THE LETTER.
Wolsey is seated in his college-room over the gateway leading into
the principal quadrangle. He has been engaged, during the day, in
superintending the schools attached to the college, and has now
thrown off his heavy academical dress and broad hat, and in a plain
wooden chair without cushions, but with back and arms well polished,
is seated at a table inspecting the plans laid before him for the
finishing of the celebrated Magdalen Tower.
'Yes,' exclaimed the delighted youth, as he looked upon the plan with
eager attention, 'Latimer may surpass me in pleasing Ellen; but I
will be remembered when he shall be forgotten. His tower may grace
the banks of the Orwell, and please his fair mistress's eye, but
this--this!'--again inspecting the plain elevation, and the
ornamental plans--'shall astonish even the eyes of the University.'
It seemed, however, that painful recollections arose as he viewed
that work which still stands in its lofty grandeur on the borders of
the Cherwell, at that day flowing nearer to the tower than it now
does.
'Certainly,' he resumed, 'the Cherwell is not like the Orwell; but
Oxford shall surpass Ipswich, and my tower shall put Freston Tower in
the shade. I will have a grander room in the fifth story than Ellen
has in Latimer's tower. But shall I find greater intelligence than I
found there? Ah! who knows but that even Ellen De Freston and
Latimer may envy me the power I now possess of making the entrance
over Cherwell Ford, into this renowned seat of learning, more
beautiful than anything of the kind they have ever seen.'
Long did the bursar dwell upon the thought of his tower, and little
did any one in that college imagine that Wolsey's taste for building
received its first impulse from recollections of admiration Ellen De
Freston had expressed when that comparatively insignificant tower,
now standing on the banks of the Orwell, was built. It is the
remembrances of early praise bestowed by those he loves upon his
youthful works, that prompts the spirit of a man in after years to
perform works still more worthy of admiration.
Wolsey's taste for building was first displayed in the erection of
Magdalen Tower. He could now dwell upon great and ambitious
thoughts, but not without connecting them with many pleasant
reminiscences. As he had taken holy orders, the future was closed
against him for every hope of domestic comfort. He was forbidden, by
his vows, to think of woman, as the sharer of his cares or the
promoter of his comforts. He had once thought of one whose mental
qualifications bade fair to give a zest to his whole life; but
William Latimer had supplanted him, and Ellen De Freston was happy.
Well, was he to be dissatisfied? was he to pine away his existence?
were there to be no joys unconnected with this fancy of his youth?
Alas! the very struggle of his proud heart and susceptible nature
told him how difficult a thing it was to control the early
impressions of that pure attachment to which the God of nature and of
grace had made him subject.
At this period of Wolsey's life, there could not have occured a more
congenial occupation than this project of the tower. It accorded
well with the thoughts of his heart, at that time ready for any
enterprize. The peculiar pleasure he found in raising the structure
of Magdalen Tower was known only to himself. Ostensibly, it was done
for the honor of his college, but more prominently in his mind
existed the thought of out-doing the work of his successful rival.
He had various plans presented to him, but the one that pleased him
best was that which reserved its ornaments for the highest stories.
'Man,' he used to say, 'is like a building; his life should begin
upon a firm, plain, solid foundation, and improve as he advances,
until he reaches maturity; then, if worth anything, he may crown his
years with the ornaments of existence, and show forth all his beauty
and strength; but if he begins with ornaments, he will end in
dulness.'
His tower was an inimitable illustration of this doctrine: plain,
solid, firm, and unadorned, it ascended from its basement to its
superstructure. Its architectural decorations were reserved for the
fifth and upward story. Alas! poor Wolsey. Like his celebrated
tower, his splendor was reserved for the highest pinnacles which,
compared with his basement, were sure to provoke envy. The future
Cardinal had then before him the vision of fame, as connected only
with Magdalen Tower. He scraped together all the funds which could
be collected, he made half the University subscribe to his project,
obtained all the fines he could, made the tenants of Magdalen
endowments pay a certain bonus for the renewal of their tenures, and
for his pains drew a hornet's nest around his head, even among the
fellows of his own college, who condemned his extravagance and
extortion, even whilst they openly admired his project. Great men
have always to contend with little difficulties, which plague them
very often much more than obstacles of greater magnitude.
In the midst of the scheme of the tower a sudden and unexpected
visitor was announced by the entrance of his long-coated serving-man,
who said that a man from Suffolk had arrived at the college gates,
and desired to see him instantly.
'Shall I admit him at once, sir? He comes upon a superb horse, and
one which must have a good master, for it is as fat as our Magdalen
bucks, and sleek as the Vice-Chancellor.'
'What can he want?' said Wolsey to himself, as his old servant,
having received his directions, descended the stone steps to the
magnificent portal of the college.
