CHAPTER FIVE.
GATHERING CLOUDS.
"God lays His burden on each back; But who What is within the pack May know?"
Half of the reign of Josiah, as his people loved to call him, was runout in the summer of 1550. The breathing-time of hope was nearly over.
A June morning in that summer found Isoult Avery seated by the window atwork, and Robin Tremayne holding a book which he was _not_ reading. Hiseyes were intently watching the light feathery clouds which floatedacross the blue space beyond, and his thoughts were equally intent onsome subject not yet apparent. Except Walter, who was busy in thecorner, manufacturing paper boats, there was no one else in the room.
Robin broke the silence, and rather suddenly.
"Mother,"--he had come to call her so,--"what think you of Mr Rose?"
"What think I of him, Robin?" repeated Isoult, looking up, while a faintexpression of surprise crossed her gentle countenance. "Why, he likethme very well!"
"And what think you of Mrs Rose, Mother?"
The surprise increased in Isoult's look, and it was accompanied now byperplexity. But she only answered--
"She liketh me only less than her husband. I would she had beenEnglish-born, but that cannot she well help; and I have none other faultto find with her."
"And what think you, Mother, of Mrs Thekla?"
Robin said this in a very low voice. Dr Thorpe was coming in as hespoke, and the old man turned and faced round on the lad.
"O ho!" cried the Doctor, "blows the wind from that quarter?"
Apparently it did so, for Robin coloured scarlet.
"Come, come, lad!" said he, "thou art but now out of thyswaddling-clothes, and what dost thou with such gear? Put it away, andgo whip thy top, like a good lad!"
"Dr Thorpe!" said Robin in an aggrieved voice, and drawing himself tohis utmost height, "I was nineteen years of age last Saint Agnes!"[January 21.]
"Thou art as many years of discretion as there be crowns o' the sun[Note 1] in a halfpenny," said he. "Nineteen, quotha! Why, thou idlehilding [youth], I have years sixty-nine, and I never thought ofmarrying yet."
Isoult laughed, but Robin was grave as a bishop, and plainly deemedhimself affronted.
"That is your affair, Dr Thorpe," said he, demurely, "and this is mine,an't like you."
"A pretty plain hint to mind mine own business, whether it like me orno," replied the old man, with a little merry laugh. "Well, Robin, hieafter. Are ye agreed? and is the wedding-day fixed? Shall it beMidsummer Day? Give me a jolly piece of the cake, as what else thoudost; and Isoult! mind thou set it mighty thick with plums."
"Dr Thorpe," said Robin, his patience woefully tried, "I wish you wouldlet me be. I was talking with my mother."
"Say on!" answered he. "I will strive hard to set mine old legsa-dancing at thy wedding, though I promise not a galliardo [a dancewherein high leaps were taken, requiring great agility]. My word on't,it shall be a jovial sight! Hast seen the tailor touching thine attire?Purple satin, or cramoisie?" [Crimson velvet.]
Robin's forbearance was plainly worn out. He rose and walked toward thedoor.
"Nay, lad, come!" called the old man. "I meant not in deed to grievethee. Come back, Robin, and I will cease flouting thee, if it troublethee. Come back, thou silly child!"
Robin turned back, after a moment's thought, and sat down on the settlehe had left.
"I take your word for it, Dr Thorpe," he said, soberly. "But think youit not too grave a matter for jesting?"
"Grave!" cried Dr Thorpe. "What, wouldst thou have it spoken of like anexecution?"
"I cry you mercy, Doctor," said Isoult, now joining in; "but in thismatter I do take part with Robin. It alway seemeth me that men (ay, andwomen too), do speak with too much jesting and lightness touching thismatter, which should be right serious. A man's choice of a wife is achoice for life, and is hardly to be talked of, meseemeth, in the samefashion with his choice of a partlet [neck ruff]. I pray you, pardon meif in so speaking, I fail aught in the reverence due unto your years."
"Why, dear child," saith he, "thou wist more of the matter than I, whichwas never married; so talk away, and I will hold my peace, and troublemy master the bridegroom no further. Say on, Mr Robert Tremayne."
"Methinks enough is said," answered Robin, staidly. "I await mymother's answer."
"Which may scarce be given in a moment, Robin," said Isoult, "norwithout talk with mine husband thereupon. Moreover, Mr Rose shall havea word to say touching the matter."
John was hardly allowed to speak on his return from the law courts,before he had heard Isoult's story. He received the news at first assomething irresistibly comic, but the next minute he grew grave, andevidently began to consider the matter seriously.
"I would fain hear thy thought hereon, Jack," said his wife, "formethinks I do see in Robin his manner that this is no lad's fantasyonly, as Dr Thorpe did suppose, but a set purpose, that must be fairlyfaced, and said yea or nay to."
