thathe was going to France to a good uncle; nor ever intended to return,for his mother was to carry him to La Rochelle, and she should staythere with him, he said, and not come back to ugly Lichfield.
"And art thou not sorry, Jack," I asked him one day, "to leave poorEdmund, who loves thee so well?"
The little madcap was coursing round the room, and cried, as he ranpast me, for he had more wit and spirit than sense or manners:
"Edmund must seek after me, and take pains to find me, if so be hewould have me."
These words, which the boy said in his play, have often come back tomy mind since the two brothers have attained unto a happy thoughdissimilar end.
When the time had arrived for Mistress Genings and her youngest son togo beyond seas, as I was now improved in health and able to walk, myfather fetched me home, and prevailed on Mr. Genings to let Edmund goback with us, with the intent to divert his mind from his grief at hisbrother's departure.
I found my parents greatly disturbed at the news they had had touchingthe imprisonment of thirteen priests on account of religion, and ofMr. Orton being likewise arrested, who was a gentleman very dear tothem for his great virtues and the steadfast friendship he had evershown to them.
My mother questioned Edmund as to the sign he had seen in the heavensa short time back, of which the report had reached them; and heconfirming the truth thereof, she clasped her hands and cried:
"Then I fear me much this forebodes the death of these blessedconfessors, Father Weston and the rest."
Upon which Edmund said, in a humble manner:
"Good Mistress Sherwood, my dear mother thought it signified thatthose of your religion would murder in their beds such as are of thequeen's religion; so maybe in both cases there is naught toapprehend."
"My good child," my mother answered, "in regard of those now indurance for their faith, the danger is so manifest, that if it pleasenot the Almighty to work a miracle for their deliverance, I see nothow they may escape."
After that we sat awhile in silence; my father reading, my mother andI working, and Edmund at the window intent as usual upon the stars,which were shining one by one in the deep azure of the darkening sky.As one of greater brightness than the rest shone through the branchesof the old tree, where I used to hide some years before, he pointed toit, and said to me, who was sitting nearest to him at the window:
"Cousin Constance, think you the Star of Bethlehem showed fairer inthe skies than yon bright star that has just risen behind yourfavorite oak? What and if that star had a message for us!"
My father heard him, and smiled. "I was even then," he said, "readingthe words of one who was led to the true religion by the contemplationof the starry skies. In a Southern clime, where those fair luminariesshine with more splendor than in our Northern heavens, St. Augustinewrote thus;" and then he read a few sentences in Latin from the bookin his hand,--"Raising ourselves up, we passed by degrees through allthings bodily, even the very heavens, whence sun and moon and starsshine upon the earth. Yea, we soared yet higher by inward musing anddiscourse and admiring of God's works, and we came to our own mindsand went beyond them, so as to arrive at that region of never-failingplenty where thou feedest Israel for ever with the food of truth."These words had a sweet and solemn force in them which struck on theear like a strain of unearthly music, such as the wind-harp wakes inthe silence of the night. In a low voice, so low that it was likethe breathing of a sigh, I heard Edmund say, "What is truth?" But whenhe had uttered those words, straightway turning toward me as if todivert his thoughts from that too pithy question, he cried: "Prithee,cousin Constance, hast thou ended reading, I warrant for the hundredthtime, that letter in thine hand? and hast thou not a mind to impart tothy poor kinsman the sweet conceits I doubt not are thereincontained?" I could not choose but smile at his speech; for I hadindeed feasted my eyes on the handwriting of my dear friend, now nolonger Mistress Dacre, and learnt off, as it were by heart, itscontents. And albeit I refused at first to comply with his request,which I had secretly a mind to; no sooner did he give over the urgingof it than I stole to his side, and, though I would by no means let itout of my hand, and folded down one side of the sheet to hide what wasprivate in it, I offered to read such parts aloud as treated ofmatters which might be spoken of without hindrance.
With a smiling countenance, then, he set himself to listen, and I tobe the mouthpiece of the dear writer, whose wit was so far in advanceof her years, as I have since had reason to observe, never having metat any time with one in whom wisdom put forth such early shoots.
