Japhet, In Search Of A Father by Frederick Marryat

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"And the young person who was at my bedside, is she his wife?"

"Nay, friend, she is half-sister to the wife of Phineas Cophagus by a
second marriage, and a maiden, who was named Susannah Temple at the
baptismal font; but I will go to Phineas Cophagus and acquaint him of
your waking, for such were his directions."

The man then quitted the room, leaving me quite astonished with the
information he had imparted. Cophagus turned Quaker! and attending me
in the town of Reading. In a short time Mr Cophagus himself entered in
his dressing-gown. "Japhet!" said he, seizing my hand with eagerness,
and then, as if recollecting, he checked himself, and commenced in a
slow tone, "Japhet Newland--truly glad am I--hum--verily do I
rejoice--you, Ephraim--get out of the room--and so on."

"Yea, I will depart, since it is thy bidding," replied the man, quitting
the room.

Mr Cophagus then greeted me in his usual way--told me that he had found
me insensible at the door of a house a little way off, and had
immediately recognised me. He had brought me to his own home, but without
much hope of my recovery. He then begged to know by what strange chance
I had been found in such a desolate condition. I replied, "that although
I was able to listen, I did not feel myself equal to the exertion of
telling so long a story, and that I should infinitely prefer that he
should narrate to me what had passed since we had parted at Dublin,
and how it was that I now found that he had joined the sect of Quakers."

"Peradventure--long word that--um--queer people--very good--and so on,"
commenced Mr Cophagus; but as the reader will not understand his
phraseology quite so well as I did, I shall give Mr Cophagus's history
in my own version.

Mr Cophagus had returned to the small town at which he resided, and,
on his arrival, he had been called upon by a gentleman who was of the
Society of Friends, requesting that he would prescribe for a niece of his,
who was on a visit at his house, and had been taken dangerously ill.
Cophagus, with his usual kindness of heart, immediately consented, and
found that Mr Temple's report was true. For six weeks he attended the
young Quakeress, and recovered her from an imminent and painful disease,
in which she showed such fortitude and resignation, and such
unconquerable good temper, that when Mr Cophagus returned to his
bachelor's establishment, he could not help reflecting upon what an
invaluable wife she would make, and how much more cheerful his house
would be with such a domestic partner.

In short, Mr Cophagus fell in love, and like all elderly gentlemen who
have so long bottled up their affections, he became most desperately
enamoured; and if he loved Miss Judith Temple when he witnessed her
patience and resignation under suffering, how much more did he love her
when he found that she was playful, merry, and cheerful, without being
boisterous, when restored to her health. Mr Cophagus's attentions could
not be misunderstood. He told her uncle that he had thought seriously
of wedding cake--white favours--marriage--family--and so on; and to the
young lady he had put his cane up to his nose and prescribed, "A dose of
matrimony--to be taken immediately." To Mr Cophagus there was no
objection raised by the lady, who was not in her teens, or by the uncle,
who had always respected him as a worthy man, and a good Christian; but
to marry one who was not of her persuasion, was not to be thought of.
Her friends would not consent to it. Mr Cophagus was therefore dismissed,
with a full assurance that the only objection which offered was, that he
was not of their society.

Mr Cophagus walked home discomforted. He sat down on his easy chair, and
found it excessively uneasy--he sat down to his solitary meal, and found
that his own company was unbearable--he went to bed, but found that it
was impossible to go to sleep. The next morning, therefore, Mr Cophagus
returned to Mr Temple, and stated his wish to be made acquainted with
the difference between the tenets of the Quaker persuasion and those of
the Established Church. Mr Temple gave him an outline, which appeared to
Mr Cophagus to be very satisfactory, and then referred him to his niece
for fuller particulars. When a man enters into an argument with a full
desire to be convinced, and with his future happiness perhaps depending
upon that conviction; and when, further, those arguments are brought
forward by one of the prettiest voices, and backed by the sweetest of
smiles, it is not to be wondered at his soon becoming a proselyte. Thus
it was with Mr Cophagus, who in a week, discovered that the peace,
humility, and good-will, upon which the Quaker tenets are founded, were
much more congenial to the true spirit of the Christian revelation than
the Athanasian Creed, to be sung or said in our Established Churches;
and with this conviction, Mr Cophagus requested admission into the
fraternity, and shortly after his admission, it was thought advisable by
the Friends that his faith should be confirmed and strengthened by his
espousal of Miss Judith Temple, with whom, at her request--and he could
refuse her nothing--he had repaired to the town of Reading, in which her
relations all resided; and Phineas Cophagus, of the Society of Friends,
declared himself to be as happy as a man could be. "Good people,
Japhet--um--honest people, Japhet--don't fight--little stiff--spirit
moves--and so on," said Mr Cophagus, as he concluded his narrative, and
then shaking me by the hand, retired to shave and dress.

