"And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse--
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted Queen."
Shakespeare.
Few hours had been tolled on the great clock of Saint Paul's, or had
rung across the water from the Tower guns, ere England knew what was the
vengeance to be taken. Once more royal blood was shed upon Tower Hill;
once more England stooped to commit murder at the dictation of a foreign
power. The white dove was sacrificed.
About ten o'clock on the morning of the 12th of February, Lord Guilford
Dudley was beheaded on Tower Hill. It is plain that he died a
Protestant, seeing that no priest was present at his death. And like
the fiends they were, his executioners brought him, both going to the
scaffold, and his dead body in returning, past the windows of
Partridge's house, where his poor young wife had her lodging. They let
her--that tender bird of seventeen short summers--from her chamber
lattice see all the horror she could see, and feel all the agony she
could feel; and then they brought her forth, to die also.
Calmly and quietly, as though she had been going to her forfeited
throne, she came forth to her death. And she was going to her throne.
For she was one of Christ's martyrs, and sat upon His throne with Him.
She spoke very little on the scaffold; only saying that "though she had
consented unto the setting up of herself against the Queen's Highness,
yet was she innocent of all procurement or desire thereof: and that she
died a true Christian woman, looking for eternal life unto the passion
of Jesus Christ only, and to none other; and she thanked God, that had
given her space to repent; for when she was younger, and did know the
word of God, she had neglected the same, and had loved her own self and
the world." And then she said to Dr Feckenham, "Shall I say this
Psalm?"
Feckenham--a man of the Jesuitical type, renowned for the softness and
sweetness of his manners--bowed assent. Then the victim prayed through
the Fifty-first Psalm, and prepared herself for the sacrifice. The
hangman knelt down and asked her forgiveness: she replied, "Most
willingly," and "I pray you, despatch me quickly. Will you take it off
before I lay me down?" Poor child! The executioner was the one who
dealt with her most gently and respectfully. He said, "No, Madam." So
she handed her gloves to one of her women, and her book to Sir John
Bridges, and tied the handkerchief over her eyes. Feeling about with
her hands for the block, she said,--"What shall I do? Where is it?
Where is it?" One of the bystanders guided her hand to it. Then she
laid down her head; and saying, "Lord, into Thy hands I commend my
spirit!" her head fell with one stroke. She was out of Philip's way
now. And the angels of God, for whose company she exchanged a society
somewhat less angelic, were not so likely to account her in their way.
A fearful day was that from dawn to dusk. Half an hour after the
execution of Lady Jane, Lord Courtenay (but a few days before made Earl
of Devon) was brought into the Tower; he would not declare the cause of
his coming there, saying he could not tell; "but," added he, "let the
world judge." All the evening the noise of hammers was going in the
City, for the gallows were set up everywhere. There was one at every
gate of the City, and at the bridge-foot one; four in Southwark, one at
Leadenhall two in Cheapside, six or eight in Fleet Street and Charing
Cross--nor were these all.
Throughout London all the prisons were so full that the less important
prisoners were kept in the churches, by eighty in a group. Dr Thorpe
said, "If they hang all the Queen's subjects, there will be small fear
of a new rebellion." Men greeted each other fearfully, scarcely knowing
if they should ever meet again. But the worst fears of all were
awakened for the Archbishop, Bishop Ridley, and Mr Latimer, within the
Tower, and for Mr Rose outside it. On the 15th of February, Isoult
Avery wrote in her diary--
"In Southwark all this day were the gallows at work, till I am sick at
heart for every sound I hear. The gallows at Aldgate, I thank God,
cannot be seen from our windows, being hid by the gate. If it could, I
scantly know what should come of us. I dare not go forth of the door,
lest I meet some awful sight that I may not forget to my dying day.
"God Himself showeth His displeasure by fearful sights from Heaven. Two
suns should this morrow be seen in the sky, and this even was a rainbow
over London, turned the diverse way, the arch on the ground, and the
points on high. I dare not think what shall come next, either on earth
or in Heaven, unless Christ Himself (that scarce ever was more wanted)
would rend the heavens and come down to save us. Yea, Amen, Lord Jesus,
come Thou quickly!"
But no sign of the Son of Man flashed on that weary land. Not yet was
accomplished the number of the elect; and until the last sheep was
gathered into the fold, there could be no hastening of the kingdom.
The execution of Lady Jane's father quickly followed her own. He died,
as men of his stamp often do, better than he had lived. The "subjection
to bondage from fear of death," in which he had spent his trembling
life, vanished before death came to him. Boldly and bravely this timid,
shrinking soul stood forth at the last, telling all the world that he
died in the faith of Christ, "trusting to be saved by His blood only,
and by no other trumpery." Strange words from one of the weakest men
that ever lived!--yet it is the special characteristic of Christ's
strength that it is "made perfect in weakness." It may be chiefly when
His children come to die that they understand the full meaning of that
passage, "He hath abolished death." For our faith, as it has been said,
is a religion of paradoxes. Strength, whose perfection lies in
weakness,--life, which is founded upon a death--glory, which springs out
of shame and suffering. When the Twelve heard that, to draw all men
unto Him, the Master should be lifted up from the earth, it probably
never dawned upon their minds that the scene of that exaltation was to
be the cross. News that made men tremble came before the end of
February. The Lady Elizabeth had been summoned to Court--was it for
life or death?--and Bishop Bonner had issued a commission of inquiry
concerning all in his diocese, with orders to present all persons who
had failed to frequent auricular confession and the mass. Many fell
away in this time of temptation--Sir William Cecil (afterwards Lord
Burleigh) and his wife Mildred, amongst others. The Duchess of Suffolk
held on her way unwavering. Annis Holland's second letter, which had
been delayed, reached Isoult Avery in the beginning of March.
"Unto my right entirely beloved friend, Mistress Avery, that dwelleth at
the sign of the Lamb, in the Minories, next without Aldgate, beside
London, be these delivered.