'I say, mister!' said the Suffolk man, who had travelled through many
a muddy lane, impassable to vehicles, to reach Oxford, 'is this the
house Master Thomas Wolsey lives in?'
'Yes it is, and if thou likest to remain in it, we shall make thee
welcome; our bursar never lacks hospitality to the stranger!'
'Is it possible that Master Wolsey can be the owner of this palace?'
'Ay, to be sure, part owner, general purveyor, and I'll warrant as
good a master as thou hast got.'
'That remaineth to be proved, though. Do you see, I've as good a
master as a man wants; and let me tell ye, time was that your master
owned my master for his lord, and bowed his head to him, just as I'll
warrant you do to Master Wolsey. But before I go along with you, you
must along with me, and show me where the stables are; for I should
not like to rest on a good bed myself and my poor horse be standing
out all night.'
'Thou shall find good accommodation for man and beast. So lead thy
horse along. Our stables are as famous as our tables.'
'Ah!' thought Arthur Burch, 'Mistress Ellen should see this house. I
did not think Master Thomas lived in such a place. I don't wonder at
his liking it.'
The horse was soon stabled, nor would Arthur leave him until he had
assisted the far-famed grooms of Magdalen stables to give him a rub
down.
Jokes, even in those precise and formal days, one hostler would have
with another; and it was no little amusement to the knowing pals of
the seat of learning to see the country bumpkin mistake a college for
one man's palace.
'Your master's house,' said Arthur, 'is larger than that of mine. Do
all these horses belong to him?'
'Well, that's a good one. And to whom dost thou suppose they should
belong? How many horses has thy master?'
'Four short of thine.'
'Ha! has thy master twelve?'
'He has in all; if I take into the lump old Stumpy, the chesnut
punch.'
'What does he do with twelve horses?'
'Why, ride them, to be sure. What does thy master do with his?'
'Keep them for us to ride, to be sure!'
'Well, master does not ride all his horses. There be three for my
young mistress, three for journeys, three for work, and three for
master. Occasionally, howsome'er, we all mount in procession, and
then we look as a lord's retinue should look. Is Master Wolsey's
stud as well employed?'
'Master is very good. He lets all gentlemen who visit him in this
great mansion take a horse whenever they please. It is for this
reason thou seest so many saddles and bridles on now. And, hark!
John, thou'rt called. Lead out the brown mare to the block's foot
and never mind the blockhead.'
This was said with a knowing wink to John Hibbert, the groom's boy,
afterwards Wolsey's state-groom, and was meant to make a jest of
Arthur Burch, in whose simplicity, however, there was nothing to be
ashamed of.
It was the evening hour in which the fellows of Magdalen indulged in
the recreation of a summer's ride, then so frequent along the banks
of the Isis, that a man of Magdalen was thought nothing of, except he
were an equestrian. Arthur was astounded at the number of friends,
serving-men, and gentlemen acquaintances, which Master Thomas Wolsey
must have; and he bethought him then, what a famous thing it must be
to be a learned man.
Presently, he was soon conducted to the stone staircase leading to
the bursar's rooms, and was confronted with the man whom he once
looked upon as my lord's hanger on; and now beheld, as he thought,
the lord of all that princely building.
Wolsey started, as he recognised Lord De Freston's servant.
'Arthur, what now?' he exclaimed. 'What brings thee out of Suffolk?'
'My master's orders.'
'Dost thou deliver them, verbally?'
'No, sir, by letter.'
Here he delivered one enclosed in a leathern case, which, though
couched in quaint terms, may not form an unpleasant diversion to the
reader. Its matter was of sufficient moment to induce Wolsey to say:
'Arthur, thou mayst retire; my servant's room is at the foot of the
stairs. Tell him thy wants, and they shall be supplied.'
'Thank you, sir; but I shall want little else than an answer to my
lord's message. I should like to see this fine house, and something
of the city. I hear ye be all very learned people here.'
'Peter will show thee something of the University. Thou mayst
retire.'
Arthur retired, filled with the most inconceivable admiration of
Master Thomas's greatness; and soliloquised as ha descended the stone
steps:
'I always said Master Thomas would be a great man. He always walked
like one, spoke like one, and seemed so easy with all great men, and
so learned too! No one can be great without learning. It must be a
fine thing.'
The letter was written in the following words:
'_To Thomas Wulcey, bye th'r hand of Arthur Burch, oure survin-man.
This comeyth from Lord De Freston and Ellen his well-beloved
daughter._
'We commende ourselves unto thee, Thomas, in pease and love, and are
well assuride itt is noo lesse joye to thee to heare fro' us than for
us to hear fro' thee. In truithe and honeur thou art much extemyde.
