Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century

by Georgiana Fullerton

havingheard that a good clergyman hath taken this task in hand, secretlypreparing materials whilst she yet lives wherewith to build her amemorial at a future time, I have restrained myself to setting downwhat, by means of her own writing or the reports of others, hathreached my knowledge concerning the ten years which followed my lastparting with her. This was the first letter I received from thisafflicted lady after her lord's arrest:

  "O MY DEAR FRIEND--What days these have proved! Believe me, I never looked for a favorable issue of this enterprise. When I first had notice thereof, a notable chill fell on my soul, which never warmed again with hope. When I began to pray after hearing of it, I had what methinks the holy Juliana of Norwich (whose cell we did once visit together, as I doubt not thou dost remember) would have called a foreshowing, or, as others do express it, a presentiment of coming evil. But how soon the effect followed! I had retired to rest at nine of the clock; and before I was undressed Bertha came in with a most downcast countenance. 'What news is there?' I quickly asked, misdoubting some misfortune had happened. Then she began to weep. 'Is my lord taken?' I cried, 'or worse befallen him?' 'He is taken,' she answered, 'and is now being carried to London for to be committed to the Tower. Master Ralph, the port-master, hath brought the news. A man, an hour ago, had reported as much in the town; but Mr. Fawcett would not suffer your ladyship to be told of it before a greater certainty thereof should appear. O woe be the day my lord ever embarked!' Then I heard sounds of wailing and weeping in the gallery; and opening the door, found Bessy's nurse and some other of the servants lamenting in an uncontrolled fashion. I could not shed one tear, but gave orders they should fetch unto me the man which had brought the tidings. From him I heard more fully what had happened; and then, in the same composed manner, desired my coach and horses for to be made ready to take me to London the next day at daybreak, and dismissed everybody, not suffering so much as one woman to sit up with me. When all had retired, I put on my cloak and hood; and listing first if all was quiet, went by the secret passage to the chapel-room. When I got there, Father Southwell was in it, saying his office. When he saw me enter at that unusual hour, methinks the truth was made known to him at once; for he only took me by the hand, and said: 'My child, this would be too hard to bear if it were not God's sweet will; but being so, what remaineth but to lie still under a Father's merciful infliction?' and then he took out the crucifix, which for safety was locked up, and set it on the altar. 'That shall speak to you better than I can,' he said; and verily it did; for at the sight of my dying Saviour I wept. The whole night was spent in devout exercises. At dawn of day Father Southwell said mass, and I received. Then, before any one was astir, I returned to mine own chamber, and, lying down for a few moments, afterward rung the bell, and ordered horses to be procured for to travel to London, whence I write these lines. I have here heard this report of my dear lord's journey from one which conversed with Sir George Carey, who commanded the guard which conducted him, that he was nothing at all daunted with so unexpected a misfortune, and not only did endure it with great patience and courage, but, moreover, carried it with a joyful and merry countenance. One night in the way he lodged at Guildford, where seeing the master of the inn (who sometime was our servant, and who hath written it to one of my women, his sister), and some others who wished well unto him, weeping and sorrowing for his misfortunes, he comforted them all, and willed them to be of good cheer, because it was not for any crime--treason or the like--he was apprehended, but only for attempting to leave the kingdom, the which he had done only for his own safety. He is soon to be examined by some of the council sent to the Tower for this special purpose by the queen. I have sought to obtain access to him, but been flatly reused, and a hint ministered to me that albeit my residence at Arundel House is tolerated at the present, if the queen should come to stay at Somerset House, which she is soon like to do, my departure hence shall be enforced; but while I remain I would fain do some good to persons afflicted as myself. I pray you, my good Constance, when you find some means to despatch me a letter, therewith to send the names and addresses of some of the poor folks Muriel was wont to visit; for I am of opinion grief should not make us selfish, but rather move us to relieve in others the pains of which we feel the sharp edge ourselves. I have already met by accident with many necessitous persons, and they do begin in great numbers to resort to this house. God knoweth if the means to relieve them will not be soon lacking. But to make hay whilst the sun shines is a wise saying, and in some instances a precept. Alas! the sunshine of joy is already obscured for me. Except for these poor pensioners, that of fortune causeth me small concern.-- Thy loving friend, A. A. and S."