Chapter LXII

I fall in love with religion when preached by one who has the
form of an angel.

In half an hour afterwards Ephraim came in with a draught, which I was
desired to take by Mr Cophagus, and then to try and sleep. This was good
advice, and I followed it. I awoke after a long, refreshing sleep, and
found Mr and Mrs Cophagus sitting in the room, she at work and he
occupied with a book. When I opened my eyes, and perceived a female, I
looked to ascertain if it was the young person whom Ephraim had stated
to be Susannah Temple; not that I recollected her features exactly, but
I did the contour of her person. Mrs Cophagus was taller, and I had a
fair scrutiny of her before they perceived that I was awake. Her face
was very pleasing, features small and regular. She appeared to be about
thirty years of age, and was studiously neat and clean in her person.
Her Quaker's dress was not without some little departure from the strict
fashion and form, sufficient to assist, without deviating from, its
simplicity. If I might use the term, it was a little coquettish, and
evinced that the wearer, had she not belonged to that sect, would have
shown great taste in the adornment of her person.

Mr Cophagus, although he did not think so himself, as I afterwards found
out, was certainly much improved by his change of costume. His
spindle-shanks, which, as I have before observed, were peculiarly at
variance with his little orbicular, orange-shaped stomach, were now
concealed in loose trousers, which took off from the protuberance of the
latter, and added dignity to the former, blending the two together, so
that his roundness became fine by degrees, and beautifully less as it
descended. Altogether, the Quaker dress added very much to the
substantiability of his appearance, and was a manifest improvement,
especially when he wore his broad-brimmed hat. Having satisfied my
curiosity, I moved the curtain so as to attract their attention, and
Cophagus came to my bedside, and felt my pulse. "Good--very good--all
right--little broth--throw in bark--on his legs--well as ever--and so on."

"I am indeed much better this afternoon," replied I; "indeed, so well,
that I feel as if I could get up."

"Pooh:--tumble down--never do--lie a bed--get strong--wife--Mrs
Cophagus--Japhet--old friend."

Mrs Cophagus had risen from her chair, and come towards the bed, when
her husband introduced her in his own fashion. "I am afraid that I have
been a great trouble, madam," said I.

"Japhet Newland, we have done but our duty, even if thou wert not, as
it appears that thou art, a friend of my husband. Consider me, therefore,
as thy sister, and I will regard thee as a brother; and if thou wouldst
wish it, thou shalt sojourn with us, for so hath my husband communicated
his wishes unto me."

I thanked her for her kind expressions, and took the fair hand which was
offered in such amity. Cophagus then asked me if I was well enough to
inform him of what had passed since our last meeting, and telling me that
his wife knew my whole history, and that I might speak before her, he took
his seat by the side of the bed, his wife also drew her chair nearer, and
I commenced the narrative of what had passed since we parted in Ireland.
When I had finished, Mr Cophagus commenced as usual, "Um--very odd--lose
money--bad--grow honest--good--run away from friends--bad--not hung--
good--brain fever--bad--come here--good--stay with us--quite
comfortable--and so on."

"Thou hast suffered much, friend Japhet," said Mrs Cophagus, wiping her
eyes; "and I would almost venture to say, hast been chastised too
severely, were it not that those whom He loveth, He chastiseth. Still
thou art saved, and now out of danger; peradventure thou wilt now quit
a vain world, and be content to live with us; nay, as thou hast the
example of thy former master, it may perhaps please the Lord to advise
thee to become one of us, and to join us as a Friend. My husband was
persuaded to the right path by me," continued she, looking fondly at
him; "who knoweth but some of our maidens may also persuade thee to
eschew a vain, unrighteous world, and follow thy Redeemer in humility?"

