The day which was spent by Thomas Garret in retracing his steps
back to Oxford was passed not unhappily by Anthony Dalaber, who,
after the lapse of two uneventful days, began to draw breath again,
and make sure of the safety of his friend.
He had matters of his own which occupied much of his attention. The
store of forbidden books brought to Oxford by Garret had been
divided pretty equally between him and Radley; and Dalaber had
contrived a very ingenious hiding place just outside his lodging
room in St. Alban Hall, where, by removing some planking of the
floor, a cavity in the wall had been carefully excavated, and the
books secreted there, where it would be difficult for any to find
them who had not the clue to the hiding place.
It was safer to hide them outside the chamber, as, if discovered,
their presence would not incriminate any one--so Dalaber believed.
Even Fitzjames, though sharing his lodging and some of his views,
did not know where he kept his store of books. They formed such a
dangerous possession that Dalaber spoke of them only to those who
were heart and soul in the movement. And he decided not to remove
them with his other belongings to Gloucester College, as he had no
safe repository there to hold them, and it seemed to him that for
the present the time had gone by for any work of distribution. It
would he needful for the present to keep very quiet, until the
suspicions which had evidently been aroused in the minds of the
authorities should be laid to rest.
It was with a certain sense of relief that Dalaber definitely
decided to quit the study of theology and divinity, and to throw
himself into that of the law. Religious controversy had become
suddenly distasteful to him. The Questions and other books of the
theological faculty appeared to him futile and unsatisfactory. He
had definitely resolved upon the secular life for himself; and
although that did not mean that his convictions were shaken, or
that his faith was in any way less precious to him, it gave to him
a certain sense of elasticity and freedom of thought and spirit.
He could take Dr. Langton as his standard of what a man should be.
He did not mix himself up with the burning and controverted
questions of the day. He followed his studies in medicine and
Greek. His house was a resort of learned men of all schools of
thought. Free discussion was carried on there on all sorts of
subjects. He favoured the liberality of mind which the church
opposed; yet he did not embroil himself with the authorities, and
led his own quiet scholarly life, respected and revered of all.
"That is the life for me," spoke Dalaber, as he looked round his
new lodging, and admired the fashion in which his belongings had
been set up there. "I will follow the secular calling, keeping my
soul and spirit free to follow the promptings of the Spirit.
Whenever I see the opportunity to strike a blow in the cause of
freedom, may God give me strength to strike boldly and fearlessly;
but I will not thrust myself forward into needless peril. Obedience
has its place in the church as well as other virtues. I will not be
untrue to my conscience or my convictions, but without good cause I
will not embroil myself in these hot controversies and perilous
matters. I have no quarrel with Holy Church, as Master Clarke
expounds her, I would only see her cleansed and purged of her
iniquity, shedding light--the light of God--upon the paths of her
children. Perchance, as he says, if we prayed more for her--if we
pleaded more with her in secret, interceding before God for her
corruptions and unholiness--He Himself would cleanse and purge her,
and fit her for her high and holy calling. Love is stronger than
hate, for love is of God. I would seek more of that spirit of love
which shines and abides so firm in Him. I have been in peril--I am
sure of it--and the Lord has saved me from the mouth of the lion.
Let me show my gratitude to Him not by falling away from the narrow
path which leads to life everlasting, but by treading it in
meekness and humility, in His strength rather than mine own."
Dalaber was not unconscious of the besetting faults and failings of
his temperament--an impulsive self confidence, followed by moments
of revolt and lassitude and discouragement. He knew that a quiet
stability was the quality he lacked, and that the fire of
enthusiasm and the revolt against abuses which blazed hot within
him was not the holiest frame of mind in which to meet a crisis
such as had lately threatened him. He knew that he might have been
tempted to speak dangerous words, to rail against those in
authority, and to bring deeper trouble upon himself in consequence.