Wold it wor our fortune convenientlie to have seen thee when in our
nebourhede, when thou didst journeye last from Ox'nforde to
Ippyswiche. We heare that thou art a prest, Thomas, devoted to
hevyn. We do heare this fro' thy mod'r Johan, and fro' thy friende
and uncle Edmunde Dayndye; and that Bushop Gouldwelle dyd ordayne
thee. We are informyde that thou art so contentyde in this matter
that the bushop's haundes have ben doublee well bistowide. If all
succede with thee wee shall rejoyce. Wee wish thee prosesperous in
thy determyning; and hope yt is for the best for the Churche sin thy
learnin is gret and thy demenor gude; for ther levithe no man more
hartilye devotede to God. We wish to tell thee it is in thy pow'r
and provinc to serve us, by givin us agen thy companie. And wee
think thou canst hardley deny'de us as wee send all way to beseeche
thee come.
'If itt soo had fortunyde that wee had sen thee we wou'd have
explaynede to thee what wee now do. We hould thee to thy promyse
upon the holy ewangelysts to be presente at the ceremonie of marrage
whensoewer and whhersoewer suche shall take place tween Ellen De
Freston and whomsoweer it may be. Now that thou art a prest, Thomas,
we shall looke for thy help which we hope for at St. Lawrence Churche
in Ippyswiche the XII day at next moneth.
'Willyam Latymer wrott latelie to thee, as he haythe declayrede,
telling thee how muche he suffrid not hearinge from thee: and then
informynge thee of his plesure to have thee his friende present at
his nuptials. Not doubtyng of thy mynde to promoat the joye of oders
wee hope thou wilt come. Our plesur will be gret in thy companie at
Frestone Castel; and thy moder Johan will be glad to have thee. So,
Thomas, wee shall hope, that on this behalve thou wilt not forsayke
us, but unyte William Latymer and Ellen De Frestone in the bonds of
matrymonie.
'Wee hope thy answer by the haunde of the sayed Arthur Burch, and are
thy loving friends,
'DE FRESTON
'and ELLEN.
'To Thomas Wulsey,
'Magdalyne College,
'Oxnforde.
'JUNE xviii, A.D.MCCCCXXXXXVIII.'
This epistle created a deep impression. It had been enough for him
to discover his own blighted hopes, with regard to the first and
fondest attachment he had formed in life. But Wolsey then had no
thought of the ambitious projects which afterwards swayed him.
The pride of the man never was greater than in the tone of argument
he held with himself at that time when his nature said 'Do not go,'
and his spirit said 'Go!'
'Yes, I did promise, and I will perform the ceremony, or, at least, I
will be present at these espousals. It shall never be said by Alice
De Clinton, or her uncle, that I shrank from a duty which required
nothing but exertion to discharge. Ellen, Latimer, De Freston, nay,
my mother, and all Ipswich shall see, that I care not for friends or
relatives, and that the boyish fancies of my former days shall be
forgotten in the duties of my office.'
Then he sat leaning on his elbow, with hand upon his forehead,
thinking of what he should write. Thinking, indeed, he was, all that
night; and not one word could his proud spirit pen to his friend
Latimer, or to Ellen, or her father.
His servant came to ask his commands about Lord De Freston's
messenger.
'Tell him,' replied the priest, 'I will give him his answer at six
o'clock on the morrow.'
So the restless spirit tossed him to and fro all night, and when the
dawn arose, Wolsey arose with it, and might be seen walking under the
magnificent frees of Magdalen Park. When he returned to his rooms,
Arthur Burch was in great distress. His horse had been taken ill in
the night, and, as the farrier said he would be quite unable to
proceed on his journey, he came to petition Wolsey for the loan of
one of his numerous stud.
'I have but one, Arthur, and that I shall want myself. Mine is but a
poor substitute for thy noble Flanders black. Yet I can hire here
better than thou canst. So thou mayst have my nag.'
Arthur's eyes were open, and his tongue soon gave utterance to his
astonishment.
'What, a'nt all those horses yours I saw in the stables? and a'nt all
this great house yours? and a'nt you master of all these folks? They
told me you were a-going to build a great tower, like Master
Latimer's at Freston; and yet you say you've got but one horse!'
'All this is true, Arthur, and I have but this room, and that I call
my own, and yet it is not my own, for I cannot sell it, or give it to
any one. It belongs to the college. I am going to build a tower,
but with the college money. Yet one day, Arthur, it will as much
surpass Freston Tower as the King's palace does thy master's house.
But we will not talk of these things. Go thou and look to thy horse,
and if not fit to journey, take thou mine.'
'But the letter, your reverence?'
'Say I wrote none; but that I sent word by thee, that I will be there
anon, ready to do what duty may be required of me.'
So Wolsey dismissed Lord De Freston's servant, and prepared himself
to follow him to Ipswich.