THE DEPARTURE.
Cavendish attended upon his master as the long retinue of state
arrived on the very last day they ever formed a cavalcade for him as
the Chancellor.
'Have all things been attended to, my faithful servant?' said Wolsey,
as, dismissing his retainers, Cavendish alone conducted his master to
his private room. There was a more than common suavity in the
Cardinal's manner, a greater unbending than he had before witnessed
in him; a more than usual sweetness, even approaching to tenderness.
'All is done as my lord desired; but Mistress Alice requested me to
acquaint her with my lord's return.'
'Ha! ha! I forgot; yes, Cavendish, I forgot. Well, it is well. How
could I forget? Go! yes, go! the sooner the better. I am as anxious
to see Mistress Alice, as she can be to see me. I am at leisure.
Quick, Cavendish. I am in my own house. Perhaps so! may be not--or
may be so. Go, good Cavendish! summon the Lady Alice.'
It was evident that Wolsey had, in his own remembrance of his
friends, forgotten that Alice was their enemy. Had he thought of
their early feud he would probably have devised some other plan of
accommodation for his friend. It is a painful one to any man to
entertain guests when the mistress of his house is set against them.
These things came as things unwelcome to a great man's mind; but the
greatest minds are frequently found to have to bend before female
caprice. A good man is as jealous of hospitality being shown to his
friends, as he is fond of domestic happiness; and she is a poor
partner who receives not her lord's friends with complacency.
A truly wise wife never compromises her husband's dignity or her own,
by behaving with incivility towards her husband's visitors. But when
a servant assumes the position of a wife, and treats her master's
visitors with contempt, it is time for her to be discharged.
Alice De Clinton occupied a superior station in the Cardinal's
family, and did the honors of his house, where female interference
was required, with the nicest propriety. She was, however, accounted
a very cold, unbending person, though to the Cardinal himself all
obsequiousness.
Her very manner to others gave occasion to the invention of evil
reports concerning her; and when a female is haughty, and knows not
how to conduct herself with gentleness, the world is glad to hear
unfavorable reports of her, and as readily believes them. Even
frailties are pitied where humility is not lost.
Alice entered the room where the Cardinal was reposing after the
fatigues and anxieties of business, relaxed both in mind and body.
He could not fail, however, to be struck with the singular appearance
of the lady.
She came in her riding costume. The Cardinal marvelled, and well he
might; but he was soon enlightened.
'You look astonished, my lord, to see me prepared for travel; but I
am come to speak my mind, and to bid you farewell for ever. I little
thought that I should ever be called upon to receive pestilent
heretics in the house of Cardinal Wolsey; heretics, too, at this very
moment under the ban of Tonstall, Bishop of London, summoned to
appear before my Lord Cardinal; and to be treated forthwith as if
they were the very best Catholics in the land. And who are these, my
lord's guests? Have not I often told my lord that they were the
greatest enemies he had? Have I not, years gone by, proclaimed them
to be what they are now brought under my lord's hands for; and are
they to come here and to expect favor from him who is appointed by
the head of the church to suppress and punish them?
'I ever thought that my lord made advances to my friendship through
the desire to refute and put down the enemies of the church. I ever
thought that the wisdom, talents, learning, and power with which the
favored of the Pope was gifted, were to be exercised for the honor of
the chief Pontiff, and for the welfare of all good Catholics in this
land.
'How is it, then, that one who has been bound by ties of friendship,
based upon such principle, should now be called upon to act upon the
contrary side? Is the memory of private regard to be weighed in the
balance with the public good? And am I, who was expecting to be an
Abbess of my lord's appointment, to be his panderer to a taste for
heresy?
'Forbid it! O, shade of Goldwell! O, deceased Bishop! thou didst
confide me to the guardianship of one whom thou didst deem a friend
to the church, and lo! that one turns upon his charge, and commands
her to receive, as her friends, these heretics against Rome.
'But my lord must be obtuse--my lord must be changed--my lord must be
about to lose all his dignity, and to become a driveller, a poor,
weak, mean-spirited man, and no longer the great Cardinal; the Lord
Chancellor--the most learned Bishop, the future candidate for the
Popedom, the great friend of Christendom.
'At all events, my lord cannot expect me to remain in his house under
existing circumstances. No, my lord, no; perish York House, before I
sleep in it whilst heretics lie under the same roof. Heretics, too,
who once dared to insult my guardian, and now affront me in this
house.
'Oh, my Lord Cardinal, this is a blow I did not expect from you.
Farewell, my lord's greatness; farewell, my hopes of preferment in
your grace's mansion. When the days of heresy come, it will be
remembered that the Cardinal of York fostered them in his own palace;
but let it be remembered, also, that she who dwelt with him as his
friend for twenty years, on that day took her departure.
'I shall return to Goldwell Hall, near the seat of my lord's birth,
and in that very house where I first knew him, shall I learn to
forget him, My Lord Cardinal--Farewell!'
'Alice De Clinton, hear me. One word. Nay--I insist upon giving you
an explanation. Care and I have of late been close companions.
