the reminiscences of mistress cherry.—the fire, & double tide.—mal-conversation.
wonder whether many people, on reviewing their past lives, feel as i do on looking back on mine; that, had they had the ordering the outward circumstances connected 2with them beforehand, such as time, place, health, sickness, friends, acquaintances, and such-like conditions, they could not have arranged them half so well as they have been disposed for them. when i fall into a muse on the past, the moments fly so swiftly that i am lost in amazement when i find how the time has slipped by while thus pleasantly employed. and yet many of the arrangements which were made for me by a greater wisdom than mine, were such as at the time were far from agreeable to me; nay, were sometimes so repugnant to flesh and blood as to nourish rebellious thoughts, and call forth showers of tears. and still the process went on; as i now see, all for my good.
my father married my mother in the spring of the year 1632: being then in the prime of life, a personable, charming-looking 3man, though small of stature, and with a nose somewhat awry. in his conditions he was ever most lovely; of a sweet temper, shrewd observance, stout heart, and lively wit. many, no doubt, had read more, by reason of their opportunities; but what few books he knew, he turned to profit, and perhaps no man concocted his reading into judgment better than he; by which he became so judicious and oracular, as that though he could not indeed prophesy, he could presage; and some of his presages came true and others not, but might have done so, had events taken but in a very slight degree a different course. he knew how to sound his customers, and suck the marrow of their knowledge, while keeping his own counsel: but this was his prudence, not pusillanimity, for i have heard it remarked by one who knew 4him well, that the trojan horse was not more full of valour than he, for so small a man. being a hair-dresser, this was not so evident in him as if he had been a soldier; but yet every man’s life affords occasions, as my father’s certainly did, of showing what is in him and what is not.
in dress, his taste was excessive neat, and yet gaudy; so that on sundays, when he appeared in what he called his marigold-and-poppy, with his hair, which men then wore very long, combed down in large smooth curls, his laced collar nicely ironed, his beaver well brushed, and his shoes shining like coals ... it would have been difficult to find a grain of fault with him, save that, as my cousin mark was wont to say, the colours of his suit did too much swear at one another. for my own part, i always had an impression 5that he was an excessive well-looking man, not out of any prejudice, but downright prepossession; and yet my dear mother, who i am sure loved him truly, always said to me when i alluded to the subject, “my dear, the qualities of his person were always far exceeded by those of his mind.”
of my cousin mark, who was my father’s apprentice, there could not be two opinions. he was winsome, lightsome, debonair; of most comely person and aspect: we were all very proud of him, and he of himself. if he had a fault, it was thinking too much of himself and too little of others; but this is so common that i do not know i am justified in particularizing it. also he was somewhat of a coward, not in respect of personal, animal courage, of which i suppose he had as much as the aforesaid trojan 6horse, whatever that might be; but morally cowardly, as to what would be thought of him by others, and dreading the evil of the present moment, and so forth; which men don’t think so bad a kind of cowardice as the other, but i do.
but his temper was most sweet: his manners most engaging. oh! how much he came to be thought of, at length, all along the bridge! i have no other fault to find in him besides those already reckoned; unless it were a general want of principle, which was less apparent than it would have been, had it not been covered rather than supplied by good feeling. but ’tis ill reckoning the faults of one’s friends.
of my mother, how shall i say enough? she was tall, slender, and comely to look upon, with sweet and quick grey eyes. she was naturally of a high spirit, which 7had been brought under a curb by divine grace. she was kind and obliging to all, stirring and thrifty, yet not niggardly; soft-hearted to the poor, of wonderful propriety without the least priggishness, loved by her friends, and especially in her own family. now i have counted up the whole house except our lodger, master blower, and dolly, the cook.
my father’s shop was on the east side of london bridge
my father’s shop was on the east side of london bridge. over his door hung his sign of “the lock of hair;” and over the shop-front was painted in yellow letters the following inscription,—
“peter curling sells all sorts of hair, curled or uncurled, roses, braids, cauls, ribbons, weaving, sewing-silk, cards, and blocks. together with combs, crisping-pins, perfumery, and all other goods made use of by tonsors and hairdressers, at the lowest prices.”
on the opposite side of the way, was 8a vintner’s, by the name of abel, who had humorously set up a bell for his sign, and painted beneath it, “quoth the wag, i am abel.”
next door to us on one side, lived a bookseller and stationer named benskin, whose sign was the bible and star; and next door to us on the other side was a glover named hugh braidfoot, a jolly, good-tempered bachelor, black-haired, fresh-coloured, and six feet high, whose sign was the roebuck.
