Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century

by Georgiana Fullerton

paper fromhis bosom, did present it to her highness, who started as ifsurprised, and shook her head in a playful manner--(oh, what a cruelplayfulness methought it was, who knew, as her majesty must needs alsohave done, what that paper did contain)--as if she would not be at thattime troubled with such grave matters, and did hand it to my LordBurleigh; then gave again her hand to my lord to kiss, who did kneelwith a like reverence as before; but with a shade of melancholy in hisfair young face, which methought became it better than the smiles ithad worn that day.

  After the queen had left, and all the guests were gone save such fewas my lord had willed to stay to supper in his private apartments, Iwent unto my lady's chamber, where I found Mistress Milicent, who saidshe was with my lord, and prayed me to await her return; for that shewas urgent I should not depart without speaking with her, which wasalso what I greatly desired. So I took a book and read for the spaceof an hour or more, whilst she tarried with my lord. When she came in,I could see she had been weeping. But her women being present, andlikewise Mistress Bess, she tried to smile, and pressed my hand,bidding me to stay till she was rid of her trappings, as she did termthem; and, sitting down before her mirror,--though I ween she neverlooked at her own face, which that evening had in it more of thewhiteness of a lily than the color of the rose,--she desired her womento unbraid her hair, and remove from her head the diamond circlet, andfrom her neck the heavy gold chain with a pearl cross, which hadbelonged to her husband's mother. Then stepping out of her robe, sheput on a silk wrapper, and so dismissed them, and likewise littleBess, who before she went whispered in her ear:

  "Nan, methinks the queen is foul and red-haired, and I should not careto kiss her hand for all the fine jewels she doth wear."

  And so hugged her round the neck and stopped her mouth with kisses.When they were gone,

  "Constance," quoth she, "we be full young, I ween, for the burden laidupon us, my lord and me."

  "Ay, sweet one," I cried; "and God defend thou shouldst have to carryit alone;" for my heart was sore that she had had so little favorshown to her and my lord so much. A faint color tinged her cheek asshe replied:

  "God knows I should be well cotent that Phil should stand so well inher majesty's good graces as should be convenient to his honor and thefurtherance of his fortunes, if so be his father was out of prison;and 'tis little I should reck of such slights as her highness shouldchoose to put upon me, if I saw him not so covetous of her favor thathe shall think less well of his poor Nan hereafter by reason of thelack of her majesty's good opinion of her, which was so plainly showedto-day. For, good Constance, bethink thee what a galling thing it isto a young nobleman to see his wife so meanly entreated; and for hermajesty to ask him, as she did, if the pale-faced chit by his side,when she arrived, was his sister or his cousin. And when he said itwas his wife who had knelt with him to greet her majesty"--"Wife!"quoth the queen; "i' faith, I had forgotten thou wast married--ifindeed that is to be called a marriage which children do contractbefore they come to the age of reason; and said she would takemeasures for that a law should be passed which should make suchfoolish marriages unlawful. And when my lord tried to tell her we hadbeen married a second time a few months since, she pretended not tohear, and asked M. de la Motte if, in his country, children were madeto marry in their infancy. To which he gave answer, that the likepractice did sometimes take place in France; and that he hadhimself been present at a wedding where the bridegroom was whippedbecause he did refuse to open the ball with the bride. At the whichher majesty very much laughed, and said she hoped my lord had not beenso used on his wedding-day. I promise you Phil was very angry; but thewound these jests made was so salved over with compliments, whichpleasantly tickle the ears when uttered by so great a queen, and marksof favor more numerous than can be thought of, in the matter ofinviting him to hunt with her in Marylebone and Greenwich park, andtelling him he deserved better treatment than he had, as to hishousehold and setting forward in the world, that methinks the scar wasnot long in healing; albeit in the relating of these passages the painsomewhat revived. But what doth afflict me the most is the refusal herhighness made to read my lord's letter, lamenting the unhappy positionof the duke his father, and hoping the queen, by his means and thoseof other friends, should mitigate her anger. I would have had Phil notonly go down on his knees as he did, but lie on the threshold of thedoor, so that she should have walked over the son's body if sherefused to show mercy to the father; but he yet doth greatly hope fromthe favor showed him that he may sue her majesty with better effectsome other time; and I pray God he may be right."