"My Very well beloved Isoult,--My most hearty and loving commendations
remembered unto thee. Sithence my last writing have I made a most
woeful discovery, the which I would almost I had not done. But thou
shalt know the same.
"An even of late, I was alone in my chamber sewing, having sent Maria
forth to buy certain gear I lacked. And being so alone, I began to sing
lowly that hymn of Saint Bernard--`Hic breve vivitur, hic breve
plangitur,' [Note 1] when of a sudden I was aroused from my singing by a
sound like a groaning, and that very near. I hearkened, and heard it
again. One was surely moaning in the next chamber. Thinking that one
of the bower-women might be evil at ease and lack one to help her, I
crept forth from my chamber, and, listening at the door of the next,
heard plainly the moaning again. I laid mine hand on the latch, and
entered.
"It was a large chamber, airy, but not light. All the windows were high
up in the wall. There was a bed, divers chairs, and a table; and by the
table sat a woman apparelled in black, her arms laid thereon, and her
head upon them. Her face showed much pain. She lifted her head slowly
as I came towards her, and then I saw that she had the face of a
stranger. `Who is it?' she said in a whispered voice. `My name,
Senora, is Ines de Olanda,' said I. `Meseemeth you lack ease. Could I
in any wise bring it unto you?' `Ay, I lack ease, _muchacha_' (which is
to say, maiden), quoth she. `I lack rest. But that lieth in--the
grave.' She spake slowly and uncertainly. `Whence comest thou?' she
said again. `Thy tone is not of these parts.'--`Senora,' said I, `I am
a stranger from England.'--`And how camest thou hither?' quoth she. `As
reader of English unto the Queen's Highness,' said I. `How much hast
thou read unto the Queen?' she asked, and smiled.
"Her smile lighted up her face marvellously. It was not a fair face. I
misdoubt if it were ever such. Her hair is near white now; but though
her complexion were good, and her eyes shining and dark grey, her
features must have been alway something harsh and strong. `Nothing at
all, Senora,' then said I; `for it is now three months sithence
my coming, and yet had I never the honour to see her
Highness.'--`Traitors!' quoth she angrily; and her features grew harsher
than ever. I stood in silence. `Thou art not a Lutheran?' she said
suddenly. `Methinks it should fare ill, Senora, with any that were so
here,' I made answer, desiring to be discreet. `Is that any answer to
my question?' she said, knitting her brows. `Senora,' said I, trembling
greatly, `I cannot tell a lie, even though you may betray me. I am a
Lutheran.'--`I betray thee!' she said pitifully. `Poor child! whoso
doth that, it will not be I. I am under the same ban.'--`Senora!' I
cried, much astonied, `you are a Lutheran? here, in the Queen's
Palace.'--`Doth that amaze thee?' she answered with another smile.
`Then a second thing I can tell thee will do so yet more:--I am the
Queen.'
"I set myself upon my knees afore her Highness, so soon as my
astonishment would give me leave. `They do not burn me,' she said, in
the slow uncertain way wherein she had spoken at first. `I think they
scarce liked to do that. But I had suffered less; for then it had been
over long ago. They say I am mad. And it doth seem sometimes as if
somewhat in my head were lost,' she saith, pressing her hands wearily
upon her brow. `It was Dona Isabel, my mother. She used to give me the
_cuerda_!'--`Senora,' I answered, `craving your Highness' pardon, I,
being a maid from strange parts, know not that word _cuerda_!'--`Have
they the thing in your land?' answered the Queen heavily. `Did they try
that on my poor sister, your Princess of Wales [Katherine of Aragon]?
_Ay de mi_!'--`I know not,' said I, `under the gracious pleasure of your
Highness, what the thing is.'--`Look!' she said, pointing with her thin,
trembling hand.
"I looked whither she pointed, and in the further corner of the chamber
I saw a frame of pulleys set in the ceiling. But it came not presently
to my mind wherefore they were there. `They set those short sticks
under my arms,' the Queen said, speaking heavily as it were with sleep.
`Then they jerk up the pulleys, and I have to go up with them. It hurts
very much. I think I scream sometimes, and then he beats me for
disturbing people. They alway do it at night. They say I need it, and
I am mad. I marvel if they cure mad people so in England. And I think
if they did it sometimes in the day, it would not disturb people so
much. You see, I understand it not--at least they say so. But I fancy
I understood better before the _cuerda_.'
"I was silent from very horror, as the fearful truth dawned slowly upon
me. `_Ay de mi_!' sighed the Queen again, leaving her head fall back
upon her arms. `My father never used to do so. They say 'tis by his
command. I marvel if they tell me the truth.'--`Who dareth to do thus
unto your Highness?' I said at last. `Denia,' she said, in the same
dreamy fashion, `and them he bringeth with him. They want me to
confess, and to hear mass. I think they make me go sometimes, when that
thing in mine head is lost. But if I know it, I resist them.'
"Again she lifted her head, and her voice grew more resolute.
`_Muchacha_, I have been here twenty-six years. All that time, in this
chamber! They left me two of my children at the first. Then they took
the Infant Don Fernando from me. And all my heart twined round my
little maid,--my last-born, my Catalina! So they took her. I never
knew why. I never did know wherefore they began at all, save for
listening to some French friars that came to see me. And they told me
very good things. God was good, they said, and loved me, and Jesus our
Lord had taken away all my sins. And it was good to think so. So then
_they_ beat me, and set me in the _cuerda_; and they called me an
heretic, and a Lutheran, and all the bad words they knew. I do not
think the holy angels at the gates of Paradise will turn me away, nor
call me an heretic, because I thought Jesus had taken away my sins. If
this be Lutheranism, then I am a Lutheran--then I will be a Lutheran for
ever! And those were good friars, that came from Paris. They say the
Observants are the ones I should believe. The Queen Dona Isabel set
Observants about me. But the Observants beat me, and put me in the
_cuerda_; and the Good Men [Note 2]--the French friars--said Jesus our
Lord loved me, and had taken away all my sins. That was the better
Evangel of the two. That thing in my head goes wrong when they give me
the _cuerda_. But when I can sit quiet like this, and they will let me
alone a little while, I love to think of Jesus our Lord, and of His
taking away all my sins. I know not wherefore I should be beaten for
that. It is my head, thou seest.'
