or three beds, and these, they do say, but for a time. Whenbusiness requires, I am forced to go on foot, and slenderly attended;my coach being taken from me. I have retained but two of my servants--my children's nurse being one. I have as yet no allowance, as isusual in such cases, for the maintenance of my family; so I am forcedto pay them and buy victuals with the money made by the sale of mineown jewels; and I am sometimes forced to borrow and make hard shiftsto procure necessary provisions and clothes for the children; but if Iget eight pounds a week, which the queen hath been moved to allow me,then methinks I shall think myself no poorer than a Christian womanshould be content to be; and I have promised Almighty God, if thatgood shall befal us, to bestow one hundred marks out of it yearly onthe poor. I am often sent out of London by her majesty's commands,albeit some infirmities I do now suffer from force me to consultphysicians there. Methinks when I am at Arundel House I am not whollyparted from my lord, albeit my humble petition, by means of friends,to see him is always denied. When I hear he is sick, mine anguishincreases. The like favor is often granted to Lady Latimore and otherswhose husbands are at this time prisoners in the Tower, but I cannever obtain it. The lieutenant's daughter, whom I do sometimes see,when she is in a conversible mood doth inform me of my dear husband'scondition, and relates instances of his goodness and patience whichwring and yet comfort mine heart. What think you of his never havingbeen heard so much as once to complain of the loss of his goods or theincommodities of his prison; of his gentleness and humility where heis himself concerned; of his boldness in defending his religion andher ministers, which was alike shown, as well as his naturalcheerfulness, in a conversation she told me had passed between herfather, the lieutenant, and him, a few days ago? You have heard, Iween, that good Father Southwell was arrested some time back at Mr.Bellamy's house; it is reported by means of the poor unhappy soul hisdaughter, whom I met one day at the door of the prison, attired in agaudy manner and carrying herself in a bold fashion; but when she metmine eye hers fell. Alas! poor soul, God help her and bring her torepentance. Well, now Father Southwell is in the Tower, my lord, byMiss Hopton's melons, hath had once or twice speech with him, and dothoften inquire of the lieutenant about him, which when he did so theother day he used the words 'blessed father' in speaking of him. Thelieutenant (she said) seemed to take exception thereat, saying, 'Termyou him blessed father, being as he is an enemy to his country?' Mylord answered: 'How can that be, seeing yourself hath told meheretofore that no fault could be laid unto him but his religion?'Then the lieutenant said: 'The last time I was in his cell your dog,my lord, came in and licked his hand,' Then quoth my lord,patting his dog fondly: 'I love him the better for it.' 'Perhaps,'quoth the lieutenant in a scoffing manner, it might be he came thitherto have his blessing.' To which my lord replied, 'It is no new thingfor animals to seek a blessing at the hands of holy men, St. Jeromewriting how the lions which had digged St. Paul the hermit's gravestood waiting with their eyes upon St. Anthony expecting hisblessing.'
'Is it not a strange trial, mine own Constance, and one which hath notbefallen many women, to have a fondly loved husband yet alive, and tobe sometimes so near unto him that it should take but a few moments tocross the space which doth divide us, and yet never behold him; yearafter year passing away, and the heart waxing sick with delays?Howsoever, one sad firm hope I hold, which keepeth me somewhat carefulof my health, lest I should be disabled when that time cometh--one onwhich I fix my mind with apprehension and desire to defer the approachthereof, yet pray one day to see it--yea, to live long enough for thisand then to die, if it shall please God. When mine own Philip is onhis death-bed, when the slow consumptive disease which devoureth hisvitals obtaineth its end, then, I ween, no woman upon earth, none thatI ever heard of or could think of, can deny me to approach him andreceive his last embrace. Oh that this should be my best comfort, mineonly hope!"