Greatness and sorrow have been closeted in my soul for these many
days. Dignity and distress have been accompanying my lot wheresoever
I have gone; and now, Mistress Alice, that I return home, I find that
hospitality and heresy are to be the cause of separating Cardinal
Wolsey and Alice De Clinton for ever.
'This is what I call a domestic consummation of my calamitous career.
I did not think of heresy. I did not think of animosity. I forgot
your distaste, and I thought only of my former acquaintance with
these friends when I was poor and they were rich; and should I desert
them in distress, when the only opportunity I have, or ever may have,
in life, to repay them for their early kindness to me, is to befriend
them in the day of adversity.
'Shall I forget, Alice, that I am a man, because I am a Cardinal? Is
every feeling of gratitude to be totally extinct towards those who
have watched over my early years, and helped me in my studies, and
befriended me?
'Oh! Alice, if we forget those who have been kind to us in our
youth, God will forget us when we grow old. Read that letter from
Ellen, and let your heart feel its simplicity and truth, and then say
whether I ought or ought not to have exercised the duties of
hospitality.'
Alice read it. Yes, she read it. The tears started in her eyes, but
they were tears of bitterness, not of love; for love had no share in
her proud heart. It was ready to burst with vexation; but without
pity. She read it--she returned it; and she looked as if she felt a
sovereign contempt for the Cardinal's weakness; but she replied--
'My lord, it is not usual for a judge to entertain his prisoner
before he is honorably acquitted; and very seldom then. Judges
seldom have innocent persons tried before them. They know well that
they are set on high for the punishment of evil men, and not for the
encouragement of them.
'My Lord Cardinal is now the judge of this heretic De Freston. Can
there be any doubt of his acquittal when he can receive him before
trial, and treat him as his most intimate friend?
'My lord has grown wonderfully tender all at once; and merely from
this letter. I see nothing in it but the language of a beggar and an
impostor--who is now, through my lord's weakness, enjoying the
beggar's joy, the glorious reward of imposition; lodging, food, and
comfort.
'They smile at your humility, they laugh at your divinity, and they
applaud with vociferous exclamations your charity. But how will my
lord acquit himself before the Propaganda? All the house of
Cardinals will cry out "Wolsey is a heretic." You will acquit De
Freston; you must do it for Ellen's sake. Sweet letter, that can
make even a Cardinal merciful.
'I leave, my lord. I have a friend's house to go to. I shall at
once to Tonstall, and when he hears that his prisoners are your
guests, he will at least rejoice that one of your Grace's free
servants has sought his protection. Farewell, my Lord Cardinal.'
There are moments in a man's life, even when he is beaten down by his
enemies, when his bold spirit is prompt to speak righteousness;
witness Wolsey's speech to Suffolk, in reply to his reproach about
Cardinals in England. 'If I poor Cardinal had not been, you would
not at this present have had a head on your shoulders;' so witness
the Cardinal's cool but gentle reply to Mistress Alice De Clinton.
I would rather exercise hospitality to the distressed than punish
heretics. The former has pleasure here, and the promise of reward
hereafter; the latter was nothing but pain, and great doubt of any
satisfaction hereafter. If, therefore, Mistress Alice, the price of
thy remaining be the forfeit of the duties of hospitality, I would
rather thy departure than thy residence. Farewell.'
A haughty woman cut to the quick by calm wisdom is such a mortified
spectacle of discomfort, that it is well she should be hidden in
darkness as soon as possible. Her retirement, the more solitary the
more congenial. She may brood over her possessions, her hardships,
her mortifications, her injuries, her disappointments; but she can
never attain any happiness without a change of heart. If that should
come, she will be a joyful wonder to herself; if not, she will be a
miserable wretch, and live and die unhappy.
Alice De Clinton departed, leaving York Place and its inmates to a
day of rest.
The Cardinal summoned Cavendish after the lady's departure; and to
him he most graciously unburdened his mind.
'I shall not go out at all to-morrow, but remain entirely within my
own walls; but summon the Bishop of London by authority of mine hand,
to wait upon me at ten o'clock to-morrow. Remember, Cavendish, that
I do not wish it to be known, the cause why I remain at home
to-morrow. I have old friends, dear friends, whom I have deserted
for many years now sleeping beneath my roof. Let the utmost respect
be paid them; for if it were the last day of my grandeur, I could not
devote it to a better purpose than the revival of friendship.
'Alas, Master Cavendish, I fear my fortunes will not long stand. How
happy I ought to feel that they have stood thus long, so as to permit
me to gratify the friends of my youth. Mistress Alice is gone; and I
know not how it is, I feel as if a load of care was gone along with
her.
'Thou shall sup with me this night. My aged friend did well to
retire. I shall have much to talk to thee about; meantime prepare.'
The Cardinal never was so happy, or so truly great, as he was that
evening in speaking of all the days of his youth, and relating
anecdotes which came, as they always do come, with great grace from
great men.
'When great men speak, the falling pin is heard,
But when the poor--his case must be deferred.'