"Poor, poor lady! I felt great tears running down _my face_, and
dropping on my gown as I knelt. `_Ay Senora mia_!' I said, so well as
I could falter it, `Jesus, our dear Lord, hath taken away all our sins
that do believe in Him. He loveth your Highness, and if you will cling
to Him, He will have you to dwell with Himself at the end of this life.'
"I felt I must use words easy to be received, for her understanding
seemed gone, and like unto that of a little child. `_Ay doncella mia_!'
she sighed, `I shall be glad when the end of this life is come.'
"And she laid down her poor head so wearily. `When the Lord seeth
good,' I answered. `Sometimes,' she said dreamily again, `I want so
sorely to go forth. I long so much to breathe the sweet, cool air--to
see the cork-trees and the olives. They never bring me so much as an
orange flower. Then my head goes wrong, thou seest, when this longing
cometh on me; and then--. And sometimes I feel sick, and cannot eat.
Then they make me eat with the _cuerda_. I wish Jesus would make haste
and help me. I used to understand it all better before I had the
_cuerda_. But I had my husband then, and my children around me. Not
one of them ever comes now; and there are six [Note 3]. My husband is
dead--I think he is; they say so [Note 4]. I think they might have let
one of them come, if only just to say "Mother" to me. I cannot
understand it now; and it seems so long--so long! _Ay de mi_! if Jesus
would come!'
"I could not utter another word ere Rosada brake in. `Ines!' she cried
in a loud whisper; `what do you here? Know you not, _amiga_, that the
Lord Marquis will well-nigh kill you if he find you in this chamber?
None of her Highness' women are ever allowed to enter at will. Back,
back, as fast as you can go!'
"Then, kneeling a moment, she said hastily, `_Criada umilisima de Su
Alteza_!' [`The most humble servant of her Highness.'] and arising,
pushed me forth of the chamber, and into mine own, almost before I knew
what she had said or done. Five minutes later, my Lord of Denia his
steps sounded in the corridor. `Thank the holy Virgin and all the
saints!' cried Rosada under her breath. `_Amiga_, you know not that
man. He would not hesitate one minute to stab you if he found you
there, and fancied any cause of suspicion against you. 'Tis forbidden
ground--Maria _sin pecado_ [without sin]! How came you in such peril?
I knew her never before left alone even a moment.'--`I did but hear her
Highness moaning,' I said bewilderedly, `and was moved to go to
her.'--`The Devil must have moved you!' she saith breathlessly. `I
think rather,' I answered, `saving your presence, Rosada, and not
intending you, it was the Devil pushed me forth hither.'--`You mean my
Lord Marquis?' quoth she, taking me rightly. `The saints pardon her
Highness! You know she is quite out of her mind. She saith all manner
of evil of him.'
"I thought it better, perchance, to make no answer. But into my mind
came a remembrance touching a way wherein the fools should not err; and
I thought she should maybe come in at the gates of Heaven afore either
Rosada or I.
"O Isoult! I would I were forth of this horrible country! It is
peopled with devils. Leonor is not one, methinks; nor assuredly is
Rosada, neither this my poor sely maiden Maria; but I should find it
hard to write a fourth within this palace.
"I may not make my letter much longer. Prithee tell me some news of
England, if any be; and shouldst thou hear ought of my gracious mistress
[the Duchess of Suffolk], I would like much to know it.
"I do well-nigh wish I had not gone into that chamber! and yet, if I
have in any wise comforted her, it is well. It hath maybe done her some
little good to pour forth her sorrows to me for a minute. But now I
never awake of a night but I listen for those fearful screams. I thank
God, I have not heard them again as yet. Methinks her gossips did
blunder in naming her Juana; they should have called her Dolores
[sorrows].
"I pray thee, make mine hearty commendations to Mr Avery and all other
that I know; and kiss thy little Kate for me. And so I commend thee to
the tuition of God. From Tordesillas, this fourteenth of August.--Thine
own assuredly,--
"Annis Holland."
When we look back over the way which the Lord has led us these forty
years in the wilderness, we sometimes find in retrospect the Marahs no
sadder than the Elims. Nay, there are times when the Elims are the
sadder.
"A sorrow's crown of sorrow
Is, remembering happier things."
There was much sorrow of that class for the Gospellers at this time.
Ease and liberty had gone already: they were followed by the cruel agony
of parting. Within fourteen days of the 25th of February, every married
priest in the diocese of London was commanded to be deprived and
divorced. The first would have been a sufficiently bitter draught,
without the added desolation of the second. On the table before Isoult
Avery lay a sheet of paper, containing a few lines of uneven writing.
They were blotted with tears, and were signed "Marguerite Rose." Their
purport was to ask for shelter at the Lamb, for a few weeks, until she
could see her way more clearly. Thekla herself brought her mother's
letter. There were no tears from her, only her face was white, and
worn, and weary.
"And you have not wept, Thekla?" said Isoult.
"There are tears enough elsewhere," she said, and shook her head. "I
cannot weep. It would ease me, perhaps, if I could."
"These fiends of men!" cried Dr Thorpe, who was not renowned for
weighing his words carefully when he was indignant. "Is it because they
cannot drive nor persuade us into the sin and unbelief of Hell, that
they be determined we shall lose none of the torment of it, so far as
lieth in their hand to give us? Shall God see all this, and not move?
Have they banished Him out of the realm, with other strangers?"
"Bitter words, Dr Thorpe!" answered Robin, softly. "`Shall God cast
away His people, whom He foreknew?' From them that are lights in the
world, shall He who is the Light of the World depart? Nay, `when we
pass through the waters He will be with us.'"
"They are dark waters for some of us," whispered Thekla under her voice.
"But not fathomless, dear Thekla," replied Robin. "There are footsteps
before us, though we may not see them; and at the dreariest, there is
God above us."