"DEAR MISTRESS CONSTANCE" (thus the sweet lady wrote),--"Wherefore this long silence and neglect of your poor friend? An if it be true, which pains me much to hear, that the good limb which, together with its fellow, like two trusty footmen, carried you so well and nimbly along the alleys of your garden this time last year, has, like an arrant knave, played fast and loose, and failed in its good service,--wherein, I am told, you have suffered much inconvenience,--is it just that that other servant, your hand, should prove rebellious too, refuse to perform its office, and write no more letters at your bidding? For I'll warrant 'tis the hand is the culprit, not the will; which nevertheless should be master, and compel it to obedience. So, an you love me, chide roundly that contumacious hand, which fails in its duty, which should not be troublesome, if you but had for me one-half of the affection I have for you. And indeed, Mistress Constance, a letter from you would be to me, at this time, the welcomest thing I can think of; for since we left my grandmother's seat, and came to the Charterhouse, I have new friends, and many more and greater than I deserve or ever thought to have; but, by reason of difference of age or of religion, they are not such as I can well open my mind to, as I might to you, if it pleased God we should meet again. The Duke of Norfolk is a very good lord and father to me; but when there are more ways of thinking than one in a house, 'tis no easy matter to please all which have a right to be considered; and, in the matter of religion, 'tis very hard to avoid giving offence. But no more of this at present; only I would to God Mr. Fox were beyond seas, and my lady of Westmoreland at her home in the North; and that we had no worse company in this house than Mr. Martin, my Lord Surrey's tutor, who is a gentleman of great learning and knowledge, as every one says, and of extraordinary modesty in his behavior. My Lord Surrey has a truly great regard for him, and profits much in his learning by his means. I notice he is Catholic in his judgment and affections; and my lord says he will not stay with him, if his grace his father procures ministers to preach to his household and family, and obliges all therein to frequent Protestant service. I wish my grandmother was in London; for I am sometimes sore troubled in my mind touching Catholic religion and conforming to the times, of which an abundance of talk is ministered unto us, to my exceeding great discomfort, by my Lady Westmoreland, his grace's sister, and others also. An if I say aught thereon to Mistress Fawcett (a grave and ancient gentlewoman, who had the care of my Lord Surrey during his infancy, and is now set over us his grace's wards), and of misliking the duke's ministers and that pestilent Mr. Fox--(I fear me, Mistress Constance, I should not have writ that unbeseeming word, and I will e'en draw a line across it, but still as you may read it for indeed 'tis what he is; but 'tis from himself I learnt it, who in his sermons calls Catholic religion a pestilent idolatry, and Catholic priests pestilent teachers and servants of Antichrist, and the holy Pope at Rome the man of sin) she grows uneasy, and bids me be a good child to her, and not to bring her into trouble with his grace, who is indeed a very good lord to us in all matters but that one of compelling us to hear sermons and the like. My Lord Surrey mislikes all kinds of sermons, and loves Mr. Martin so well, that he stops his ears when Mr. Fox preaches on the dark midnight of papacy and the dawn of the gospel's restored light. And it angers him, as well it should, to hear him call his majesty King Philip of Spain, who is his own godfather, from whom he received his name, a wicked popish tyrant and a son of Antichrist.
My Lady Margaret, his sister, who is a year younger than himself, and has a most admirable beauty and excellent good nature, is vastly taken with what she hears from me of Catholic religion; but methinks this is partly by reason of her misliking Mr. Fulk and Mr. Clarke's long preachments, which we are compelled to hearken to; and their fashion of spending Sunday, which they do call the Sabbath-day, wherein we must needs keep silence, and when not in church sit still at home, which to one of her lively disposition is heavy penance. Methinks when Sunday comes we be all in disgrace; 'tis so like a day of correction. My Lord Surrey has more liberty; for Mr. Martin carries him and his brothers after service into the pleasant fields about Westminster Abbey and the village of Charing Cross, and suffers them to play at ball under the trees, so
Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century Page 6
