"Truly, there is no end of the diverse fantasy of men's minds." And
then he brought forth some _Latin_, which I conceived not: but
whispering unto Aunt _Joyce_ (which is something learned in that tongue)
to say what it were, she made answer, "So many men, so many minds."
[_Quot homines, tot sententiae_.]
"Ha!" saith _Mynheer_. "Was it not that which the Emperor _Charles_ did
discover with his clocks and watches? He was very curious in clocks and
watches--the Emperor _Charles_ the Fifth--you know?--and in his chamber
at the Monastery of _San Yuste_ he had so many. And watching them each
day, he found they went not all at one. The big clock was five minutes
to twelve when the little watch was two minutes past. So he tried to
make them at one: but they would not. No, no! the big clock and the
little watch, they go their own way. Then said the Emperor, `Now I see
something I saw not aforetime. I thought I could make these clocks go
together, but no! Yet they are only the work of men like me. Ah, the
foolish man to think that I could compel men to think all alike, who are
the work of the great God.' You see?"
"If His Majesty had seen it a bit sooner," quoth _Hal_, "there should
have been spared some ill work both in _Spain_ and the Low Countries."
_Mynheer_ saith, "Ah!" more than once, and wagged his head right sadly.
"Why," quoth _Hal_, something earnestly, "mind you not, some dozen years
gone, of the stir was made all over this realm, when the ministers were
appointed to wear their surplices at all times of their ministration,
and no longer to minister in gowns ne cloaks, with their hats on, as
they had been wont? Yea, what tumult had we then against the order
taken by the Queen and Council, and against the Archbishop and Bishops
for consenting thereto! And, all said, what was the mighty ado about?
Why, whether a man should wear a black gown or a white. Heard one ever
such stuff?"
"Ah, _Hal_, that shall scantly serve," saith _Father_. "Mind, I pray
thee, that the question to the eyes of these men was somewhat far
otherwise. Thou wouldst not say that _Adam_ and _Eva_ were turned forth
of _Paradise_ by reason they plucked an apple?"
"But, I pray you, Sir _Aubrey_, what was the question?" saith _Mynheer_.
"For I do not well know, as I fain should."
"Look you," quoth _Father_, "in the beginning of the Book of Common
Prayer, and you shall find a rubric, that `such ornaments of the church
and of the ministers thereof, at all times of their ministration, shall
be retained and be in use, as were in this Church of _England_, by the
authority of Parliament, in the second year of King _Edward_ the
Sixth.'"
"But they were not retained," breaks in _Hal_, that will alway be first
to speak of aught.
(Lack-a-day! shall that cost me two pence?)
"They were not retained," repeateth _Father_, "but the clergy took to
ministering in their gowns and other common apparel, such as they ware
every day, with no manner of vestments of no sort. Whereupon, such
negligence being thought unseemly, it pleased the Queen's Majesty,
sitting in her Council, and with consent of the Archbishop and Bishops,
to issue certain injunctions for the better ordering of the Church: to
wit, that at all times of their ministration the clergy should wear a
decent white surplice, and no other vestment, nor should minister in
their common apparel as aforetime."
"Then the rubric touching the garments as worn under King _Edward_ was
done away?" saith _Mynheer_.
"Done away completely," quoth _Hal_, afore _Father_ could speak.
"But not by Parliament?" answers _Mynheer_.
"Good lack, what matter?" saith _Hal_. "The Queen's Majesty is supreme
in this Church of _England_. If she issue her injunctions through her
great Council, or her little Council, or her Bishops, they are all one,
so they be her true injunctions."
"These were issued through the Bishops," saith _Father_, "though
determined on in the Privy Council."
"Then did the ministers not obey?" asks _Mynheer_.