The influence of the fiery Garret upon him was always of this
character. Now that he had gone, Dalaber was able to review the
situation much more calmly and quietly, and to see that the Lord
and His apostles were not advocates of violence and disruption,
that they inculcated reverence to governors, spiritual and
temporal, as well as patience, long suffering, meekness,
gentleness, and forbearance. The sword of the Spirit was not a
carnal weapon. Its work was of a higher and holier nature. It might
have to be drawn forth in battle; but it must be wielded in
obedience, and not in irresponsible rebellion. Faithful
steadfastness was asked of all God's children; but not all were
called on to go forth as champions of even a righteous cause. Their
duty might be to stand and wait for what the Lord would bid them
do.
Dalaber had a strong conviction that alone, and acting upon his own
impulses only, he would do harm rather than good. He was not the
stuff of which leaders are made. He knelt down suddenly, and prayed
for grace and guidance; and scarcely had he risen from his knees
before a step upon the stairs and a knock at the door warned him of
the approach of a visitor.
The next minute Arthur Cole stood before him. He was followed by a
servant, who laid down a bulky parcel and departed.
"Ah, friend Dalaber," spoke Cole, with a kindly grip of the hand,
"it was told me you were moving into fresh quarters here, and
methought a few plenishings might not come amiss to your lodgings.
You are something of an anchorite in your method of living,
Anthony; but this chamber deserves a little adornment, if you are
not averse to such."
So speaking, Arthur unfastened the package, and there was a soft
skin rug to lay before the hearth, where a small fire of wood and
fir cones was burning; a gaily striped quilt for the truckle bed
covered it up and gave it an air of elegance; and a few books--in
those days a costly and valued possession--completed the kindly
bequest.
"They tell me you are to prosecute your studies in the law," he
said, as he ranged the volumes beside Dalaber's own sparse
collection on the shelf; "and since I have trodden the path before
you, you are welcome to these volumes, which I seldom refer to now,
and can always borrow from you if need should arise."
"You are a true friend, Arthur," answered Dalaber, much gratified
and delighted. "I thank you heartily. You are a friend to all, and
we owe you much. It is the more kindly and welcome because you are
not one of us in other matters, and might very well have withdrawn
from all companionship with those upon whom the wrath of the
cardinal is like soon to fall."
"I would speak somewhat anent that same matter, Anthony," said
Arthur, suddenly turning upon his friend, and signing him to take
the seat opposite. "It is in some sort on that account I have come.
But first tell me--is Thomas Garret safely away?"
Yes; on his way--"
"Nay, tell me not that. I have no wish to learn his
whereabouts--only that he is safe outside the city, and not likely
to be taken."
"He has been away these two days; and if not taken already, I trow
he will escape altogether."
Arthur heaved a sigh of satisfaction and relief.
"I am right glad to hear that, Anthony--for your sake almost more
than for his, since you are my friend."
"And why for my sake, Arthur?"
"Marry, thus that had Garret been found in the place, they would
not have stopped short with laying hands upon him. They would have
seized also those who had consorted with him. Not finding him, they
begin to doubt whether the cardinal was right in tracing him
hither, and whether he and his books have indeed been brought here.
But let them once lay hands upon him, and not he alone, but also
his comrades and associates, will stand in much peril. So have a
care, friend Anthony."
Dalaber felt the thrill of what was half relief, half fear, run
through him; but his glance did not quail.
"He is gone," he answered quietly, "and no man has sought to lay
hands upon me."
"No, and right glad am I of it. I have spoken up for you as one of
my friends, and a young man of promise and integrity. But I beg you
to have a care for the future, Anthony, and especially during these
Lenten weeks upon which we have just entered. For a strict watch
will be kept over all suspected men; and if you are found with
forbidden books in your possession--"
Arthur's eyes roved keenly round the pleasant chamber as he left
his sentence unfinished.
"I have none here," answered Dalaber. "I have nothing but mine own
little copy of the Gospels, which I carry ever on my own person.
There are no books here to bring danger upon me or any."
