"My Lord," says _Father_, "in my Time, the Custom in these Cases was
ever to ask the Prisoner before Sentence, whether he coulde give anie
Reason why Judgment shoulde not proceed agaynst him."
My Lord, in some Confusion, puts the Question.
And then came the frightful Sentence.
Yes, yes, my Soul, I know; there were Saints of old sawn asunder. Men
of whom the World was not worthy.
... Then he spake unto 'em his Mind; and bade his Judges and Accusers
farewell; hoping that like as St. _Paul_ was present and consenting
unto St. _Stephen's_ Death, and yet both were now holy Saints in
Heaven, so he and they might speedilie meet there, joint Heirs of
e'erlasting Salvation.
Meantime, poor _Bess_ and _Cecilie_, spent with Grief and long waiting,
were forct to be carried Home by _Heron_, or ever _Father_ returned to
his Prison. Was't less Feeling, or more Strength of Body, enabled me to
bide at the Tower Wharf with _Dancey_? GOD knoweth. They brought him
back by Water; my poor Sisters must have passed him.... The first Thing
I saw was the Axe, _turned with its Edge towards him_--my first Note of
his Sentence. I forct my Way through the Crowd ... some one laid a cold
Hand on mine Arm; 'twas poor _Patteson_, soe changed I scarce knew
him, with a Rosary of Gooseberries he kept running through his Fingers.
He sayth, "Bide your Time, Mistress _Meg_; when he comes past, I'll
make a Passage for ye; ... Oh, Brother, Brother! what ailed thee to
refuse the Oath? _I've_ taken it!" In another Moment, "Now, Mistress,
now!" and flinging his Arms right and left, made a Breach through which
I darted, fearlesse of Bills and Halberds, and did cast mine Arms about
_Father's_ Neck. He cries, "My _Meg_!" and hugs me to him as though our
very Souls shoulde grow together. He sayth, "Bless thee, bless thee!
Enough, enough, my Child; what mean ye, to weep and break mine Heart?
Remember, though I die innocent, 'tis not without the Will of GOD, who
coulde have turned mine Enemies' Hearts, if 'twere best; therefore
possess your Soul in Patience. Kiss them alle for me, thus and thus
..." soe gave me back into _Dancey's_ Arms, the Guards about him alle
weeping; but I coulde not thus lose Sight of him for ever; soe, after
a Minute's Pause, did make a second Rush, brake away from _Dancey_,
clave to _Father_ agayn, and agayn they had Pitie on me, and made Pause
while I hung upon his Neck. This Time there were large Drops standing
on his dear Brow; and the big Tears were swelling into his Eyes. He
whispered, "_Meg_, for _Christ's_ Sake don't unman me; thou'lt not deny
my last Request?" I sayd, "Oh! no;" and at once loosened mine Arms.
"God's Blessing be with you," he sayth with a last Kiss. I coulde not
help crying, "My _Father_, my _Father_!" "The Chariot of _Israel_, and
the Horsemen thereof!" he vehementlie whispers, pointing upwards
with soe passionate a Regard, that I look up, almost expecting a
beatific Vision; and when I turn about agayn, he's gone, and I have noe
more Sense nor Life till I find myself agayn in mine owne Chamber, my
Sisters chafing my Hands.
[Illustration: More returning from his Trial.]
_July 5th._
Alle's over now ... they've done theire worst, and yet I live. There
were Women coulde stande aneath the Cross. The _Maccabees'_ Mother--
... yes, my Soul, yes; I know--Nought but unpardoned Sin.... The
Chariot of _Israel_.
_6th._
Dr. _Clement_ hath beene with us. Sayth he went up as blythe as a
Bridegroom to be clothed upon with Immortality.
_Rupert_ stoode it alle out. Perfect Love casteth out Feare. Soe did
his.
_17th._
My most precious Treasure is this deare Billet, writ with a Coal; the
last Thing he sett his Hand to, wherein he sayth, "I never liked your
Manner towards me better than when you kissed me last."
_19th._
They have let us bury his poor mangled Trunk; but, as sure as there's a
Sun in Heaven, I'll have his Head!--before another Sun hath risen, too.
