Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century

by Georgiana Fullerton

appointed they should all dieat Tyburn, except Mr. Genings and Mr. Wells, who were to be executedbefore Mr. Wells's own door in Gray's Inn Fields, within three doorsof our own lodging. The judges, we were told, after pronouncingsentence, began to persuade them to conform to the Protestantreligion, assuring them that by so doing they should obtain mercy, butotherwise they must certainly expect to die. But they all answered"that they would live and die in the true Roman and Catholic faith,which they and all antiquity had ever professed, and that they wouldby no means go to the Protestant churches, or for one moment thinkthat the queen could be head of the Church in spirituals." They dealtmost urgently with Edmund Genings in this matter of conformity, givinghim hopes not only of his life, but also of a good living, it he wouldrenounce his faith; but he remained, God be praised, constant andresolute; upon which he was thrust into a dark hole within the prison,where he remained in prayer, without food or sustenance, till the hourof his death. Some letters we received from him and Mr. Wells, whichhave become revered treasures and almost relics in our eyes. One didwrite (this was Edmund): "The comforts which captivity bringeth are somanifold that I have rather cause to thank God highly for his fatherlydealings with me than to complain of any worldly misery whatsoever.Custom hath caused that it is no grief to me to be debarred fromcompany, desiring nothing more than solitude. When I pray, I talk withGod--when I read, he talketh with me; so that I am never alone." Andmuch more in that strain. Mr. Wells ended his letter thus: "I am boundwith gyves, yet I am unbound toward God, and far better I account itto have the body bound than the soul to be in bondage. I am threatenedhard with danger of death; but if it be no worse, I will not wish itto be better. God send me his grace, and then I weigh not what fleshand blood can do unto me. I have answered to many curious anddangerous questions, but I trust with good advisements, not offendingmy conscience. What will come of it God only knoweth. Through prisonand chains to glory. Thine till death." This letter was addressed toBasil, with a desire expressed we should read it before it was sent tohim.

  On the day before the one of the execution, Kate came to take leave ofher husband. She could not speak for her tears; but he, with his usualcomposure, bade her be of good comfort, and that death was no more tohim than to drink off the caudle which stood there ready on his table.And methinks this indifferency was a joint effect of nature and ofgrace, for none had ever seen him hurried or agitated in his life withany matter whatsoever. And when he rolled Topcliffe down the stairsand fell with him--for it was he which did this desperate action--hisface was as composed when he rose up again, one of the servants whohad seen the scuffle said, as if he had never so much as stirred fromhis study; and in his last speeches before his death it was noticedthat his utterance was as slow and deliberate, and his words ascarefully picked, as at any other time of his life. Ah me! what dayswere those when, hardly recovered from my sickness, only enough for tosit up in an armed-chair and be carried from one chamber to another,all the talk ministered about me was of the danger and coming death ofthese dear friends. I had a trouble of mine own, which I be trulyashamed to speak of; but in this narrative I have resolved above allthings to be truthful; and if I have ever had occasion, on theone hand, to relate what should seem to be to mine own credit, on theother also I desire to acknowledge my weaknesses and imperfections, ofwhich what I am about to relate is a notable instance. The small-poxmade me at that time the most deformed person that could be seen, evenafter I was recovered; and the first time I beheld my face in a glass,the horror which it gave me was so great that I resolved Basil shouldnever be the husband of one whom every person which saw her must needsbe affrighted to look on; but, forecasting he would never give me upfor this reason, howsoever his inclination should rebel against thekindness of his heart and his true affection for me, I hastily senthim a letter, in which I said I could give him no cause for the changewhich had happened in me, but that I was resolved not to marry him,acting in my old hasty manner, without thought or prudence. No soonerhad I done so than I grew very uneasy thereat, too late reflecting onwhat his suspicions should be of my inconstancy, and what should tohim appear faithless breach of promise.