  Here did the dear lady break off her speech, and, hiding her face inher hands, remained silent for a short space; and I, seeing her sodeeply moved, with the intent to draw away her thoughts from painfulmusings, inquired of her if the good entertainment she had found inconversing with the bishop had been attributable to his wittydiscourse, or to the subjects therein treated of.

  "Ah, good Constance," she answered, "our talk was of one whom you haveoften heard me speak of--Mr. Martin's friend, Master Campion,[Footnote 2] who is now beyond seas at Douay, and whom this bishoponce did hold to be more dear to him than the apple of his eye. Hesays his qualifications were so excellent, and he so beloved by allpersons in and outside of his college at Oxford, that none more so;and that he did himself see in him so great a present merit andpromise of future excellence, that it had caused him more grief thananything else which had happened to him, and been the occasion of hisshedding more tears than he had ever thought to have done, when he whohad received from him deacon's orders, and whom he had hoped shouldhave been an honor and a prop to the Church of England, did forsake itand fly in the face of his queen and his country: first, by going intoIreland; and then, as he understood, beyond seas, to serve the bishopof Rome, against the laws of God and man. But that he did yet sodearly affection him that, understanding we had sometimes tidings ofMr. Martin, by whose means he had mostly been moved to this lamentabledefection, he should be contented to hear somewhat of his whilom son,still dear to him, albeit estranged. I told him we did often seeMaster Campion when Mr. Martin was here; and that, from what I hadheard, both were like to be at Douay, but that no letters passedbetween Mr. Martin and ourselves; for that his grace did not allow ofsuch correspondence since he had been reconciled and gone beyond seas.Which the bishop said was a commendable prudence in his grace, and thepart of a careful father; and added, that then maybe he knew more ofwhat had befallen Master Campion than I did; for that he had a longepistle from him, so full of moving arguments and pithy remonstrancesas might have shaken one not well grounded and settled in hisreligion, and which also contained a recital of his near arrest inDublin, where the queen's officers would have arrested him, if afriend had not privately warned him of his danger. And I do know, good Constance, who that friend was; for albeit I would not tell thebishop we had seen Master Campion since he was reconciled, he, intruth, was here some months ago: my lord met him in the street,disguised as a common travelling man, and brought him into the garden,whither he also called me; and we heard then from him how he wouldhave been taken in Ireland, if the viceroy himself, Sir Henry Sydney,who did greatly favor him,--as indeed all who know him incline to do,for his great parts, and nobleness of mind and heart, and withal mostattractive manners,--had not sent him a message, in the middle of thenight, to the effect that he should instantly leave the city, and takemeasures for to escape abroad. So, under the name of Patrick, andwearing the livery of the Earl of Kildare, he travelled to a porttwenty miles from Dublin, and there embarked for England. The queen'sofficers, coming on board the ship whereon he had taken his passage,before it sailed, searched it all over; but through God's mercy, hesaid, and St. Patrick's prayers, whose name he had taken, no one didrecognize him, and he passed to London; and the day after, my lordsent him over to Flanders. So much as the bishop did know thereon, herelated unto me, and stinted not in his praise of his great merits,and lamentations for what he called his perversion; and hence he tookoccasion to
speak of religion. And when I said I had been brought upin the Catholic religion, albeit I now conformed to the times, he saidhe would show me the way to be Catholic and still obey the laws, andthat I might yet believe for the most part what I had learnt from myteachers, so be I renounced the Pope, and commended my saying theprayers I had been used to; which, he doubted not, were more pleasingto God than such as some ministers do recite out of their own heads,whom he did grieve to hear frequented our house, and were no betterthan heretics, such as Mr. Fox and Mr. Fulke and Mr. Charke, and thelike of them. But what did much content me was, that he mislikes thecruel usage recusants do meet with; and he said, not as if boasting ofit, but to declare his mind thereon, that he had often sent them almswho suffered for their conscience' sake, as many do at this time.