THE LETTER.
Nothing but the calm wisdom of De Freston could prevent an outbreak.
The people of Ipswich and its vicinity were so attached to him, that,
had not Daundy been there to exercise his influence and control over
his fellow-townsmen, the Cardinal's mandate would not have been
carried into execution without violence.
But De Freston had discreet friends who offered to be bound with and
for him, but he would hear of none so committing themselves. He was
content when Wentworth consented that his son-in-law and his lovely
daughter should accompany him.
She also accounted it an honor to be able to share her father's
afflictions. Her principles were of that pure and holy kind, they
would not shrink in the hour of trial from filial affection. She
regarded the fifth commandment of God, by the grace which she
received so to do, and was fully determined to suffer with her
father, let the penalty be what it might.
Father and daughter were indeed Christians. They knew how to suffer
for the truth's sake, as will appear by their conversation on the
evening of their arrival and detention at Westminster, by order of
Tonstal, Bishop of London.
Lodged in a mean apartment, ill-becoming their respectability in the
eyes of men, it was for that daughter, by the power of that quiet,
commanding interest which her virtuous carriage and external
appearance claimed, to secure for her father better treatment than he
would otherwise have received.
For herself, she would have written nothing to the great man: but
when did a daughter's piety fail in behalf of a father, when
innocence and a righteous cause demanded her exertion?
Where a son might have failed she succeeded, as the sequel will show,
to Wolsey's honor and the development of the best feelings of his
heart.
She insisted upon writing a letter to the Cardinal.
'Tell the keeper of this prison,' she said, 'that I insist upon
seeing him.'
One of the creatures of Tonstal made his appearance.
'Is your master, the Bishop, to be seen?'
'My lord may be seen at proper hours, but not at this time.'
'Can you convey a letter to the Cardinal?'
'From whom?'
'From me, sir.'
'I cannot have any communication conveyed to the Cardinal from you
father without the Bishop's previous knowledge. But for you, lady,
as you are not in custody, I can send a messenger.'
'Can you furnish me with pen and paper?'
'They shall be at your command; but will you retire into my private
apartments for such a purpose?'
'I thank you for the offer; but I will write here.'
'I fear, if you do, I shall have to send it first to the Bishop of
London for his inspection, as it will be issued direct from the
prisoner's presence.'
'Then will I accompany you for such a period as may be sufficient for
my purpose. I will be soon with you again, dearest father.'
'For what purpose, my daughter,' added De Freston, upon whom years
had begun to make their accustomed ravages, 'will you write to the
great man? Let me be content without your making any humiliating
concessions for me. I am old, and in a common course of nature must
soon depart this life. Degrade me not, my daughter, by any
compromise of your own dignity, for the ephemeral phantom of this
man's dominion. We have had proof enough that he thinks nothing
about us, or he would not have forgotten, for so many years, his old
friends and companions in Freston Tower. Write to him not, but let
all things proceed as if we were strangers to him.'
'You may safely trust your honor, my dear father, to my keeping.
Fear not, for one moment, that I should write anything derogatory to
the nicest sense of Christian delicacy, nor that I should court even
the Cardinal's smiles at the expense of integrity. I will not
compromise faith, truth, or righteousness. But human greatness,
dearest father, is sometimes misrepresented, and we may have wronged
him--even the friend we knew when he was young--and may have
attributed false motives to those actions which regard ourselves.
Wolsey may not really be insensible to the truth as we ourselves
profess it, and may be ignorant of our being brought to London. I
cannot think the Cardinal can so far forget us as to neglect us in
our necessity.'
'Ah, my daughter, power and greatness are dangerous possessions,
where the heart is hardened beyond the calls of nature, grace, or
gratitude. He who could revenge an insult, after years of daily
prayer himself to be forgiven, is not a likely man to liberate even
an old friend if he finds him an opponent. Wolsey knows our
sentiments. Did he spare Sir Amias Pawlet? No. How then can we
hope for anything but justice, one-sided justice, from the Cardinal?
Severity and injustice will be shown to us as heretics, and we shall
be rejected, and--'
'Hold, hold, dear father; I am ready to suffer with you, upon any
matter of faith and duty; but let us not condemn his greatness merely
because we may appear to have been neglected by him. He must have
had his great mind so fully occupied even with the King's business,
that we may have been overlooked. I have still some returning regard
for the friend of my youth; and, though Latimer may not forgive him,
I am sure he will forgive me for saying I forgive him. Trust me,
dear father, trust me! Farewell for an hour. Latimer is gone to
seek a lodging, as he is not permitted to remain here. I may,
however, by the indulgence of the gaoler, on account of the
increasing infirmities of your years, wait upon you. I will write to
the Cardinal. There can be no hurt in it.'