"I am right glad to hear it, and I trust you will have no more to
do with that perilous traffic. For sooner or later it will bring
all men into trouble who mix themselves up with it. And for you who
can read the Scriptures in the tongues in which they were written
there is the less excuse. I warn you to have a care, friend
Anthony, in your walk and conversation. I trust that the storm will
pass by without breaking; but there is no telling. There is peril
abroad, suspicion, anger, and distrust. A spark might fire a mighty
blaze. The cardinal's warning and rebuke to the heads of colleges
has wrought great consternation and anger. They are eager to purge
themselves of the taint of heresy, and to clear themselves in his
eyes."
"I misdoubt me they will ever succeed there," muttered Dalaber,
with a slight smile. "Thought will not be chained."
"No; but men can think in silence and act with prudence," spoke
Arthur, with a touch of sharpness in his tone. "I would that you
thinkers, who stand in peril of being excommunicated as heretics,
had a little more of the wisdom of the serpent which the Scriptures
enjoin upon the devout."
"Excommunicated!" exclaimed Dalaber, and said no more.
To a devout young student, who had all his life through regularly
attended the office of the Mass, and had communicated frequently,
and prepared himself with confession and fasting and prayer, the
idea of excommunication was terrible. That the Mass was overlaid
and corrupted in some of its rites and ceremonies Dalaber and
others were beginning openly to admit; but that it was based upon
the one sacrifice of the atonement, and was showing forth the
Lord's death according to His own command, none doubted for a
moment; and to be debarred from sharing in that act of worship was
not a thought easily to be contemplated.
Arthur saw his advantage and pressed it.
"Yes, my friend--excommunicated. That is the fate of those who mix
themselves up in these matters, and draw down upon their heads the
wrath of such men as the cardinal. Believe me, there is such a
thing as straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. And that is
what you might chance to find you had done, were you cast out from
the fold of the church for a few rash acts of ill-advised rebellion
and disobedience, when all the while you might have lived in peace
and safety, waiting till a better time shall come. If this movement
is of God, will He not show it and fight for it Himself?"
"Yes; but He must use men in the strife, as He uses men in His Holy
Church for their offices there. Yet, believe me, I do not desire
strife. I would rather live at peace with all men. I have taken up
a secular calling, that I may not be embroiled, and that I may be
free to marry a wife when the time comes. Always shall I love and
revere those who stand for truth and righteousness; always, I pray,
shall I have strength to aid them when occasion serves: but I shall
not embark on any crusade upon mine own account. You may make your
mind easy on that score, my friend. I do not desire strife and
controversy."
Arthur looked relieved, and smiled his approval.
"Then I trust that on your account, friend Anthony, my fears are
needless. I would that I were not anxious also for our beloved
friend and master, John Clarke."
"Is he in peril?" asked Dalaber, with a startled look. "He had no
great dealings with Master Garret."
"No; and for that I am thankful. But there are other causes for
fear. The cardinal wrote to the chancellor that he had been told
how that Oxford was becoming deeply tainted with heresy, that
Garret was selling his books by scores to the clerks and students
and masters, and that teaching and lectures were being held
contrary to the spirit of the church. This has stirred the hearts of
the authorities deeply; they have been making close investigation,
and have sent word back to the cardinal what they have found here."
"And what have they found?" asked Dalaber, breathlessly.
"I know not all; but mine uncle told me this much--that they have
reported to the cardinal how that the very men chosen and sent by
him to 'his most towardly college,' as they call it, are those
amongst whom the 'unrighteous leaven' is working most freely, and
they specially mention Clarke and Sumner and the singing man Radley
as examples of danger to others. What will come of this letter God
alone may tell. It has been dispatched, together with the
intimation that Garret is not to be found in or near Oxford. We
await in fear and trembling the cardinal's reply. Heaven grant that
he do not order the arrest of our good friends and godly
companions! I am no lover of heresy, as thou dost know, friend
Anthony; but from Master Clarke's lips there have never fallen
words save those of love and light and purity. To call him a
heretic would bring disgrace upon the Church of Christ. Even mine
uncle, to whom I spoke as much, said he had never heard aught but
good spoken of these men."
