A Change Is Coming

           The year was 1796 in London, England, and a young scholar by the name of James Pettimore made his way home from The University of Oxford to his parent’s home in London, England.

           The twelve-hour journey by horse and buggy was less than comfortable, but James always tried to make the best of every situation. He turned his focus away from the rough terrain and the horrific stench of the horses (and possibly the coachman) and concentrated on his studies instead.

           James had been studying Literature at Oxford and was currently reading a poem titled, “Paradise Lost” by a writer named John Milton. The poem describes the fall from grace of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. James considered this to be one of the greatest literary pieces he had ever read, and he was intrigued at how it captured his every thought. Before he knew it, the journey had ended, and he arrived back in London.

           After exiting the buggy, the coachman helped James with his bags, and he started the short walk to his home on Bridewell Lane. It was a red-brick manor house which looked more like green with the entanglement of ivy that snaked its way up the exterior walls.

           When he opened the door, he was greeted by Fred, his father’s prized Springer Spaniel. Fred was an excellent hunting dog, ever faithful to his master. James was certain that Fred had smelled him coming from the time he stepped off the buggy.

           Katherine, James’ mother, gracefully entered the foyer and embraced her son tightly. It had been several months since he had last been home. She led him to his father’s study. The room was dimly lit with the glow of a gas lamp flickering on a small table next to a wing-backed chair where his father sat smoking on his pipe. The aroma from the tobacco brought back memories from his past.

           He recalled how he and his father, Peter, would sit on the bench in the park and read countless poems and stories while whisps of smoke floated across his nostrils. At first, the odor was pungent to James, but in time, he learned to appreciate it.

           As James entered the study, his father waved him over. “Have a seat, my boy,” Peter said. “How are things at my alma mater?”

           “Simply wonderful, father. My professors are absolutely brilliant!” James exclaimed.

           “Good show! Good show!” his father raved. “I knew you would do me proud.”

           Peter was a man of few words, which was ironic considering that he himself was a literary scholar. He spent more time reading and writing than he did talking. When James realized his father had nothing more to say, he excused himself and went to join his mother in the parlor where she was entertaining a few of her female friends with tea and crumpets. Each of the women were elegantly dressed. They daintily held the teacups between their thumbs and forefinger and quietly sipped the hot beverage before drying their lips with a handkerchief.

           His mother introduced James to the ladies as he entered. James went to each woman one-by-one and kissed each of their gloved hands. He paused when he reached a young woman slightly younger than he. Her pale blue eyes pierced through to his soul in an instant. She was more beautiful than any woman he had ever laid eyes on in the past. His mother introduced her as Abigail.

           James was dumbstruck and simply stood there holding Abigail’s hand and staring into her eyes. Abigail could feel her cheeks turning crimson red as she stared back at this handsome man before her. His chiseled chin and deep brown eyes that matched his dark, stylish hairdo. She could feel the chemistry building between them as well.

           In the days to follow, not wanting to seem too eager, James dropped subtle hints to his mother trying to find out more about sweet Abigail. His mother smiled knowingly and let James know where he could find Abigail if he wanted to call on her.

           James immediately left the house and ran two blocks to Bleaker Street where Abigail lived with her family. He straightened his jacket, stood tall and confident before knocking upon the door. Moments later, the door eased open, and an elderly gentleman dressed in black answered the door. He introduced himself as Charles, the family servant and said that he would see if Miss Abigail was available.

           James was asked to wait in the parlor. A few minutes had passed when Abigail entered the room accompanied by her mother. James stood and introduced himself. She stated that she remembered meeting him a few days earlier at his home, though James could not recall the names or faces of anyone but Abigail.

           “It is my understanding that you wish to call on my daughter, Abigail. Is that correct?”

           Nervously, James replied, “Yes, yes madam, that is correct. I would very much like to get to know your daughter better, with your permission, of course.”

           James spent a good part of the next thirty minutes making small talk and expressing to Abigail’s mother how beautiful her home was. He thought that by winning over her mother, he would stand a better chance of building their trust.

           All-in-all, the visit went well. He found out that Abigail was twenty-one years of age, and that she was studying the arts through private tutors. Every afternoon, she would practice her vocal ranges, every Wednesday and Friday, she would spend three hours each day learning dance, and her father insisted that she use her spare time to study the accomplished artists from across Europe. James was beginning to wonder if she would ever be able to fit him into her busy schedule.

           Over the days and weeks that followed, James and Abigail, escorted by one of their mothers, went on picnics, wandered through art galleries, and flew kites in the park. The only time they were able to be somewhat alone, was when they went out on the lake in a rowboat, but with Abigail’s mother watching keenly like a hawk from the shore. James took that opportunity to express to Abigail his true feelings for her and his desire to marry her one day. She was ecstatic with the suggestion.

           While their relationship continued to grow, they could not help but feel sorrow for others around them, including their own family members who were dying from smallpox. The outbreak in Britain and all over Europe had killed over 10% of the population, and it only seemed to be growing worse by the day. James often wished that he had studied science in university instead of literature. Perhaps then, he could make a difference.

           It was on May 14, 1796, that a breakthrough finally happened. Edward Jenner, a physician, and scientist from England had tested an inoculation on his gardener’s son, a boy named, James Phipps with great success. Soon after word of this breakthrough spread across the land, Jenner’s discovery began to save the lives of thousands who were infected with the smallpox virus.

           After reading this news, James and Abigail embraced one another, though they were quickly interrupted by the sound of Abigail’s mother clearing her throat loudly. James excused himself and left for home to share the news of the vaccine with his parents, though word had spread more quickly than what James could run, for his parents already heard from a nearby neighbour.

           Now more than ever, James wanted to marry Abigail, but to do this, he would have to prove himself worthy of her hand. He must succeed as a writer, so he sat down and began to write whatever came to mind, but his mind always wandered back to his love, Abigail. He took that as a sign and began to write a sonnet based on Abigail. It was quite lengthy when he finished, and he immediately brought it to a publisher in town. Surprisingly, the publisher was impressed with this young man’s talents, and not only did he offer to publish the sonnet, but he also offered James a contract to write exclusively for the publishing company.

           When Abigail’s parents learned of his success, they were overjoyed and gladly accepted James as a proper suitor for their daughter. After a long courtship, James and Abigail were married at All Hallows-by-the-Tower church on Byward Street. It was a beautiful ceremony, and the two families spared no expense to make the wedding day of their children perfect in every way.

           James continued to write a series of poetry, several novels, and even book on European art, with the help of his new bride, Abigail. They traveled Europe studying historic sites and various artisans, before settling down in London once again to raise a family.

           James felt from the time he first laid eyes on Abigail that a change was coming in his life, and he never looked back.