  "Will and Meg are at present in separate prisons. It is impossible butthat she shall be presently released; for against her nothing can bealleged, so much as to give a pretence for an accusation. My lord andWill's joint letter to Dr. Allen, sent by Mr. Brydges--who, out ofconfidence, mentioned it to Mr. Gifford, a pretended priest, who livesat Paris, and is now discovered to be a spy--is the ground of thecharges against them. How utterly unfounded thou well knowest; but somuch as to write to Dr. Allen is now a crime, howsoever innocent thematter of such a correspondence should be. I do fear that in one ofhis letters--but I wot not if of this they have possession--my lord,who had just heard that the Earl of Leicester had openly vowed to makethe name of Catholic as odious in England as the name of Turk, didsay, in manner of a jest, that if some lawful means might be found totake away this earl, it would be a great good for Catholics inEngland; which careless sentence may be twisted by his enemies to hisdisadvantage."

  Some time afterward, a person passing from London to Rheims, broughtme this second letter from her ladyship, written at Rumford, in Essex:

  "What I have been warned of verily hath happened. Upon the queen'scoming to London last month, it was signified to me I should leave it.Now that Father Southwell hath been removed from Arundel Castle, andno priest at this time can live in it, I did not choose to bedelivered there, without the benefit of spiritual assistance in caseof danger of death, and so hired a house in this town, at a shortdistance of which a recusant gentleman doth keep one in his house. Icame from London without obtaining leave so much as once to see mydear husband, or to send him a letter or message, or receive one fromhim. But this I have learnt, that he cannot speak with any personwhatsoever but in the presence and hearing of his keeper or thelieutenant of the Tower, and that the room in which he is locked uphas no sight of the sun for the greatest part of the year; so that ifnot changed before the winter cometh it shall prove very unwholesome;and moreover the noisomeness thereof caused by a vault that is underit is so great that the keeper can scarce endure to enter into it,much less to stay there any time. Alas! what ravages shall thistreatment cause on a frame of great niceness and delicate habits, Ileave you to judge. By this time he hath been examined twice; andalbeit forged letters were produced, the falsity of which the councilwere forced to admit, and he was charged with nothing which could besubstantiated, except leaving the realm without license of the queen,and being reconciled to the Church of Rome, his sentence is yetdeferred, and his imprisonment as strict as ever. I pray God it maynot be deferred till his health is utterly destroyed, which, I doubtnot, is what his enemies would most desire.

  "Last evening I had the exceeding great comfort of the coming hitherof mine own dear good Meg, who hath been some time released fromprison, with many vexatious restraints, howsoever, still laid uponher. Albeit very much advanced in her pregnancy, nothing would serveher when she had leave to quit London but to do me this good. This isthe first taste of joy I have had since my lord's commitment. In herface I behold his; when she speaks I hear him. No talk is ministeredbetween us but of that beloved husband and brother; our common prayersare put up for him. She hath spied his spies for to discover all whichrelates to him, and hath found means to convey to him--I thank God forit--some books of devotion, which he greatly needed. She is yet
a-bedthis morning, for we sat up late yester-eve, so sweet, albeit sad, wasthe converse we held after so many common sufferings. But methinks Igrudge her these hours of sleep, longing for to hear again those lovedaccents which mind me of my dear Phil.

  "My pen had hardly traced those last words, when a messenger arrivedfrom the council with an express command to Margaret from her majestynot to stay with me another night, but forthwith to return to London.The surprise and fear which this message occasioned hastened the eventwhich should have yet been delayed some weeks. A few hours after (Ithank God, in safety) a fair son was born; but in the mother's heartand mine apprehension dispelled joy, lest enforced disobedience shouldproduce fresh troubles. Howsoever, she recovered quickly; and as soonas she could be removed I lost her sweet company. Thine