Dalaber looked very anxious and troubled. The friends sat silent
awhile, and then Arthur suddenly rose to his feet, saying:
"Let us go and see Master Clarke and have speech of him. I have not
been able to get near to him alone since I knew of this matter--so
many flock to his rooms for teaching or counsel. But let us to St.
Frideswyde for evensong. He will certainly be in his place there,
and afterwards he will accompany us, or let us accompany him, to
his chamber, where we can talk of these things in peace. I have
much that I would fain say to him."
"And for my part, I have promised to sing in the choir at the
evensong service there as ofttimes as I can spare the time," said
Dalaber, rising and throwing on his gown. "I have not seen Master
Clarke these past two days. I would tell him of the safe escape of
Master Garret; for the twain are sincere friends, and belong both
to the brotherhood, though they agree not in all things, and have
diverse views how the church is to be made more pure--"
"Peace, peace, good Anthony!" spoke Arthur, with a half laugh.
"Thou must have a care how thou dost talk rank heresy, and to whom.
Such words are safe enow with me; but they say that even walls have
ears."
"It is my weakness that I speak too freely," answered Dalaber, who
had already opened the door. "But in sooth I trow we are safe here,
for yonder chamber belongs to the monk Robert Ferrar, who--But no
matter. I will say no more. My tongue is something over fond of
running away with me, when I am with friends."
Evensong at St. Frideswyde's was always a well-attended service.
Although it was now the chapel of Cardinal College, the old name
still clung to it. The cardinal had removed much of the former
priory and chapel of St. Frideswyde to carry out the plans for his
college; but though the collegiate buildings were called by his
name, the chapel generally retained its older and more familiar
title. The daily services were better performed there than in any
other college chapel; and many men, like Dalaber himself, possessed
of good voices, sang in the choir as often as their other duties
permitted them.
Service over, the two friends passed out together, and waited for
Clarke, who came quietly forth, his face alight with the shining of
the Spirit, which was so noticeable in him after any religious
exercise.
He greeted them both in brotherly fashion, and gladly welcomed them
to his lodging.
There was something very characteristic of the man in the big, bare
room he inhabited. It was spotlessly clean--more clean than any
servant would keep it, though the canons of Cardinal College were
permitted a certain amount of service from paid menials. The scanty
furniture was of the plainest. There was nothing on the floor to
cover the bare boards. Two shelves of books displayed his most
precious possessions; the rest of his household goods were ranged
in a small cupboard in a recess. His bed was a pallet, covered by
one blanket. There was no fire burning on his hearth. Several
benches ranged along the walls, and a rather large table, upon
which a number of books and papers lay, stood in the middle of the
room. One corner had been partitioned off, and was very plainly
fitted up as an oratory. A beautiful crucifix in ivory was the only
object of value in all the room.
Arthur and Anthony both knew the place well, but neither entered it
without a renewed sensation impossible to define.
"It is the abode of peace and of prayer," Dalaber had once said to
Freda, describing the lodging to her. "You seem to feel it and to
breathe it in the very air. However worn and anxious, fretful or
irate, you are when you enter, a hush of peace descends upon your
spirit, like the soft fluttering of the wings of a dove. Your
burden falls away; you know not how. You go forth refreshed and
strengthened in the inner man. Your darkness of spirit is flooded
by a great light."
They sat down in the failing gleams of the setting sun, and Dalaber
told of Garret's night and the errand on which he was bound. Arthur
smiled, and slightly shrugged his shoulders; but the confidence his
friend unconsciously put in him by these revelations was sacred to
him. He had not desired to know; but at least the secret was safe
with him.
"He will not go there," said Clarke, as he heard the tale.
"Not go to my brother?" questioned Dalaber quickly.
"No, he will not go there. I know the man too well to believe it.
The impulse for flight came upon him, and he was persuaded that it
might be an open door. But he will not carry the plan through. His
conscience will not permit him to hire himself under a false name
to a man who believes him an orthodox priest holding his own views.
Garret will never do that, and he will be right not to do it. It
would be a false step. One may not tamper with the truth, nor act
deceitfully in holy things."