"I hope so," responded Dr Thorpe. "I am afeard, Robin, thou shalt say I
am an unbeliever and a fool; but it doth look mainly as if He had fallen
asleep, and the Devil had stole the reins of the world out of His
hands."
"Not an unbeliever," said Robin, in his gentle manner; "only a believer
in the dark. `Lord, carest Thou not that we perish?' They were not
unbelievers that said that. But you well know the answer--`How is it
that ye have no faith?'"
"'Tis main hard to get hold of it, lad!" said Dr Thorpe, more quietly,
but with some choking in his voice.
"'Tis harder to do without it," answered Robin.
Dr Thorpe never twitted Robin with his youth now. On the contrary, he
seemed to respect him, as one who with few years had amassed much
wisdom.
There was only one unpleasant element in the grant of a refuge to Mrs
Rose. It would lock the doors of the Lamb on the beloved pastor. Where
she was, he must come no more. The chief element of comfort was Thekla.
She could have free access to both her parents, so long as they
remained at liberty; and Mr Rose might yet be heard to preach in the
houses of other Gospellers.
"Isoult," said Dr Thorpe, coming in, a few days after this woeful letter
had been received and answered, "for all the late 'headings, there be
fools left in the realm."
"Troth," said she, laughing, "I never cast doubt else."
"Why," pursued he, "if they hang up all the wise men, what else shall be
left? But list the marvellous news. Yesterday, a parcel of lads did
gather in a field by Saint James, for to have a game of childre's play."
"Is that such news?" said John.
"Hold thy peace till I have made an end," said Dr Thorpe. "These
childre in their playing (as childre will) did elect to follow their
fathers in their late diversion; and one half of them should be the
Queen's men, and the other half Wyatt's men. And so rough was their
play, that the lad which stood for the Prince of Spain was caught of
Wyatt's side, and half strangled of them. But in the midst thereof, ere
he were full hanged, come the watch, and took all the young rebels into
custody, as well the one side as the other."
"I take it they boxed their ears and let them go," said John.
"Do you so?" answered Dr Thorpe. "Not by no manner of means, worthy
Sir; but this day are the great and mighty rebels on their trial afore
the Queen's Council, and the statesmen of this realm do sit in sad
debate what shall be done with them. I had counted that the lad which
was half hanged should have been enough punished for his state crimes;
but maybe they think not so, but shall hang him out. But saw you a copy
of the Queen's Majesty's ordinances?"
"Nay," replied John. "What be they?"
"It were well to know them," he answered. "These be they:--
"First, all the statutes of King Henry touching religion shall be put in
force. No Sacramentary shall be admitted to any benefice; all married
priests shall be deprived, but more lenity shall be shown to them whose
wives be dead (to wit, I take it, they shall not be divorced from their
dead wives). If they shall part by consent, and shall promise to commit
the crime of matrimony no further, they may be admitted again, at
discretion of the Bishop, but in no case to the same benefice. No
religious man shall be suffered to wed. Processions, Latin service,
holy days, fasts, and all laudable and honest ceremonies, shall be
observed. Homilies shall be set forth. Men shall go to their parish
church only. Suspected schoolmasters shall be put forth, and Catholic
men put instead. And lastly, touching such persons as were heretofore
promoted to any orders, after the new fashion (hark to this, Robin!)
considering they were not ordained in very deed, the Bishop of the
diocese, finding otherwise sufficiency and ability in these men, may
supply that thing which wanted in them before, and thus according to his
discretion permit them to minister."
"Now here is a knot to untie: how say you concerning the divorce of such
men, _not_ again ordained of the Bishops? If they be not priests, then
they need not to be divorced: or, if they be divorced, then are they
priests."
"Friend," said John, "there is no better man in this world than Dr
Gardiner for getting round a corner; and where he may not come round the
corner, he hath Alisaunder's sword, to cut the knot with no more ado."
The blow fell at last, and the home in Leadenhall Street was broken up.
Mr Rose himself brought his wife and daughter to the Lamb on the evening
of the 10th of March, which was the last allowed for all married priests
to separate from their wives. Doubtless the parting was very painful;
but it passed in private, and the Averys too much reverenced his sorrow
to suffer him to depart otherwise than in silence. Only John walked
with him to his desolate home, and he told Isoult that not a word was
spoken by either, but the clasp of Mr Rose's hand at parting was not to
be lightly forgotten.
The lads who had mimicked the rebellion were whipped and imprisoned for
three days, and then released, by the Queen's own command. On the 12th
of March, the Archbishop, Dr Ridley, and Mr Latimer, set out for Oxford,
where they were--ostensibly, to maintain their theories in a public
disputation; really, to be martyred. Dr Hooper went part of the way
with them. He was going to Gloucester--to the same end. For a week,
Thekla flitted backwards and forwards between her parents; generally
spending her mornings with her father, and the evenings with her mother.
Robin constituted himself her guard in all her journeyings.
Sunday was the day after his bereavement, and Mr Rose was silent; but
the following Sunday he preached at Mr Holland's house, where the
Gospellers gathered to hear him. Thekla remained with her mother; she
would not leave her alone with her sorrowful thoughts. It was a rainy
morning, but in the days before umbrellas were invented, rain was less
thought of than it has been since. John Avery and his wife, Dr Thorpe,
Esther, and Robin, set forth, despite the rain. Before they had gone
many yards, they overtook a crowd of people, all running riverwards; and
Isoult, looking towards the water, fancied that she could see the
standard of the royal barge.
"Whither away?" asked John of some of the crowd.
But no answer was vouchsafed, except a cry of "The Tower!" till suddenly
Mr Underhill hove in sight, and was questioned at once.
"What, know you not what all London knoweth?" said he; "that the Lady
Elizabeth's Grace is this morrow a prisoner of the Tower? 'Tis very
true, I warrant you: would it were less! This moment is the Queen's
barge at hand with her. Will you see?"
"Have with you," said Dr Thorpe, who never missed a sight, if he could
possibly help it.