"Many did. But some counted the surplice a return towards Popery, and
utterly refused to wear it. I mind [remember] there was a burying at
that time at Saint _Giles'_ Church in _London_, without [outside]
_Cripplegate_, where were six clerks that ware the white surplice: and
Master _Crowley_, the Vicar, stood in the church door to withstand their
entering, saying that no such superstitious rags of _Rome_ should come
into his church. There should have been a bitter tumult there, had not
the clerks had the wit to give way and tarry withoutside the door. And
about the same time, a _Scots_ minister did preach in _London_ right
vehemently against the order taken for the apparel of ministers. Why,
at Saint _Mildred's_ in _Bread_ Street, where a minister that had
conformed was brought of the worshipful of that parish for the communion
service, he was so withstood by the minister of the church and his
adherents, that the Deputy of the Ward and other were fain to stand
beside him in the chancel to defend him during the service, or the
parson and his side should have plucked him down with violence. And at
long last," saith _Father_, laughing, "the _Scots_ minister that had so
inveighed against them was brought to conform; but no sooner did he show
himself in the pulpit of Saint _Margaret Pattens_ in a surplice, than
divers wives rose up and pulled him forth of the pulpit, tearing his
surplice and scratting his face right willingly."
"Eh, good lack!" cries _Mynheer_. "Your women, they keep silence in the
churches after such a manner?"
"There was not much silence that morrow, I warrant," quoth _Hal_,
laughing right merrily.
"Eh, my gentlemen, I pray you of pardon," saith Cousin _Bess_, looking
up earnestly from her flannel, "but had I been in yon church I'd have
done the like thing. I'd none have scrat his face, but I'd have rent a
good tear in that surplice."
"Thou didst not so, _Bess_, the last _Sunday_ morrow," quoth _Father_,
laughing as he turned to look at her.
"Nay, 'tis all done and settled by now," saith she. "I should but get
took up for brawling. But I warrant you, that flying white thing
sticketh sore in my throat, and ever did. An' I had my way, no parson
should minister but in his common coat."
"But that were unseemly and undecent, _Bess_," quoth Aunt _Joyce_.
"Nay, Mistress _Joyce_, but methinks 'tis a deal decenter," answers she.
"Wherefore, if a man can speak to me of earthly things in a black gown,
must he needs don a white when he cometh to speak to me of heavenly
things? There is no wit in such stuff."
"See you, _Mynheer_," saith _Father_, again laughing, "even here in
_Selwick_ Hall, where I trust we be little given to quarrel, yet the
clocks keep not all one time."
"Eh! No!" saith _Mynheer_, shrugging of his shoulders and smiling.
"The gentlewomen, they be very determined in their own opinions."
"Well, I own, I like to see things decent," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "I
desire not to have back the Popish albs and such like superstitious
gauds--not I: but I do like to see a parson in a clean white surplice,
and I would be right sorry were it laid aside."
Cousin _Bess_ said nought, but wagged her head, and tare her flannel in
twain.
"Now, I dare be bound, _Bess_, thou countest me gone half-way back to
_Rome_," saith Aunt _Joyce_.
"That were nigh the _Via Mala_," quoth _Father_.
"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, I'll judge no man, nor no woman," makes answer
Cousin _Bess_. "The Lord looketh on the heart; and 'tis well for us He
doth, for if we were judged by what other folk think of us, I reckon we
should none of us come so well off. But them white flying kites be rags
of _Popery_, that _will_ I say,--yea, and stand to."
"Which side be you, _Father_?" asks _Anstace_.
"Well, my lass," saith he, "though I see not, mine own self, the Pope
and all his Cardinals to lurk in the folds of Dr _Meade's_ white
surplice, and I am bound to say his tall, portly figure carrieth it off
rarely, yet I do right heartily respect _Bess_ her scruple, and desire
to abstain from that which she counteth the beginnings of _evil_."
"Now, I warrant you, _Bess_ shall reckon that, of carrying it off well,
to be the lust of the eye," saith Aunt _Joyce_. "She's a bit of a
_Mennonite_, is _Bess_."
"Eh, Mistress _Joyce_, pray you, give me not such an ill word!" saith
Cousin _Bess_, reproachfully. "I never cared for Mammon, not I. I'd be
thankful for a crust of bread and a cup of water, and say grace o'er him
with _Amen_."