  It grieved me, in the midst of such grave events and noble sufferings,to be so concerned for mine own trouble; and on the day before theexecution I was sitting musing painfully on the tragedy which was tobe enacted at our own doors as it were, weeping for the dear friendswhich were to suffer, and ever and anon chewing the cud of my wilfulundoing of mine own, and it might prove of Basil's, future peace by myrash letter to him, and yet more rash concealment of my motives.Whilst I was thus plunged in grief and uneasiness, the door of mychamber of a sudden opened, and the servant announced Mr. HubertRookwood. I hid my face hastily with a veil, which I now did generallyuse, except when alone with Muriel. He came in, and methought a changehad happened in his appearance. He looked somewhat wild anddisordered, and his face flushed as one used to drinking.

  "Constance," he said abruptly, "tidings have reached me which wouldnot suffer me to put off this visit. A man coming from France hathbrought me a letter from Basil, and one directed to you, which hecharged me to deliver into your hands. If it tallies with that whichhe doth write to me--and I doubt not it must be so, for his dealingsare always open and honorable, albeit often rash--I must needs hopefor so much happiness from it as I can scarce credit to be possibleafter so much suffering."

  I stretched out mine hand for Basil's letter. Oh, how the tears gushedfrom mine eyes on the reading of it! He had received mine, and havingheard some time before from a friend he did not name of his brother'spassion for me, he never misdoubted but that I had at last yielded tohis solicitations, and given him the love which I withdrew from him.

  Never was the nobleness of his nature more evinced than in thisletter; never grief more heartfelt, combined with a more patientendurance of the overthrow of his sole earthly happiness; never agreater or more forgiving kindness toward a faithless creature, as hedeemed her, with a lingering care for her weal, whom he must needshave thought so ill deserving of his love. So much sorrow withoutrepining, such strict charges not to marry Hubert if he was not a goodCatholic and truly reconciled to the Church. But if he was indeedchanged in this respect, an assent given to this marriage which hadcost him, he said, many tears and many prayers for to write, more thanif with his own heart's blood he had traced the words; but which,nevertheless, he freely gave, and prayed God to bless us both, if witha good conscience we could be wedded; and God forbid he should hinderit, if I had ceased for to love him, and had given to Hubert--who hadalready got his birthright--also a more precious treasure, the heartonce his own.

  "What doth your brother write to you?" I coldly said; and then Hubertgave me his letter to read.

  Methinks he imagined I concealed my face from some sort of shame; andGod knoweth, had I acted the part he supposed, I might well haveblushed deeper than can be thought of.

  This letter was like unto the other--the most touching proof of lovea man could give for a woman. Forgetting himself, my dearest Basil'sonly care was my happiness; and firm remonstrances were blended withtouching injunctions to his brother to treasure every hair of the headof one who was dearer to him than all the world beside, and to do hisduty to God and to her, which if he observed, he should, mindless ofall else, for ever bless him.

  When I returned the missive to him, Hubert said, in a faltering voice,"Now you are free--free to be mine--free before God and man."

  "Yea," I answered; "free as the dead, for I am henceforward dead toall earthly things."

  "What!" he cried, startled; "your thinking is not, God shield it, tobe a nun abroad?"

  "Nay," I answered; and then, laying my hand on Basil's letter, I said,"If I had thought to marry you, Hubert; if at this hour I should say Icould love you, I ween you would leave the house affrighted, and neverreturn to it again."

  "Is your brain turned?" he impatiently cried.

  "No," I answered quietly, lifting my veil, "my face only is changed."

  I ha
d a sort of bitter pleasure in the sight of his surprise. Heturned as pale as any smock.

  "Oh, fear not," I said; "my heart hath not changed with my face. I amnot in so merry a mood, God knoweth, as to torment you with any suchapprehensions. My love for Basil is the same; yea, rather at thishour, after these noble proofs of his love, more great than ever. Nowyou can discern why I should write to him I would never marry him."

  Hiding his face in his hands, Hubert said, "Would I had not come hereto embitter your pain?"

  "You have not added to my sorrow," I answered; "the chalice is indeedfull, but these letters have rather lightened than increased mysufferings."

  Then concealing again my face, I went on, "O Hubert, will you comehere to-morrow morning? Know you the sight which