The rest went on. Mr Rose looked older, they thought, and more worn
than was his wont; but his voice was as gentle and his smile as sweet as
ever. He came to them as soon as they came in, and wanted to know all
they could tell him of Mrs Rose and Thekla, though his eyes asked rather
than his lips; yet his first words were a query why Thekla was not with
them. His sermon was on three words of David, "He shall live." And
first he showed that David spoke this of Christ, by prophecy: and then
divided his subject into three heads--"He hath lived," "He doth live,"
"He shall live." And under the first head, he pointed out how from all
eternity Christ had lived with the Father, and was His delight,
rejoicing alway before Him; and how then He had lived a little babe and
a weary man upon this earth defiled with sin, amidst a people who knew
Him not, and would not receive Him. Then coming to the next part, "He
doth live," he showed what he now does, standing before the throne of
God, within the true veil and beside the better mercy-seat, presenting
in Himself every one of His people, and pleading every moment for them.
And lastly, "He shall live." He shall come again; He shall reign over
the earth; He shall live for ever. And "because He liveth, we shall
live also." If He could die again, then might we. But He dieth no
more, having died once for us; and we that believe in Him, He having
died in our stead, can never die the second death. He hath abolished
death, as well for His Church as for Himself: He that is the Living One
for evermore holdeth the keys of Hell and of death. And for this cause,
even the natural death, not one can suffer except by His permission. Mr
Rose bade his hearers not to fall into the blunder that evil men held
their lives in their hands. "Christ hath the keys, not they. If they
be suffered to take our lives away, it is because we have ended our
work, and He calleth us home to Him. And what child ever went home from
school that went not gladly, except indeed he had an ill home? Let us
not bring up an evil report of that good Land, by unwillingness to go
Home." Coming back, they found Dr Thorpe returned, and talking with
Thekla.
"She is the manliest woman ever I saw in all my life!" cried he.
Thekla made no answer, except a smile; but it disappeared as soon as she
saw her friends, and coming forward, she began to talk in a low tone
with Robin.
"There is small praise for somebody," said John. "Who is it--my Lady
Elizabeth's Grace?"
"Even so," replied Dr Thorpe.
"Well, and how went the matter?" said he.
"Why," he answered, "they took her in at the drawbridge by the Traitor's
Gate. And, the barge arrived there, my Lord Treasurer sent my Lord of
Sussex to desire her Grace to land. `Nay, that will I not,' quo' she.
Nor could she, in very deed, unless she had gone into the water over her
shoe. My Lord of Sussex then went back from her to my Lord Treasurer,
and brought word that she would not come. Then said my Lord Treasurer
roughly, `She shall not choose.' And all this while sat she in the
rain. So my Lord Treasurer stepped forward and did proffer his cloak
for her to tread on. Then up rose my Lady Elizabeth, and put back my
Lord Treasurer's cloak with her hand, with a good dash. And setting her
foot upon the stair, she saith stoutly, `Here landeth the truest
subject, being a prisoner, that ever landed at these stairs.' To whom
my Lord Treasurer--`So much the better for you, Madam.' So in went she,
as manly as ever did man; and Sir John Gage shut up the gates upon her.
She hath the stoutest stomach ever I saw. If all the men were hanged
through England, there should be yet one left in her."
On Good Friday the Marquis of Northampton was released from the Tower.
Dr Thorpe said, the Queen "played at see-saw with my Lord of
Northampton, for he is in the Tower this day and out the next, and so
over again." In the afternoon of Easter Sunday, Esther and Mrs Rose
went out together. When they returned, Mrs Rose went up quickly to her
own chamber; and Esther drew her mistress aside.
"Why, Esther, what is the matter?" said Isoult.
"Methinks I had better tell you," replied she. "I would I could have
helped it; yet the Blessed saw not good. As we came back through
Poules, there was set up on a board a long list of all the priests in
this diocese which have been divorced from their wives by decree of my
Lord of London; and them that had parted by consent were set by
themselves. And in this list--"
"Good lack!" cried Isoult. "Saw you Mr Rose's name?"
"_She_ saw it," said Esther in a low voice, "though I did essay to turn
her away therefrom by bidding her to observe the fair carving on the
other side the way; but it was to no good. She caught the two
names--`Thomas Rose' and `Margaret Van der Velde.' And she brake forth
when she saw them. I thank the All Merciful we two were alone in the
cloister."
"But what said she?"
"`Margaret Van der Velde!' she cried. `I am _not_ Margaret Van der
Velde! I am Marguerite Rose. I have borne his name for two and twenty
years, and shall I cast it off now at the Bishop of London's bidding?
No, not if he were the Pope and the whole College of Cardinals!' Then
she fell into French and Spanish mixed together. And `Parted by
consent!' quoth she. `_Ay Dios! que veut-on dire_? what consent is
there? They thrust us asunder with halberds, and then say we have
parted by consent! God! art Thou in Heaven, and dost Thou see all
this?' she cried."
"Poor soul! And what saidst thou, Esther?"
"I said little, only essayed to draw her away and to comfort her. It is
hard work to bear such things, I know. But I think we be too apt to
seek to be our King's kings--to bring down the Holy One that inhabiteth
eternity to the measure of our poor knowledge. 'Tis not alway when _we_
think Israel at the lowest that Othniel is raised up to judge us. He
will come at the right time, and in time to save us; but very often that
is not the time we would choose."
Poor Mrs Rose! Isoult could scarcely wonder at her words of
indignation. But she had not seen nor borne the worst yet.
"Isoult!" said Dr Thorpe, coming in on the 8th of April, "there is a
jolly sight in the Chepe. I take it, a piece of some Lutheran's or
Gospeller's work, whose wit and zeal be on the thither side of his
discretion. On the gallows in Cheapside is a cat hanged, arrayed in
vestments, all proper, her head shaven, and her forefeet tied over her
head with a round of paper betwixt them for a wafer. What say you to
that for a new thing?"
"Poor cat!" said Robin; yet he laughed.