a few weeks after my birth, which was in february, 1633, in the midst of a notable hard frost, there broke out a most dreadful fire at the north end of the bridge, which consumed all the houses on both sides, from st. magnus’ church to the first open space on the bridge. there was, i have heard tell, much bodily hurt as well as destruction 9of property; many persons in precipitating themselves from upper stories, getting their limbs broken. “water! water!” was the cry, and all in vain, for though the thames lay right under the houses, ’twas one great cake of ice, and the only resource was to break the conduit pipes that ran through the streets leading to the bridge, and sweep the water down with brooms, to supply the three engines that every one had thought would be such helps in time of need, but which proved very sorry helps indeed. in the midst of the tumult and danger, some neighbours of ours that were burned out of house and home, took refuge with us; to wit, the wife and infant daughter of master samuel armytage, haberdasher of small wares; the infant being, like myself, a nursling of only a few weeks old. these homeless strangers did my mother 10hospitably and christianly entertain, bestirring herself more in her care for them than in her tender case it was fit she should have done, and putting us two infants into one and the same cradle. with our little arms locked about one another, in an atmosphere of christian love, ’twas no wonder that little violet and i conceived a tenderness for each other, e’en while sucklings, that grew with our growth, and strengthened with our strength. as for the elder parties, hospitality on the one side and thankfulness on the other caused a more than common friendliness to spring up between them from that time forth. and when the fugitives were re-established in their re-built houses, they long had an impressive and solemnifying remembrance of their narrow escape from an awful and terrible death.
11now, though i cannot, of course, remember anything of the fire, i have a perfect recollection of the next notable occurrence among us, of the double tide, which happened in my eighth year; and how the river, after lying as still as a stone for more than an hour, suddenly came foaming up from greenwich, roaring, boiling, and splashing to that degree that it was horror to look upon. and my father, after contemplating the prodigy along with all the rest, exclaimed, “well, friends! you may say what you will; but i, though not a superstitious man, think something will come of it.” and did not something come of it ... or, at any rate, after it? and were not we, that had previously been sleeping on the still waters of a settled government, horribly overwhelmed with a tide of rebellion, anarchy, and republicanism?
12the year before the double tide, there had been much talk in my father’s shop, about the earl of strafford being given over to the black rod, which i, being of such tender years, could not well make out, but it seemed to carry an ill sound with it. after that, he was taken to his trial; and passed from his prison in the tower to westminster, under our bridge. we looked forth of our windows, and discerned him plainly in one of the barges, guarded by soldiers with partizans; and there was much yelling and hooting as he went through the arch, which i for my part was sorry for, he was so handsome and personable a gentleman. the people, however, were much incensed against him; and, about three months after the double tide, there was what i may call a double tide of ’prentices and tumultuous citizens, to 13the number of about six thousand, (my cousin, mark blenkinsop, being among them,) who assembled themselves in an intimidating manner at westminster, many of them armed with swords and staves, and demanded lord strafford’s death of the peers as they went to the house.
i remember my father, for as small a man as he was, collaring mark when he came back, and dealing him one or two blows, which made me begin to cry, and run in between them. and mark, though a great, tall lad of his years, began to whimper too, which reminds me again of the trojan horse, and the valour that may dwell in a little body, and the pusillanimity that may be in a large one. and, “sure, uncle,” says mark, “the earl deserves to die, for his” ... mal-conversation, or malministration, i forget which. and my father replied, “never 14trouble your head with that. leave the powers that be to settle their own affairs. fine times, indeed, when barbers’ ’prentices must be meddling in state-politics! to his own master, the earl standeth or falleth.”
had all men been of my father’s equable and temperate mind, we should not have fallen into the disorders we presently did; wherein, no doubt, there was much wrong on both sides. one night we were roused from sleep by cries in the street that “the king and his papists were coming to fire the city and cut our throats in our beds;” but my father, after putting his head forth to learn the nature of the tumult, drew it in again and closed the window, allaying our somewhat ungoverned fears with that composure which it behoves every master of a family to assume when he can, in 15seasons of danger or the apprehension of it.
soon there was open war between king and parliament, which went on increasing till the whole country was filled with bloodshed and confusion, and only ended in a total change of government. we were now in a state of fortification; for the lords and commons had directed that the whole city should be put in a state of defence, and that the lord mayor and citizens should trench, stop, and fortify all highways leading thereunto. wherefore, all entrances into london except five, were stoned and bricked up altogether; and those five were made as strong as could be, with breast-works and turn-pikes, musket-proof. and all sheds and out-buildings outside london wall, that were near enough to be advantageous to an enemy, were taken down; and this 16gave a great deal of work to do that behoved to be done quickly; wherefore even women and children helped the men in carrying earth, stones, &c., for, by this time, there was in the city a pretty general disaffection towards the king; and those that wished him well and could not get to him, found it best to hold their peace.
