No. XIV. THE PRIORY. "This sacred shade and solitude, what is it? YOUNG. "Ah! yet, ere I descend into the grave, COWLEY. I AM almost ashamed to proceed with my story of Mordaunt; for, except to give me commissions for what he wanted in London, he kept his word in not writing to me; and the indolence to which he adverted on my part grew to such a height by indulgence, that it was full five years before I mustered up exertion enough to visit St. Julian's. As to the subject of his flight from London, we both seemed to have forgotten it. At last a letter arrived, so full of kindness, and at the same time of reproach for not performing my promise, that it made my blood tingle, so that, consciencestruck, I travelled all night and all day till I got to Llangollen. Thence I proceeded with a guide to St. Julian's, where I arrived at not quite three hours and a half post meridiem. What makes me thus particular was the situation in which I found my friend. A fresh-coloured, active, middle-aged servant in a groom's fustian jacket took my horse to the stable, after showing me the way to the garden, where he said I should be certain of finding master, rain or sunshine. And here I did find him, carefully inspecting the gnomon of that antiquated dial, of which in his letter he made such honourable mention, and whose shadow denoted the exact time I have stated. As I had announced my visit, there was more pleasure than surprise at our meeting, a pleasure as mutual as it was great. The first salutes over, I scanned somewhat curiously the appearance of my hermit, in which, notwithstanding a plainness as to dress, and a sort of old-fashioned manner, the growth of his country life and estrangement from the higher circles to which he had been accustomed, I could see nothing on the score of health and content upon which I was not ready heartily to congratulate him. The "visage wan and purblind sight," welcomed by Blackstone, and accepted, though not welcomed, by Mordaunt, had totally left him; and in their stead a rubicund cheek and a brighter eye than ever I knew in him (the cheek a little embrowned) glowed and sparkled so as to leave no doubt, could I have entertained one, of the sincerity both of the satisfaction which, he said, my visit gave him, and of that which he had derived from his retreat. In short, his hale and healthy countenance, elastic tread, and a sort of airy cheerfulness, instead of the gravity of gait and manner I had known in him, all showed him a gainer from his change. His clothes, indeed, were of the plainest and most unexpensive kind; a Duffield coat; linen coarse, but of the whitest; stockings of thread, but well gartered; and shoes of an enormous thickness, but highly blacked; in short, all of the neatest, and not a speck but that occasioned by what he called the clean dirt of the garden. When I expressed my satisfaction, and rather a compliment upon this, "What!" he cried, " you expected to find such a distressed anchorite as in the book you lent me to read, distressed at having made a false step, and nothing to do. I trust you will soon know better. Look around, and see if I have been idle." I obeyed, and beheld most beautiful results of industry, certainly, in fruits, shrubs, and flowers, but by whom performed did not appear, and so I told him. "You are resolved, I see," said he, " to give me no credit as the man of nature I professed myself to be, when I took my leave of you sons of art. Otherwise, as you of course know that the first man was the first gardener, and acted up to his nature in being so, you might have so far thought me in earnest as to believe it possible that I have in some little degree imitated him. However, to dissipate incredulity, I must beg leave to tell you, that the health and rubicundity you have been admiring are owing to my having wielded with my own hands the spade which produced many at least (for I do not deny assistance) of those beds, whether of flowers or culinary herbs. As to the latter, I shall expect your highest praises when you see proofs of their excellence on the dinner table." A bell, very like and in fact a real old convent bell, had now been sounding some time, though not four o'clock. Mordaunt asked me if I could possibly dine at that hour. "It is the hour of nature," said he, "for those who rise at six and breakfast at seven, and I therefore have not altered it; but you are the master here, and I will obey." I assured him I had no wish but his in this and every other respect; and indeed, as I particularly desired to study him throughout this experiment on himself (for such I considered it still to be), I was even anxious to inspect it to the letter. "And you call this still an experiment," said he, although I have now persisted in it for five years, the exact period which made Sir William Temple feel so sure of himself when he turned his back on the humours of others in order to enjoy his own. However, I thank you for the license you give me, which I will promise you not to abuse, unless having the appetite of an ogre, the effect of three hours' labour this morning, may make you doubt me. "But come; it still wants a quarter of an hour to our repast, and whatever I may have boasted or written of my garden, you must not suppose that I wholly live in it. Let me introduce you, therefore, to the interior of the Priory of St. Julian. Though you will not be feasted by the lay prior as you would have been by the jolly priest, had he still presided there, the heartiness of the welcome must make up for the wants you will find in the banquet." At this we embraced again, and he conducted me through a labyrinth of herbs and flowers, breathing and blooming with health and sweetness, to what he called his indoor sun. den. It was a cheerful room, notwithstanding its oak panels, almost black with age, and made still darker by the physiognomies and vestments of some eight or ten of the old masters of the place. But a very white cloth, and two covers in bright silver, spread upon a small table, gave pleasant note of preparation. The room was lighted by but one, but an exceeding wide, window, casemated, but illumined by several panes of crosiers and mitres in superb painted glass, and opening with a full view of the river which watered the foot of the range of hills on which the castle of Lord W *** (mentioned in his letter) rose proudly, but melancholy, in the distance. The whole was gilded and burnished by the southern This was his refectory, as he said (for he was fond of using the ancient language of the place), but he also, from its beautiful view, made it his sitting and reception room. Upon my looking rather inquiringly at this last expression, he observed, "I see I shall have many mistakes to clear up. Why, I told you I was no anchorite; and though I have abandoned ambition, I have not quarrelled with society, as I trust this very room will ere long prove to you, especially when the ladies come to take their coffee in it; and admire and long for those tapestry curtains, which they are in vain endeavouring to rob me of." This rousing my curiosity still farther, I found he alluded to two very romantic noble ladies from the sister isle*, who had fled from their homes in early life to *Lady Elinor Butler and Miss Ponsonby. |