I pass over many intervening letters from this afflicted lady which atdistant intervals I received, in one of which she expressed her sorrowat the execution at Tyburn of her constant friend and guide, FatherSouthwell, and likewise informed me of Mistress Wells's death inNewgate, and transcribe this one, written about six months afterward,in which she relates the closing scene of her husband's life:
"MINE OWN DEAR CONSTANCE--All is over now, and my overcharged heartcasteth about for some alleviation in its excessive grief, which maybe I shall find in imparting to one well acquainted with his virtuesand my love for him what I have learnt touching the closing scenes ofmy dear lord's mortal life. For think not I have been so happy as tobehold him again, or that he should die in my arms. No; that which wasdenied me for ten long years neither could his dying prayers obtain.For many months notice had been given unto me by his servants andothers that his health was very fast declining. One gentlemanparticularly told me he himself believed his end to be near. Hisdevout exercises were yet increased--the bent of his mind more andmore directed solely toward God and heaven. In those times which wereallotted to walking or other recreation, his discourse andconversation either with his keeper or the lieutenant or his ownservant, was either tending to piety or some kind of profitablediscourse, most often of the happiness of those that suffer anythingfor our Saviour's sake; to which purpose he had writ with his own handupon the wall of his chamber this Latin sentence, 'Quanto plusafflictionis pro Christo in hoc saeculo, tanto plus gloriae cumChristo in futuro;' the which he used to show to his servants,inviting them, as well as himself, to suffer all with patience andalacrity.
"In the month of August tidings were brought unto me that, sitting atdinner, he had fallen so very ill immediately upon the eating of aroasted teal, that some did suspect him to be poisoned. I sent himsome antidotes, and all the remedies I could procure; but all in vain.The disease had so possessed him that it could not be removed, but bylittle and little consumed his body, so that he became like ananatomy, having nothing left but skin and bone. Much talk hath beenministered anent his being poisoned. Alas! my thinking is, and evershall be, the slow poison he died of was lack of air, of sunshine, ofkindness, of loving aid, of careful sympathy. When I heard hiscase was considered desperate, the old long hopes, sustained for tenyears, that out of the extremity of grief one hour of comfort shouldarise, woke up; but now I was advised not to stir in this mattermyself, for it should only incense the queen, who had always hated me;whereas my lord she once had liked, and it might be, when she heard hewas dying, she should relent. She had made a kind of promise to someof his friends that before his death his wife and children should comeunto him; whereupon, conceiving that now his time in the world couldnot be long, he writ a humble letter to her petitioning theperformance of her promise. The lieutenant of the Tower carried thisletter, and delivered it with his own hands to the queen, and broughthim her answer by word of mouth. What think you, mine own Constance,was the answer she sent that dying man? God forgave her! Philip did;yea, and so do I--not fully at the time, now most fully. His crownshould have been less glorious but for the heart-martyrdom sheinvented.
"This was her message: 'That if he would but once go to the Protestantchurch his request should not only be granted, but he should moreoverbe restored to his honor and estate with as much favor as she couldshow.' Oh, what were estates and honors to that dying saint! what herfavor to that departing soul! One offering, one sacrifice, one finalwithdrawing of affection's thirsty and parched lips from the chaliceof a supreme earthly consolation, and all was accomplished; thebitterness of death overpast. He gave thanks to the lieutenant for hispains; he said he could not accept her majesty's offers upon thatcondition, and added withal that he was sorry he had but one life tolose in that cause. A very worthy gentleman who was present at thispassage related it to me; and Lord Mountague I have also had it from,which heard the same from his father-in-law, my Lord Dorset.Constance, for a brief while a terrible tumult raged in my soul. Thinkwhat it was to know one so long, so passionately loved, dying nighonto and yet apart from me, dying unaided by any priest--for though hehad a great desire to be ass
isted by Father Edmund, by whose means hehad been reconciled, it was by no means permitted that either he orany other priest should come to him--dying without a kindred face tosmile on him, without a kinsman for to speak with him and list to hislast wishes. He desired to see his brother William or his uncle LordHenry; at least to take his last leave of them before his death; butneither was that small request granted--no, not so much as to see hisbrother Thomas, though both then and ever he had been a Protestant.And all this misery was the fruit of one stem, cruel, unbendinghatred--of one proud human will; a will which was sundering what Godhad joined together. Like a bird against the bars of an iron cage, mypoor heart dashed itself with wild throbbings against these humanobstacles. But not for very long, I thank God; brief was the
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