"Nay, I know not that they killed the cat o' purpose," said Dr Thorpe.
"They may have taken a dead one."
"But what say the folk thereto?" asked Isoult.
"Some laugh," he answered, "and some rail, and some look mighty solemn.
Underhill was jolly pleased therewith; it served his turn rightly. I
met him on my way home, and he asked me first thing if I had seen Sir
Cat."
"I warrant you," said John, "'tis a piece of his work, or else of George
Ferris. Mind you not how he told us the tale of his [Underhill]
stealing the copper pix from the altar at Stratford on the Bow? I will
be bound one of those merry twain hath done it."
"Little unlike," said Dr Thorpe.
Proclamation was made of a reward of twenty nobles, increased afterward
to twenty marks, to find the irreverent hanger up of the cat, but in
vain. It was never discovered who did it. On Cantate Sunday--April
22--Mr Rose preached at Mr Sheerson's house in Bow Churchyard. John and
Isoult were there, with Esther, Thekla, and Robin. After service (for
they were late, and it was beginning when they entered), Mr Rose came to
them, and, after a few minutes' conversation, asked if they had heard
the news from Oxford.
"Nay," said John, "is there so?"
"The sorest we might well have," he answered. "My Lord Archbishop, Dr
Ridley, and Mr Latimer, be all three cast for death."
Such a cry broke from Isoult, that some turned to look at her, and Mrs
Holland came up and asked if she was ill, or what was the matter.
"Are you assured thereof?" asked John.
"With little question," answered he, "seeing Augustine Bernher came unto
me with the news, and is lodged with me: who was himself present at the
sentencing and all the whole disputation."
"If Austin brought it, it is true," said John, sorrowfully.
"But they will never burn Mr Latimer," cried Isoult in anguish. "An
aged man such as he is, that must die in a few years at the furthest!"
"And my Lord Archbishop, that is chiefest subject of the whole realm!"
said John.
"There is an other before him now," answered Mr Rose. "The chiefest
subject of the realm is Cardinal Pole, that is looked for nigh every
week."
Austin Bernher, who had been talking with Mr Holland, now came up, and
John begged him to tell them particulars of the trial.
"It was a right morris-dance," said he, "all the examination. Mr
Prolocutor Weston disputed with the beer-pot at his elbow, and forgot
not his devoirs thereto in the course thereof. And (whether the said
pot were in fault, I will not say, but) at opening he made a sorry
blunder, for he said that the Court was called `to dispute the
detestable heresy of the verity of the body of Christ in the Sacrament.'
There was much laughter in the Court thereupon. It was in the choir of
Saint Mary the Virgin they held Court, and my Lord Archbishop was first
examined. He denied all propositions advanced unto him, and spake very
modestly, wittily [cleverly], and learnedly. So at the end of the day
he was sent back to Bocardo, where they held him confined. Then the
next day they had in Dr Ridley, who showed sharp, witty, and very
earnest; and denied that (being Bishop of Rochester) he had ever
preached in favour of transubstantiation. At _one_ point, the people
hissing at an answer he had given, Dr Ridley turned him around unto
them, and--`O my masters!' saith he, `I take this for no judgment. I
will stand to God's judgment.' The day thereafter called they up my
master [Latimer]; who, on his entering, escaped no hissings nor scornful
laughter. He came in from the bailiff's house, where he was lodged,
having a kerchief and three or four caps on his head for the fear of
cold, his staff in his hand, and his spectacles hanging at his breast by
a string [Note 5]. He earnestly desired to be allowed a seat, and also
to speak in English; for (quoth he) `I am out of use with the Latin, and
almost as meet to dispute as to be a captain of Calais.' Moreover, he
said his memory was weakened, and he very faint. Then they asked him if
he would allow the verity of the body of Christ to be in the Sacrament.
Quoth he, `I have read over the New Testament seven times, and yet could
I never find the mass in it, neither the marrow-bones nor sinews of the
same.' You know his merry fashion. Then they asked him how long he had
been of that opinion; and he said he had not been so long; that time had
been when he said mass devoutly, for the which he craved God's mercy
now; and he had not been of this mind above seven years. Then they
charged him that he was a Lutheran. `Nay,' said he, `I was a Papist;
for I never could perceive how Luther could defend his opinion, without
transubstantiation.' And they desired he should reason touching
Luther's opinion. `I do not take in hand to defend Luther's sayings or
doings,' quoth my master. `If he were here, he would defend himself
well enough.' And so went they forward, my master answering readily,
but calmly: yet he warmed up high enough once, when one spake of the
priest offering of Christ. Quoth he, with some of the ancient fire that
was wont to be in him, `He is too precious a thing for us to offer; He
offereth Himself.' Well, after his examination was over (and they took
two days to it) Master Harpsfield disputed with my Lord Archbishop for
his doctor's gown. And the day thereafter (which was Friday) were they
all three brought forth to be judged. Then were Dr Ridley and my master
asked if they would turn; but they both answered, `Nay; I will stand to
that I have said.' So then sentence of burning was passed upon all of
them for heresy. Then said my Lord Archbishop,--`From your judgment and
sentence I appeal to the just judgment of God Almighty; trusting to be
present with Him in Heaven, for whose presence in the altar I am thus
condemned.' Dr Ridley's answer was--`Although I be not of your company,
yet doubt I not but my name is written in an other place, whither this
sentence shall send us sooner than we should by the course of nature
have come.' And quoth my master--`I thank God most heartily that He
hath prolonged my life to this end, that I may in this case glorify God
by this kind of death.' So they carried them away, each to his old
lodging. And yester-morn, but an hour before I set out, there was mass,
and procession down the High Street to Saint Mary's. They caused my
Lord to behold it from Bocardo, and Dr Ridley from the Sheriff's house;
but not going by the bailiff's house, they fetched my master to see it.
Who thought he was going to his burning, and saith unto the catchpole,
`My master, I pray you, make a quick fire.' But when he came to Carfax,
lo, there came the procession in sight, Dr Weston carrying the host, and
four other doctors supporting the canopy over him and his bread-god.