"Very true--um--very true," observed Cophagus, putting more Quakerism
than usual in his style, and drawing out his ums to treble their usual
length; "Happy life--Japhet--um--all at peace--quiet amusements--think
about it--um--no hurry--never swear--by-and-bye heh!--spirit may
move--um--not now--talk about it--get well--set up shop--and so on."

I was tired with talking so much, and having taken some nourishment,
gain fell asleep. When I awoke in the evening, friend Cophagus and his
wife were not in the room; but Susannah Temple, whom I had first seen,
and of whom I had made inquiry of Ephraim, who was Cophagus's servant.
She was sitting close to the light and reading, and long did I continue
to gaze upon her, fearful of interrupting her. She was the most
beautiful specimen of clear and transparent white that I ever had
beheld--her complexion was unrivalled--her eyes were large, but I could
not ascertain their colour, as they were cast down upon her book, and
hid by her long fringed eyelashes--her eyebrows arched and regular, as
if drawn by a pair of compasses, and their soft hair in beautiful
contrast with her snowy forehead--her hair was auburn, but mostly
concealed within her cap--her nose was very straight but not very large,
and her mouth was perfection. She appeared to be between seventeen and
eighteen years old, as far as I could ascertain, her figure was
symmetrically perfect. Dressed as she was in the modest, simple garb
worn by the females of the Society of Friends, she gave an idea of
neatness, cleanliness, and propriety, upon which I could have gazed for
ever. She was, indeed, most beautiful. I felt her beauty, her purity,
and I could have worshipped her as an angel. While I still had my eyes
fixed upon her exquisite features, she closed her book, and rising from
her chair, came to the side of the bed. That she might not be startled
at the idea of my having been watching her, I closed my eyes, and
pretended to slumber. She resumed her seat, and then I changed my
position and spoke, "Is any one there?"

"Yes, friend Newland, what is it that thou requirest?" said she,
advancing. "Wouldst thou see Cophagus or Ephraim? I will summon them."

"O no," replied I; "why should I disturb them from their amusements or
employments? I have slept a long while, and I would like to read a little
I think, if my eyes are not too weak."

"Thou must not read, but I may read unto thee," replied Susannah. "Tell
me, what is it that thou wouldest have me read? I have no vain books;
but surely thou thinkest not of them, after thy escape from death."

"I care not what is read, provided that you read to me," replied I.

"Nay, but thou shouldest care; and be not wroth if I say to thee, that
there is but one book to which thou shouldest now listen. Thou hast been
saved from deadly peril--thou hast been rescued from the jaws of death.
Art thou not thankful? And to whom is gratitude most due, but to thy
heavenly Father, who hath been pleased to spare thee?"

"You are right," replied I; "then I pray you to read to me from the
Bible."

Susannah made no reply, but resumed her seat, and selecting those
chapters most appropriate to my situation, read them in a beautiful
and impressive tone.

Chapter LXIII

Pride and love at issue--the latter is victorious--I turn Quaker
and recommence my old profession.

If the reader will recall my narrative to his recollection, he must
observe, that religion had had hitherto but little of my thoughts. I
had lived the life of most who live in this world; perhaps not quite
so correct in morals as many people, for my code of morality was suited
to circumstances; as to religion, I had none. I had lived in the world,
and for the world. I had certainly been well instructed in the tenets
of our faith when I was at the Asylum, but there, as in most other
schools, it is made irksome, as a task, and is looked upon with almost
a feeling of aversion. No proper religious sentiments are, or can be,
inculcated to a large number of scholars; it is the parent alone who
can instil, by precept and example, that true sense of religion, which
may serve as a guide through life. I had not read the Bible from the
time that I quitted the Foundling Hospital. It was new to me, and when
I now heard read, by that beautiful creature, passages equally beautiful,
and so applicable to my situation, weakened with disease, and humbled
in adversity, I was moved, even unto tears.

Susannah closed the book and came to the bedside. I thanked her: she
perceived my emotion, and when I held out my hand she did not refuse
hers. I kissed it, and it was immediately withdrawn, and she left the
room. Shortly afterwards Ephraim made his appearance. Cophagus and his
wife also came that evening, but I saw no more of Susannah Temple until
the following day, when I again requested her to read to me.

