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<h1>Cherry & Violet:<br/><i>A Tale of the </i><b>Great Plague</b></h1>
<h2>BY Anne Manning</h2>
<h2 id='ch01' class='c007'>CHAPTER I</h2>
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<div><i>The Reminiscences of Mistress Cherry.—The Fire, & Double Tide.—Mal-conversation.</i></div>
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<p>
I 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
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_2'>2</span>with 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.</p>
<p class='c013'>My Father married my Mother in the
Spring of the Year 1632: being then in
the Prime of Life, a personable, charming-looking
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_3'>3</span>Man, 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
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_4'>4</span>him well, that the <i>Trojan</i> 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.</p>
<p class='c013'>In Dress, his Taste was excessive neat,
and yet gaudy; so that on <i>Sundays</i>, 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
<i>Mark</i> 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
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_5'>5</span>that 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.”</p>
<p class='c013'>Of my Cousin <i>Mark</i>, 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 <i>Trojan</i>
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_6'>6</span>Horse, 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.</p>
<p class='c013'>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.</p>
<p class='c013'>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
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_7'>7</span>had 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 <i>Blower</i>, and <i>Dolly</i>, the Cook.</p>
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<p><span class='small'>My Father’s shop was on the east side of London Bridge</span></p>
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<p class='c013'>My Father’s Shop was on the east Side
of <i>London Bridge</i>. Over his Door hung
his Sign of “<i>The Lock of Hair</i>;” and over
the Shop-front was painted in yellow
Letters the following Inscription,—</p>
<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Peter Curling</span> <i>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</i>.”</p>
<p class='c012'>On the opposite Side of the Way, was
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_8'>8</span>a Vintner’s, by the Name of <i>Abel</i>, who
had humorously set up <i>a Bell</i> for his Sign,
and painted beneath it, “Quoth the Wag,
I am <i>Abel</i>.”</p>
<p class='c013'>Next Door to us on one Side, lived a
Bookseller and Stationer named <i>Benskin</i>,
whose Sign was the Bible and Star; and
next Door to us on the other Side was
a Glover named <i>Hugh Braidfoot</i>, a jolly,
good-tempered Bachelor, black-haired,
fresh-coloured, and six Feet high, whose
Sign was the Roebuck.</p>
<p class='c013'>A few Weeks after my Birth, which
was in <i>February, 1633</i>, 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 <i>St. Magnus’</i>
Church to the first open Space on the
Bridge. There was, I have heard tell,
much bodily Hurt as well as Destruction
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_9'>9</span>of 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 <i>Thames</i> 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 <i>Samuel Armytage</i>, Haberdasher of
small Wares; the Infant being, like myself,
a Nursling of only a few Weeks old.
These homeless Strangers did my Mother
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_10'>10</span>hospitably 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 <i>Violet</i>
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.</p>
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<p class='c013'><span class="pagenum" id='Page_11'>11</span>Now, though I cannot, of course, remember
Anything of the Fire, I have a
perfect Recollection of the next notable
Occurrence among us, of <i>the Double Tide</i>,
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 <i>Greenwich</i>, 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?</p>
<p class='c013'><span class="pagenum" id='Page_12'>12</span>The Year before the Double Tide, there
had been much Talk in my Father’s
Shop, about the Earl of <i>Strafford</i> 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 <i>Tower</i> to <i>Westminster</i>, 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
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_13'>13</span>the Number of about six Thousand, (my
Cousin, <i>Mark Blenkinsop</i>, being among
them,) who assembled themselves in an
intimidating Manner at <i>Westminster</i>, many
of them armed with Swords and Staves,
and demanded Lord <i>Strafford’s</i> Death of
the Peers as they went to the House.</p>
<p class='c013'>I remember my Father, for as small a
Man as he was, collaring <i>Mark</i> when he
came back, and dealing him one or two
Blows, which made me begin to cry, and
run in between them. And <i>Mark</i>, though
a great, tall Lad of his Years, began to
whimper too, which reminds me again of
the <i>Trojan</i> 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 <i>Mark</i>, “the
Earl deserves to die, for his” ... Mal-conversation,
or Malministration, I forget
which. And my Father replied, “Never
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_14'>14</span>trouble 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
<i>Earl</i> standeth or falleth.”</p>
<p class='c013'>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 <i>King</i> 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
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_15'>15</span>Seasons of Danger or the Apprehension
of it.</p>
<p class='c013'>Soon there was open War between <i>King</i>
and <i>Parliament</i>, 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 <i>Lords</i> and <i>Commons</i> had directed that
the whole City should be put in a State
of Defence, and that the <i>Lord Mayor</i> and
Citizens should trench, stop, and fortify
all Highways leading thereunto. Wherefore,
all Entrances into <i>London</i> 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 <i>London Wall</i>, that
were near enough to be advantageous to
an Enemy, were taken down; and this
<span class="pagenum" id='Page_16'>16</span>gave 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
<i>King</i>; and those that wished him well
and could not get to him, found it best to
hold their Peace.</p>
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