'Go, my child, thou art confident of the innocence of thine
intentions, and of the perfect justice of thy cause. I will add no
more. Go!'
She retired into the gaoler's private apartments, and wrote her
letter in simple dignity of style, according to the method of the day.
'MY LORD CARDINAL,
'This comeyth unto thee by suffrance of the gaoler in Cannon Street
prison, unto which place, committed by thine order through Lord
Wentworth, the commissioner for the suppression of heresies and
heretics, my venerable father, thy former patron, is now thy prisoner.
'I say thy prisoner, but presume it to be but nominally thine, and
really the prisoner of the Bishop of London. I cannot think that
thou wouldst permit an old man, and a steadfast friend of thy youth,
to sleep in a dungeon, whilst thou dost occupy a palace.
'Thou knowest well the free mynde of my father, and canst best judge
of his state who did ever open unto thee the store-house of his
intellect, and did keep nothing from thee, which his readyne and his
studye could attain.
'I pray thee, my Lord Cardinal, remember that thy greatness can never
better become thee than when thou dost shield from disdain and
dyscomfort those who can no longer defend themselves. The aged man,
now growing infirm, but only in bodye, doth well remember thy younger
days; and I, his daughter, whom thou dydst once call thy friend, am
unwilling to thynke thou canst forget us.
'Tears do alter moste men, but Christian men never lose the goodness
of their hearts, but the rather, as their years do increase, they
themselves do grow better-hearted.
'The Lord De Freston, though grey and thyn, ys not thyn within, for
he ys stout-hearted and as warm in spirit as he ever was.
'He would cheerfullie endure even the cold of a prison, not would
have me wryte to thee now in any tone of complaynte; but nathlesse I
do, for I do see an aged parent suffrynge for the want of better fare
and lodgment; and I do not think so bad of thee as to beleeve that
thou art so steeled against all righteousnesse, as to permit an ould
friend to be so discomfytted.
'By thy authority, we myght procure better lodgment, if thou wouldst
gyve an orderre for our permission to seek them; gyving, as we would
cheerfully do, our honourable word to appear at any hour before thee,
my Lord Cardinal, or thy high Commissioner touching any inquiries as
to our accusation.
'My Lord will readily forgive a daughter's anxiety for one who has
ever been all in all to her from her infancy, and attribute thys
appeel to filial affection, as well as to a certayne sense she has of
Cardinal Wolsey's greatness, that he will not deny her thys very
symple requeste, to be permyttede to convey her father to some better
lodgment.
'This favour granted, will give comfort to your humble servant,
'ELLEN DE FRESTON, now
'ELLEN LATYMER.'
This letter was handed to the Cardinal the last day he ever presided
in Westminster Hall as Lord Chancellor.
It was the first day of Michaelmas Term, 1529, when he had put forth
all his accustomed pomp to go from York Place to Westminster. It was
on that very day Ellen De Freston's letter was handed to him in Court.
The Cardinal was observed to turn deadly pale, and some thought he
had received a letter from Mistress Anne, conveying some more direct
intimation of his downfall.
What were the depths of his real thoughts no one could tell. He
wrote on a scrap of paper--'Summon Cavendish.'
To him he gave commission to go and bring to his house forthwith Lord
De Freston and all his retinue; and 'let one and all,' said he, 'be
well entreated.'
It was observed that Wolsey gave that day such evidences of
abstraction of mind as bordered upon aberration. Men prognosticated
his speedy decline, and plenty there were among the nobles who were
glad to give him a kick, to let him see how truly they despised the
man whom they once had feared.
When Ellen returned to her parent's prison she narrated, as nearly as
she could, the words she had made use of; but the old man, Lord De
Freston, shook his head, and said--
'Men forget their benefactors when ambition has brought them to the
pinnacle of fame. Pride likes not to remember it had a patron. Good
men only take pleasure in looking upon the past, and calling to mind
the ministering kindnesses of any, rich or poor, whoever they might
be, that gave them even a cup of cold water in the day of their
necessity. The Cardinal has too much pride.'
'Wait, dear father, the return of the messenger. We can but then
moralize upon the hardness of the human heart. Let us pray that God
will not desert him, though he be so great a man. Something whispers
to my heart that we have wronged him.'
O! when did female pity fail to hope the best of one for whom it has
felt even the slightest regard?
Ellen had a wise heart, a kind spirit--the very soul of purity and
love--which would not think evil until proof should be given of a
hardened heart; and she was not deceived.