to have had a day or two's shooting on the glebe lands, but Purcel, here, tells me that I am very unpopular, and would not, he says, recommend me to expose myself much, or if possible at all, in the neighborhood.

”And upon my word and credit I spoke nothing,” replied the other, ”but what I know to be truth. There is not a feather of game on the glebe lands that would be shot down with half the pleasure that the parson himself would. I beg, then, Dr. Turbot, that you won't think of it. I'll get my sons to go over the property, and if there's any game on it we shall have it sent to you.”

”How does it stand for game, Temple, do you know?”

”I really cannot say,” replied the good man. ”The killing of game is a pursuit I have never relished, and with which I am utterly unacquainted.

I fear, however, that the princ.i.p.al game in the country will soon be the parson and the proctor.”

”It's a delightful pursuit,” replied the Rev. Doctor, who did not at all relish the last piece of information, and only replied to the first, ”and equally conducive to health and morals. What, for instance, can be more delicious than a plump partridge or grouse, stewed in cinnamon and claret? and yet, to think that a man must be deprived of--well,” said he, interrupting himself, ”it is a heavy, and awful dispensation--and one that I ought to have been made acquainted with--that is, to its full and fearful extent--before it came on me thus unawares. Purcel here scarcely did his duty by me in this.”

”I fear, sir,” replied Temple, ”that it was not Purcel who neglected his duty, but you who have been incredulous. I think he has certainly not omitted to sound the alarm sufficiently loud during the approach of this great ordeal to which we are exposed.”

”And in addition to everything else, I am in arrears to you, Temple,” he added; ”and now I have no means of paying you.”

Temple was silent, for at that moment the necessities of his family pressed with peculiar severity upon himself--and he was not exactly prepared for such an intimation. The portion of salary then coming to him was, in truth, his sole dependence at that peculiar crisis, and this failing him, he knew not on what hand or in what direction to turn.

After musing for some time, he at length replied, ”If you have it not, Dr. Turbot, or cannot procure it, of course it is idle for me to expect it--although I will not deny, that in the present circ.u.mstances of my family, it would have come to us with very peculiar and seasonable relief.”

”But I have not a pound,” replied the doctor; ”so far from that, I am pretty deeply in debt--for I need hardly say, that for years I have been balancing my affairs--paying off debts to-day, and contracting other to-morrow--always dipped, but and rather deeply, too, as I said.”

He again got to his legs, when the pursuit of the latter part of his person after the rest once more took place, and in this odd way he traversed the room in a state of extreme tribulation.

”What is to be done?” he asked--”surely the government cannot abandon us?--cannot allow us to perish utterly, which we must do, if left to the mercy of our enemies? No, certainly it cannot desert us in such a strait as this, unless it wishes to surrender the established church to the dark plots and designing ambition of popery. No, no--it cannot--it must not--it dares not. Some vigorous measure for our relief must be taken, and that speedily;--let us not be too much dejected, then--our sufferings will be short--and as for myself, I am willing to make any reasonable sacrifice, provided I am not called upon--at these years--fifty-eight--to give up my usual little luxuries. Purcel, I want you to take a turn in the garden. Temple, excuse me--will you?--and say to Mrs. Temple to make no preparations, as I don't intend to stop--I shall return to Dublin in an hour at farthest; and don't be cast down, Temple; matters will soon brighten.”

”It is not at all necessary, sir,” replied Temple, ”that you should adjorn to the garden to speak with Mr. Purcel. I was on my way to the library when I met you, and I am going there now.”

”It is not so much,” he replied, ”that I have anything very particular to say to Purcel, as that I feel a walk in the fresh air will relieve me. Good-bye, then, for a little; I shall see you before I go.”