I will not detain the reader by an account of my recovery. In three
weeks I was able to leave the room; during that time, I had become very
intimate with the whole family, and was treated as if I belonged to it.
During my illness I had certainly shown more sense of religion than I
had ever done before, but I do not mean to say that I was really
religious. I liked to hear the Bible read by Susannah, and I liked to
talk with her upon religious subjects; but had Susannah been an ugly old
woman, I very much doubt if I should have been so attentive. It was her
extreme beauty--her modesty and fervour, which so became her, which
enchanted me. I felt the beauty of religion, but it was through an
earthly object; it was beautiful in her. She looked an angel, and I
listened to her precepts as delivered by one. Still, whatever may be
the cause by which a person's attention can be directed to so important
a subject, so generally neglected, whether by fear of death, or by love
towards an earthly object, the advantages are the same; and although very
far from what I ought to have been, I certainly was, through my
admiration of her, a better man.

As soon as I was on the sofa, wrapped up in one of the dressing-gowns of
Mr Cophagus, he told me that the clothes in which I had been picked up
were all in tatters, and asked me whether I would like to have others
made according to the usual fashion, or like those with whom I should,
he trusted, in future reside. I had already debated this matter in my
mind. Return to the world I had resolved not to do; to follow up the
object of my search appeared to me only to involve me in difficulties;
and what were the intentions of Cophagus with regard to me, I knew not.
I was hesitating, for I knew not what answer to give, when I perceived
the pensive, deep blue eye of Susannah fixed upon me, watching
attentively, if not eagerly, for my response.

It decided the point. "If," replied I, "you do not think that I should
disgrace you, I should wish to wear the dress of the Society of Friends,
although not yet one of your body."

"But soon to be, I trust," replied Mrs Cophagus.

"Alas!" replied I, "I am an outcast;" and I looked at Susannah Temple.

"Not so, Japhet Newland," replied she, mildly; "I am pleased that thou
hast of thy own accord rejected vain attire. I trust that thou wilt not
find that thou art without friends."

"While I am with you," replied I, addressing myself to them all, "I
consider it my duty to conform to your manners in every way, but
by-and-bye, when I resume my search--"

"And why shouldst thou resume a search which must prove unavailing, and
but leads thee into error and misfortune? I am but young, Japhet Newland,
and not perhaps so able to advise, yet doth it appear to me, that the
search can only be availing when made by those who left thee. When they
wish for you, they will seek thee, but thy seeking them is vain and
fruitless."

"But," replied I, "recollect that inquiries have already been made at the
Foundling, and those who inquired have been sent away disappointed--they
will enquire no more."

"And is a parent's love so trifling, that one disappointment will drive
him from seeking of his child? No, no, Japhet; if thou art yearned for,
thou wilt be found, and fresh inquiries will be made; but thy search is
unavailing, and already hast thou lost much time."

"True, Susannah, thy advice is good," replied Mrs Cophagus; "in following
a shadow Japhet hath much neglected the substance; it is time that thou
shouldst settle thyself, and earn thy livelihood."

"And do thy duty in that path of life to which it hath pleased God to
call thee," continued Susannah, who with Mrs Cophagus walked out of the
room.

Cophagus then took up the conversation, and pointing out the uselessness
of my roving about, and the propriety of my settling in life, proposed
that I should take an apothecary's shop, for which he would furnish the
means, and that he could ensure me the custom of the whole Society of
Friends in Reading, which was very large, as there was not one of the
sect in that line of business. "Become one of us, Japhet--good
business--marry by-and-bye--happy life--little children--and so on." I
thought of Susannah, and was silent. Cophagus then said, I had better
reflect upon his offer, and make up my determination. If that did not
suit me, he would still give me all the assistance in his power. I did
reflect long before I could make up my mind. I was still worldly
inclined; still my fancy would revel in the idea of finding out my
father in high life, and, as once more appearing as a star of fashion,
of returning with interest the contumely I had lately received, and
re-assuming as a right that position in society which I had held under
false colours.

I could not bear the idea of sinking at once into a tradesman, and
probably ending my days in obscurity. Pride was still my ruling passion.
Such were my first impulses, and then I looked upon the other side of
the picture. I was without the means necessary to support myself; I
could not return to high life without I discovered my parents in the
first place, and in the second, found them to be such as my warm
imagination had depicted. I had no chance of finding them. I had
already been long seeking in vain. I had been twice taken up to Bow
Street--nearly lost my life in Ireland--had been sentenced to death--had
been insane, and recovered by a miracle, and all in prosecuting this
useless search. All this had much contributed to cure me of the
monomania. I agreed with Susannah that the search must be made by the
other parties, and not by me. I recalled the treatment I had received
from the world--the contempt with which I had been treated--the
heartlessness of high life, and the little chance of my ever again being
admitted into fashionable society.