Which no sooner had my master seen than he gathered up his heels, and
away he ran, as fast as ever his old bones could carry him, into one
Spencer's shop, and would not so much as look toward it. And
incontinent after that came I thence; so that I cannot tell any more."
From May to July there was a respite in some respects. Were they
waiting for Philip?
The Princess Elizabeth was released from the Tower, and sent to
Richmond; Mr Bertie, summoned before Gardiner in Lent, took advantage of
the temporary cessation of the persecution in the summer, and escaped to
Germany. The gallows set up for Wyatt's followers were taken down; the
cross in Cheapside was regilded; and bonfires, bell-ringing, and _Te
Deums_, were commanded throughout London, as soon as the news of
Philip's landing should be received.
"I marvel," observed Mr Rose, one Sunday, "if we should not do better to
sing _Miserere mei, Deus_."
Philip came at last--too soon at any time--landing at Hampton on the
20th of July. He and the Queen were married in the Lady Chapel of
Winchester Cathedral on the 25th, Mr Underhill being present, and
receiving a venison pasty as his share of the spoil; and on the 19th of
August, London went forth to welcome its new King. Dr Thorpe, of
course, put on clean ruffles and trudged off to see the sight; so did
John and Robin, though they contented themselves with strolling down to
the riverside to watch the barge pass. Isoult declined, as she said,
"to go see one of whom she feared so much." John asked Mrs Rose and
Thekla if they wished to go.
"What! to see the Prince of the Asturias?" [Note 6] cried Mrs Rose.
"Think you we have seen too little of him in Flanders? I would as soon
to see Satan."
Thekla smiled and shook her head; and that was her answer. So when the
three returned, they were desired to say, "what like were the King."
"Not so high as Kate, nor any thing like so well favoured," growled Dr
Thorpe.
"Softly! softly!" said John, smiling.
"Call him a king!" said Dr Thorpe, who appeared somewhat put out. "On
my word, I have seen many a mason and carpenter a deal fairer men, and
vastly taller fellows of their hands. He should be 'shamed to be a
king, and so slender and pitiful a fellow."
Isoult could not help laughing, and so did Thekla.
"Now give us thine opinion, Jack," said his wife.
"Well," replied he, "methinks his Highness is somewhat taller than Kate;
but truly he is under the common height of men. His limbs be well made
and lithe, and his person of fair proportions. His hair is somewhat too
deep to call it yellow, yet fair; his eyes grey, with a weak look
thereabout, as though he might not bear overmuch light; his brow not
ill-made for wit, yet drawing backward; his lips large, very red, and
thick like all of his house [Note 7]. He hath a fair beard and
mustachio, and his complexion is fair, yet not clear, but rather of a
Cain-colour." [Note 8].
"Ah, the lip of the House of Austria--how well I know it! It maketh me
to shudder to hear you," said Mrs Rose. "Yet if his complexion be
Cain-colour, he is changed from what he was. In his young years was it
very fair and clear,--as fair as Walter."
"He is mighty unlike Walter now," said Dr Thorpe.
"And what is thy view, Robin?"
"I have not to add to what Father hath said," replied he, "saving that I
thought there was a gloomy and careworn look upon the King's face. He
is stately and majestical of his carriage; but his nether part of his
face cometh forward in a fashion rather strong than seemly. It struck
me he should be a man not easily turned from his purpose."
Mr Underhill presented himself in the evening.
"Well," said he, "saw you our goodly King Philip?"
"Nay," said Dr Thorpe, "I saw a mighty ill-favoured."
Mr Underhill laughed. "Verily," said he, "I would be bond that I could
match him for beauty with any the first man I should meet withal in the
City. There were two swords carried afore him--"
"Ay," said Dr Thorpe, "to cut off all heads withal that be left yet
unmown."
"I fear so much," answered Mr Underhill, more gravely than was his wont.
"Were you forth this even?"
"No," said John; "we have all sat at home sithence my home-coming."
"In the streets to-night," said he, "I count I have met four Spaniards
for every Englishman. If the King bring all Spain over hither, we shall
be sweetly off. As I was coming hither, I protest unto you, I heard
more Spanish talked than mine own tongue. I trust some of you have that
tongue, or you shall find you in a foreign country--yea, even in the
heart of London."
"I have it," said John, "and so hath Mrs Rose; but methinks we stand
alone."
"No, Mr Avery, you do not so," quietly said Esther. [Note 9].
"Marry, I never learned any tongue save mine own, nor never repented
thereof," answered Dr Thorpe; "saving, of course, so much Latin as a
physician must needs pick up withal. I count I could bray like a
jackass an' I tried, and that were good enough for any strange-born
companion as ever cumbered the soil of merry England."
Mr Underhill laughed, as did John and Robin.
"Dr Thorpe, you are exceedingly courteous, and I thank you heartily,"
said Mrs Rose, smiling almost for the first time.
"Body o' me! what is a man to do when he falleth into the ditch o' this
manner?" said he, with a comical look. "Mrs Rose, I am an ass by
nature, and shall find little hardship in braying. I do beseech you of
pardon, for that I meant not to offend you; and in very deed, I scarce
ever do remember that you are not my countrywoman. You are good enough
for an English woman, and I would you were--There! I am about to make
yet again a fool of myself. Heed not, I pray you, an old man in his
dotage."
"My good friend, say not one other word," answered Mrs Rose, kindly. "I
do feel most delighted that you should say I am good enough for an
English woman. I can see that is very much from you."
Spaniards were everywhere. England had become a nation of Spaniards in
her streets, as she was a province of Spain in her government. And
Englishmen knew that Spain, like Rome, whose true daughter she was,
never unloosed her hand from any thing she had once grasped. Isoult
begged her husband to teach her Spanish; but Kate desired to know why
they were all come.
"Is there no meat ne drink in their country, that they come to eat up
ours?" she asked in her simplicity.
Her mother told her "they were come to wait on the King, which was a
gentleman of their nation."