Then Arthur Cole began to speak, and to tell Clarke what had
happened with regard to the cardinal and the heads of various
houses, and how his own name had been set down as one who was
suspected of the taint of heresy.
"They know that men come to your rooms to read the Scriptures and
discourse thereon," he concluded, "and in these times that is
almost enough to brand a man a heretic. And yet I know that you are
not one. I would that the cardinal himself were half so true a
servant of God."
A slight smile passed over Clarke's beautiful face. The light
seemed to deepen within his eyes.
"Take heed, my kindly young friend, or men will call thee heretic
next," he said. "It is hard to know sometimes what they mean by the
word. Let it be enough for us to know that we are all members of
the mystical body of Christ, and that none can sever us from our
union with Him, save He Himself; and His word, even to the erring
and the feeble and the sinner, is, 'Come unto me. Him that cometh I
will in no wise cast out.'"
"I know, I know--if that were only enough!" cried Arthur, in
perplexity and distress.
"It is enough for me," answered Clarke, with his illuminating
smile.
"But will you not have a greater care for yourself--for our sakes
who love you, if not for your own?" urged the other.
"What would you have me to do, or not to do?" asked Clarke.
"I would have you abandon your reading and discussions--for a time.
I would have you, perhaps, even quit Oxford till this storm sweeps
by. Why should you not visit your friends in Cambridge? It would
excite no great wonderment that you should do so. We cannot spare
you to the malice of enemies; and Garret being escaped from the
snare, there is no knowing upon whom they may next lay hands. It
would break my heart if mischance happened to you, Master Clarke;
wherefore I pray you have a care for yourself."
Clarke regarded both young men with a very tender smile.
"I think I will not go; and how can I refuse to speak with those
who come to me? The reading of the Scriptures in any tongue has not
been forbidden by the Holy Catholic Church. I will maintain that
against all adversaries. What I say here in my room I will maintain
before all men, and will show that the Lord Himself, by His holy
apostles and prophets, has taught the same. If any are in peril
through words which I have spoken, shall I flee away and leave them
to do battle alone? Nay; but I will remain here and be found at my
post. My conscience is clear before God and man. I have not
disobeyed His voice nor yet that of the Catholic Church. Let Him
judge betwixt us. I am in His hands. I am not afraid what man can
do unto me."
Dalaber's face kindled at the sound of these words, and the flame
of his enthusiasm for this man blazed up afresh. There had been
times when he had fancied that Garret possessed the stronger
spirit, because his words were more full of fire, and he was ever a
man of action and strife. But when Garret had been brought face to
face with peril his nerve had given way. He had struggled after
courage, but all the while he had been ready to fly. He had spoken
of coming martyrdom with loftiness of resolution; but he had
wavered, and had been persuaded that the time had not yet come.
Something in Clarke's gentle steadfastness seemed loftier to
Anthony Dalaber than what he had witnessed in Garret a few days
back. Yet he would have said that Garret would have flown in the
face of danger without a fear, whilst Clarke would have hung back
and sought to find a middle course.
"But if these meetings be perilous," urged Arthur, "why will you
not let them drop--for the sake of others, if not your own?"
He looked calmly in the questioner's eyes as he answered:
"I invite no man to come to me to read or discourse. If any so
come, I warn them that there may be peril for them; and many I have
thus sent away, for they have not desired to run into any peril.
Those who gather round me here are my children in the Lord. I may
not refuse to receive them. But I will speak earnestly to them of
the danger which menaces them and us; and if any be faint hearted,
let them draw back. I would not willingly bring or lead any into
peril. But I may not shut my door nor my heart against my children
who come to me. The chariots of God are thousands of angels. They
are round and about us, though we see them not. Let us not fear in
the hour of darkness and perplexity, but wait patiently on the
Lord, and doubt not that in His time and in His way He will give us
our heart's desire."
Clarke's face was uplifted; in the gathering gloom they could
scarcely see it, and yet to both it appeared at that moment as the
face of an angel.