If wise Men won't speed me, I'll e'en content me with a Fool.
I doe think Men, for the most Part, be Cowards in theire Hearts ...
moral Cowards. Here and there, we find one like _Father_, and like
_Socrates_, and like ... this and that one, I mind not theire Names
just now; but in the Main, methinketh they lack the moral Courage of
Women. Maybe, I'm unjust to 'em just now, being crost.
_July 20th._
I lay down, but my Heart was waking. Soon after the first Cock crew,
I hearde a Pebble cast agaynst my Lattice, knew the Signall, rose,
dressed, stole softlie down and let myself out. I knew the Touch of the
poor Fool's Fingers; his Teeth were chattering, 'twixt Cold and Fear,
yet he laught aneath his Breath as he caught my Arm and dragged me
after him, whispering, "Fool and fayr Lady will cheat 'em yet." At the
Stairs lay a Wherry with a Couple of Boatmen, and one of 'em stepping
up to me, cries, "Alas for ruth, Mistress _Meg_, what is't ye do?
Art mad to go on this Errand?" I sayd, "I shall be mad if I goe not,
and succeed too--put me in, and push off."
[Illustration: Nor lookt I up till aneath the Bridge-gate]
We went down the River quietlie enow--at length reach _London Bridge_
Stairs. _Patteson_, starting up, says, "Bide ye all as ye are," and
springs aland and runneth up to the Bridge. Anon, returns, and sayth,
"Now, Mistress, alle's readie ... readier than ye wist ... come up
quickly, for the Coast's clear." _Hobson_ (for 'twas he) helps me
forth, saying, "GOD speed ye, Mistress.... An' I dared, I woulde goe
with ye." ... Thought I, there be others in that Case.
Nor lookt I up till aneath the Bridge-gate, when casting upward a
fearsome Look, I beheld the dark Outline of the ghastly yet precious
Relic; and, falling into a Tremour, did wring my Hands and exclaym,
"Alas, alas, that Head hath lain full manie a Time in my Lap, woulde
GOD, woulde GOD it lay there now!" When, o' suddain, I saw the Pole
tremble and sway towards me; and stretching forth my Apron, I did in
an Extasy of Gladness, Pity, and Horror, catch its Burthen as it fell.
_Patteson_, shuddering, yet grinning, cries under his Breath, "Managed
I not well, Mistress? Let's speed away with our Theft, for Fools and
their Treasures are soon parted; but I think not they'll follow hard
after us, neither, for there are Well-wishers to us on the Bridge.
I'll put ye into the Boat and then say, GOD speed ye, Lady, with your
Burthen."
_July 23rd._
_Rizpah_, Daughter of _Aiah_, did watch her Dead from the Beginning of
Harvest until the latter Rain, and suffered neither the Birds of the
Air to light on them by Day, nor the wild Beasts of the Field by Night.
And it was told the King, but he intermeddled not with her.
_Argia_ stole _Polynices'_ Body by Night and buried it, for the which,
she with her Life did willingly pay Forfeit. _Antigone_, for aiding
in the pious Theft, was adjudged to be buried alive. _Artemisia_ did
make herself her loved one's Shrine, by drinking his Ashes. Such is the
Love of Women; many Waters cannot quench it, neither can the Floods
drown it. I've hearde _Bonvisi_ tell of a poor _Italian_ Girl, whose
Brothers did slay her Lover; and in Spite of them she got his Heart,
and buried it in a Pot of Basil, which she watered Day and Night with
her Tears, just as I do my Coffer. _Will_ has promised it shall be
buried with me; layd upon my Heart; and since then, I've beene easier.