"But wherefore so?" said she. "Could the Queen not marry an Englishman,
that could have talked English? I am sure our Robin is good enough for
any Queen that ever carried a crown on her head."
A view of the subject which so greatly tickled Robin that he could not
speak for laughing. He was, and always had been, very fond of Kate, and
she of him.
A fresh rumour now ran that five thousand more Spaniards would shortly
be brought over; and some of them preferred to the vacated benefices and
sees.
On the 30th of September, Gardiner preached at the Cross, the Bishop of
London bearing his crosier before him. All the Council _were_ present
who were then at Court. He spoke much of charity, which is commonly
lauded by false teachers; and said that "great heresy had heretofore
been preachen at that place, by preachers in King Edward's time, which
did preach no thing but voluptuousness and blasphemous lies." Then he
touched upon the Pharisees, who stood, said he, "for such men as will
reason and dispute in the stead of obeying." And lastly, he spoke of
the King; praised his dominion and riches, and "willed all so obediently
to order them that he might still tarry with them."
"Well!" said Dr Thorpe, "I count I shall not need to order me for so
long time as King Philip is like to tarry with us: but afore I do go on
my marrow-bones to beg him tarry, I would fain know somewhat more of
what he is like to do for us."
Our friends at the Lamb were fearfully employed on the 5th of October.
For during the previous fortnight there had been so severe a search for
Lutheran books, and nearly sixty persons arrested who were found to
possess them, that John determined to hide all his in a secret place:
one that, he said, "with God's grace these bloodhounds shall not lightly
find, yet easy of access unto them that do know the way." So he buried
all the books at which offence could be taken, leaving only his own
law-books, and Isoult's "Romaunts" that she had when a girl, and Dr
Thorpe's "Game of the Chess," and Robin's "Song of the Lady Bessy," and
the "Little Gest of Robin Hood," and similar works.
In the evening came Mr Underhill, whom they told what had been their
occupation.
"Why," said he, "but yesterday was I at the very same business. I sent
for old Henry Daunce, the bricklayer of White Chapel (who used to preach
the gospel in his garden every holiday, where I have seen a thousand
persons), and got him to enclose my books in a brick wall by the chimney
side in my chamber, where they shall be preserved from moulding or mice.
Mine old enemies, the Papistical spies, John a Vales and Beard, have
been threatening me; but I sent them a message by means of Master Luke,
the physician of Coleman Street, to let them know that if they did
attempt to take me, except they had a warrant signed with four or five
of the Council's hands, I would go further with them than Peter did, who
strake off but the ear of Malchus, but I would surely strike off head
and all."
After which message Mr John Vales and Mr Beard never meddled further
with the Hot Gospeller, doubtless knowing they might trust him to keep
his word, and having no desire to risk their necks.
On the 3rd of November [see note in Appendix] was born Mr Underhill's
son Edward, at his house in Wood Street. This being no time to search
for sponsors of rank, John Avery stood for the child, at the father's
request, with Mr Ive, and Mrs Elizabeth Lydiatt, Mr Underhill's sister,
who was staying with him at that time. And only a week later they were
all at another christening, of Mr Holland's child, baptised by Mr Rose;
and the sponsors were Lord Strange, his kinsman (by deputy), Mr
Underhill, and Thekla; the child was named after Lord Strange, Henry.
[The sex and name of Roger Holland's child are not recorded.] The
_all_, however, did not include Mrs Rose; for she knew too well, poor
soul! the dread penalty that would ensue if her husband "were taken in
her company."
The year ended better than the Gospellers feared. No harm had come to
the Archbishop and his brother prisoners. Mr Underhill and Mr Rose were
still at liberty. Cardinal Pole had returned to the fatherland whence
he had been banished for many years; but from him they hardly looked for
evil. The Princess Elizabeth was restored to favour. Roger Holland had
left London for his own home in Lancashire, to prevent his child from
being re-baptised after the Roman fashion. He meant to leave it with
his father, and return himself to London. In the Gospellers' houses, Mr
Rose was still preaching: he was to administer the Sacrament on the
night of New Year's Day, at Mr Sheerson's house in Bow Churchyard. And
Philip had been King five months. Surely, the cloud had a silver
lining! surely, they had feared more than there was need! So argued the
more sanguine of the party. But it was only the dusk which hid the
black clouds that had gathered; only the roar of men's work which
drowned the growl of the imminent storm. They were entering--though
they knew it not--on the darkest hour of the night.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1.
"Brief life is here our portion,
Brief sorrow, short-lived care;
The life that knows no ending,
The tearless life is There."
Neale's _Translation_.
Note 2. Boni-Homines--translated into various languages,--was the
ancient title of the Waldensian Church and its offshoots.
Note 3. The best of them, and the only Lutheran--Isabel Queen of
Denmark--died in 1525; but of course the imprisoned mother never knew
it.
Note 4. The letters yet extant in the archives of Simancas, from Denia
and others, give rise to strong suspicion that the story which the world
has believed so long--Juana's insane determination not to bury the
coffin of her husband--was a pure invention of their own, intended to
produce (as it has produced) a general belief in the insanity of the
Queen.
Note 5. This sketch in words, given by Foxe, is one of the most graphic
descriptions ever written.
Note 6. King Juan the Second of Castilla conferred this title on his
heir in 1389, in imitation of that of the Prince of Wales, which he
greatly admired.
Note 7. This well-known feature came into the House of Austria with the
Massovian Princess Cimburgha, a strong-minded woman, who used to hammer
the nails which confined her fruit-trees to the garden wall with her
knuckles. She was the wife of Duke Ernest the Iron-handed, and
apparently might have shared his epithet.
Note 8. In working the tapestry so much in vogue during the Middle
Ages, certain persons were indicated by hair or complexion of a
particular tint. To Cain was given a sallow complexion, not unlike
Naples yellow, which was therefore known as Cain-colour; and Judas
Iscariot being always represented with red hair, this came to be called
Judas-colour.
Note 9. The English Jews, being Sephardim, spoke Spanish mostly among
themselves at this time.