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Updated: October 3, 2024
A woman under a cloud, she talked, pushed to shine; she would be heard, would be applauded. Her chronicler must likewise admit the error of her giving way to a petty sentiment of antagonism on first beholding Mrs. Cramborne Wathin, before whom she at once resolved to be herself, for a holiday, instead of acting demurely to conciliate.
Often have I wished some worthy chronicler had been at hand when Tiverton sat by at the making of the elephant; and then again I have realized that, though the atmosphere was highly charged, it may have been void of homely talk.
Well does the old chronicler, Henry of Huntingdon, say: "God had chosen the Normans to humble the English nation, because He perceived that they were more fierce than any other people." And we modern English must remember that we are the descendants of old English and Normans combined.
The King of Scotland thought, the chronicler adds, that these were "uncouth and sharp words" an opinion in which the reader will agree.
Harold, "not witting," says the chronicler, "how to escape from this pressing danger," promised all the duke asked of him, reckoning, doubt-less, on disregarding his engagement; and for the moment William asked him nothing more.
The ladies' tastes were considered in the profusion of flowers, and we each found an exquisite bouquet by our plate. I cannot possibly give you a minute account of the whole menu; in fact, as it is, I feel rather like Froissart, who, after chronicling a long list of sumptuous dishes, is not ashamed to confess, "Of all which good things I, the chronicler of this narration, did partake!"
II. Now, secondly, my text and its context solve the mystery which it raises. The chronicler, as I said, wishes us to notice the sequence, strange as it is, and to wonder at it for a moment, in order that we may be prepared the better to take in the grand explanation that follows. And the explanation lies in the facts that ensue. Did Sennacherib come to destroy? By no means!
A "black and fatal" day was this, says the chronicler, "the saddest that ever befell New England." To this day the memory of the slaughter at Bloody Brook survives, and the visitor to South Deerfield may read the inscription over the grave in which Major Treat's men next day buried all the victims together. Things were becoming desperate.
She had counted upon none but imaginary characters, though she had determined to clothe these with reality through study but now, she had discovered, she had been the chronicler of a real incident, and two of her characters had been pitted against each other in a contest in which there had been enough bitterness to provide the animus necessary to carry them through succeeding pages, ready and willing to fly at each other's throats.
There needs no better picture of his destitute and piteous situation than that furnished by the homely pen of the chronicler, who is unwarily enlisting the feelings of the reader in favor of the hapless warrior whom he reviles.
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