He thinks he shall write _Father's_ Life, when he gets more composed,
and we are settled in a new Home. We are to be cleared out o' this
in alle Haste; the King grutches at our lingering over _Father's_
Footsteps, and gazing on the dear familiar Scenes associate with his
Image; and yet, when the News of the bloody Deed was taken to him, as
he sate playing at Tables with Queen _Anne_, he started up and scowled
at her, saying, "Thou art the Cause of this Man's Death!" _Father_
might well say, during our last precious Meeting in the Tower, "'Tis I,
_Meg_, not the King, that love Women. They belie him; he onlie loves
himself." Adding, with his own sweet Smile, "Your _Gaffer_ used to say
that Women were a Bag of Snakes, and that the Man who put his Hand
therein woulde be lucky if he founde one Eel among them alle; but 'twas
onlie in Sport, _Meg_, and he owned that I had enough Eels to my Share
to make a goodly Pie, and called my House the Eel-pie House to the
Day of his Death. 'Twas our Lord _Jesus_ raised up Women, and shewed
Kindnesse unto 'em; and they've kept theire Level, in the Main, ever
since."
I wish _Will_ may sett down everie Thing of _Father's_ saying he can
remember; how precious will his Book then be to us! But I fear me,
these Matters adhere not to a Man's Memory ... he'll be telling of
his Doings as Speaker and Chancellor, and his saying this and that in
Parliament. Those are the Matters Men like to write and to read; he
won't write it after my Fashion.
I had a Misgiving of _Will's_ Wrath, that Night, 'speciallie if I
failed; but he called me his brave _Judith_. Indeed I was a Woman
bearing a Head, but one that had oft lain on my Shoulder.
My Thoughts beginne to have Connexion now; but till last Night, I slept
not. 'Twas scarce Sunsett. _Mercy_ had been praying beside me, and I
lay outside my Bed, inclining rather to Stupor than Sleep. O' suddain,
I have an Impression that some one is leaning over me, though I hear
'em not, nor feel theire Breath. I start up, cry "_Mercy!_" but she's
not there, nor anie one else. I turn on my Side and become heavie to
Sleep; but or ere I drop quite off, agayn I'm sensible or apprehensive
of some living Consciousness between my closed Eyelids and the setting
Sunlight; agayn start up and stare about, but there's Nothing. Then I
feel like ... like _Eli_, maybe, when the Child _Samuel_ came to him
twice; and Tears well into mine Eyes, and I close 'em agayn, and say
in mine Heart, "If he's at Hand, oh, let me see him next Time ... the
third Time's lucky." But 'steade of this, I fall into quiet, balmy,
dreamlesse Sleep. Since then, I've had an abiding, assuring Sense of
Help, of a Hand upholding me, and smoothing and glibbing the Way before
me.
We must yield to the Powers that be. At this Present, we are weak,
but they are strong; they are honourable, but we are despised. They
have made us a Spectacle unto the World, and, I think, Europe will
ring with it; but at this present Hour, they will have us forth of our
Home, though we have as yet no certayn Dwelling-Place, and must flee
as scared Pigeons from their Dove-cot. No Matter; our Men are willing
to labour, and our Women to endure: being reviled, we bless; being
persecuted, we suffer it. Onlie I marvell how anie honest Man, coming
after us, will be able to eat a Mouthful of Bread with a Relish within
these Walls. And, methinketh, a dishonest Man will have sundrie Frights
from the _Lares_ and _Lemures_. There'll be Dearth o' black Beans in
the Market.
Flow on, bright shining _Thames_. A good brave Man hath walked
aforetime on your Margent, himself as bright, and usefull, and
delightsome as be you, sweet River. And like you, he never murmured;
like you, he upbore the weary, and gave Drink to the Thirsty, and
reflected Heaven in his Face. I'll not swell your full Current with
any more fruitless Tears. There's a River, whose Streams make glad
the City of our GOD. He now rests beside it. Good Christian Folks,
as they hereafter pass this Spot, upborne on thy gentle Tide, will,
maybe, point this Way, and say--"There dwelt Sir _Thomas More_;" but
whether they doe or not, _Vox Populi_ is a very inconsiderable Matter.
Who would live on theire Breath? They hailed St. _Paul_ as _Mercury_,
and then stoned him, and cast him out of the City, supposing him to
be dead. Theire Favourite of to-day may, for what they care, goe hang
himself to-morrow in his Surcingle. Thus it must be while the World
lasts; and the very Racks and Scrues wherewith they aim to overcome
the nobler Spiritt, onlie test and reveal its Power of Exaltation above
the heaviest Gloom of Circumstance.
_Interfecistis, interfecistis Hominem omnium Anglorum optimum._