I placed all this in juxtaposition with the kindness of those with whom I
now resided--what they had done already for me, and what they now
offered, which was to make me independent by my own exertions. I weighed
all in my mind; was still undecided, for my pride still carried its
weight; when I thought of the pure, beautiful Susannah Temple, and--my
decision was made. I would not lose the substance by running after
shadows.

That evening, with many thanks, I accepted the kind offers of Mr
Cophagus, and expressed my determination of entering into the Society
of Friends.

"Thou hast chosen wisely," said Mrs Cophagus, extending her hand to me,
"and it is with pleasure that we shall receive thee."

"I welcome thee, Japhet Newland," said Susannah, also offering her hand,
"and I trust that thou wilt find more happiness among those with whom
thou art about to sojourn, than in the world of vanity and deceit, in
which thou hast hitherto played thy part. No longer seek an earthly
father, who hath deserted thee, but a heavenly Father, who will not
desert thee in thy afflictions."

"You shall direct me into the right path, Susannah," replied I.

"I am too young to be a guide, Japhet," replied she, smiling; "but
not too young, I hope, to be a friend."

The next day my clothes came home, and I put them on. I looked at myself
in the glass, and was anything but pleased; but as my head was shaved,
it was of little consequence what I wore; so I consoled myself. Mr
Cophagus sent for a barber and ordered me a wig, which was to be ready
in a few days; when it was ready I put it on, and altogether did not
dislike my appearance. I flattered myself that if I was a Quaker, at all
events I was a very good looking and a very smart one; and when, a day or
two afterwards, a reunion of friends took place at Mr Cophagus's house to
introduce me to them, I perceived, with much satisfaction, that there was
no young man who could compete with me. After this, I was much more
reconciled to my transformation.

Chapter LXIV

I prosper in every way, and become reconciled to my situation.

Mr Cophagus was not idle. In a few weeks he had rented a shop for me, and
furnished it much better than his own in Smithfield; the upper part of
the house was let off, as I was to reside with the family. When it was
ready, I went over it with him, and was satisfied; all I wished for was
Timothy as an assistant, but that wish was unavailing, as I knew not
where to find him.

That evening I observed to Mr Cophagus, that I did not much like putting
my name over the shop. The fact was, that my pride forbade it, and I
could not bear the idea, that Japhet Newland, at whose knock every
aristocratic door had flown open, should appear in gold letters above a
shop-window. "There are many reasons against it," observed I. "One is,
that it is not my real name--I should like to take the name of Cophagus;
another is, that the name, being so well known, may attract those who
formerly knew me, and I should not wish that they should come in and
mock me; another is--"

"Japhet Newland," interrupted Susannah, with more severity than I ever
had seen in her sweet countenance, "do not trouble thyself with giving
thy reasons, seeing thou hast given every reason but the right one, which
is, that thy pride revolts at it."

"I was about to observe," replied I, "that it was a name that sounded of
mammon, and not fitting for one of our persuasion. But, Susannah, you
have accused me of pride, and I will now raise no further objections.
Japhet Newland it shall be, and let us speak no more upon the subject."

"If I have wronged thee, Japhet, much do I crave thy forgiveness,"
replied Susannah. "But it is God alone who knoweth the secrets of our
hearts. I was presumptuous, and you must pardon me."

"Susannah, it is I who ought to plead for pardon; you know me better than
I know myself. It was pride, and nothing but pride--but you have cured
me."

"Truly have I hopes of thee now, Japhet," replied Susannah, smiling.
"Those who confess their faults will soon amend them; yet I do think
there is some reason in thy observation, for who knoweth, but meeting
with thy former associates, thou mayst not be tempted into falling
away? Thou mayst spell thy name as thou listest; and, peradventure, it
would be better to disguise it."

So agreed Mr and Mrs Cophagus, and I therefore had it written
_Gnow_-land; and having engaged a person of the society, strongly
recommended to me, as an assistant, I took possession of my shop, and
was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, and dispensing my
medicines in all quarters of the good town of Reading.

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