"We must not forget, dear heart," was John's answer, "that though we areunto him in place of elders [parents], Robin is truly his own master,even afore he be of full age. He is not our ward in law, neither inarticles nor apprenticeship; and he hath but himself to please. Andeven were we to let [hinder] him now (when I doubt not his naturalkindly and obedient feeling for us should cause him to assent thereto),yet bethink thee that in a year and an half, when he cometh to hismature age, he shall be at liberty in every way. There be many husbandsin the realm younger than he; and truly, I see no way but leaving him tohis will, so soon only as we can be satisfied that it is no mere passingfantasy that swayeth him, but that his heart and mind are verily set andengaged therein. Remember, we have no right over him; and think yetagain, that his choice (so far as I am able to judge) is a thorough goodone. I see not what else may be done."
"But he did refer him unto our judgment by asking me thereon," saidIsoult.
"Truth," he answered; "wherein he showed his own judgment and wisdom,and himself to be a good and gentle lad, as he is alway. The morereason, sweet heart, that our judgment should be gracious, and shouldlean unto his wishes, so far as we may in right dealing and love untohimself consent thereto. And in good sooth, I see no cause fordissent."
"Then," said Isoult, somewhat surprised, though she scarcely knew whyshe should have expected any other decision, "thou wilt speak unto MrRose?"
"Certainly," said he, "if Robin desire it."
"And we really shall have a wedding!" said Isoult.
"I said not that, dear heart," answered John, smiling.
"Mr Rose may refuse consent; or were he to give it, methinks I shouldallgates [at all events] move (wherein I would look for Rose to agreewith me) that it should not be by and bye [immediately]; but to waituntil Robin be fairly settled in his calling."
The calling which Robin had chosen was holy orders. He was studyingdivinity, and Bishop Ridley had already promised to ordain him when heshould arrive at the proper age, if he were satisfied as to his fitnesson examination. Mr Rose directed his reading--a fact which had causedhim to be thrown rather more into Thekla's society than he mightotherwise have been, in his frequent visits to West Ham, and occasionalwaiting required when the Vicar happened to be absent. "But, Jack!"cried Isoult, with a sudden pang of fear, "supposing that the King wereto die issueless (as God defend!) and the Lady Mary to come in, and setup again the mass, and--"
"And the Bloody Statute," he answered, reading her thought. "Then weshould have a second Walter Mallet."
"And Thekla to be Grace!" murmured Isoult, her voice faltering. "OJack, that were dreadful! Could we do nought to let it?"
"Yes," he said in a constrained tone. "We might do two things to letit. Either to hinder their marriage, or to let Robin from receivingorders."
"But thinkest thou we ought so?"
"I think, sweet wife," answered he, tenderly, "that we ought to followGod's leading. He can let either; and if He see it best, wheth
er forRobin or for Thekla, that will He. But for myself, I do confess I amafeard of handling His rod. I dare not walk unless I see Him goingafore. And here, beloved, I see not myself that He goeth afore, exceptto bid us leave things take their course. Dost thou?"
"I see nothing," she answered; "I feel blind and in a maze touching itall."
"Then," said he, "let us `tarry the Lord's leisure.'"
It was finally settled between John and Isoult that the former shouldsee Mr Rose after the evening service on the following Sunday, when hewas to preach at Bow Church, and speak to him on the subject of Robinand Thekla. So after the service they all returned home but John; andthough no one told Robin why he stayed behind, Isoult fancied from thelad's face that he guessed the cause. It was a long time before John'sreturn. Isoult dismissed Esther to bed, determining to wait herself;and with some indistinct observation about "young folk that could turnnight into day," Dr Thorpe took up his candle and trudged up-stairsalso. Robin sat on; and Isoult had not the heart to say anything tohim; for she saw that his thoughts were at Bow Church, not occupied withthe copy of Latimer's sermon on the Plough, which lay open before him.
At last John came, with a slow, even step, from which his wife auguredill before he entered the room. He smiled when he saw Robin stillthere.
"Ill news, Father!" said Robin. "You need not to tell me."
"Thou art a sely prophet, lad," answered John, kindly. "At this time Ihave no news at all for thee, neither good nor ill, only that Mr Rosegiveth no absolute nay, and doth but undertake to think upon the matter,and discourse with Mrs Rose. Is that such ill news, trow?"
"Thank you," answered Robin in a low voice. "You did your best, I know.Good-night."
And he lifted his candle and departed. But Isoult thought the ladlooked sad and disappointed; and she was sorry for him.
"Well, Jack, how spedst thou?" said she, when Robin was gone.
"Ah, grandmother Eva!" replied Jack, smiling. "Wouldst know all?"
"Now, Jack!" said she, "flout me not for my womanly curiosity, but tellme. I am but a woman."
"Pure truth, dear heart," answered he, yet smiling. "Well, I had toawait a short space, for I found Thekla with her father, and I could notopen the matter afore her. So at last I prayed her of leave [asked herto go] (seeing no other way to be rid of her), for I would speak with MrRose privily. Then went she presently away, and I brake Robin'smatter."
"And what said he?"
"He looked more amazed than thou; and trust me that was no little."
"But what said he?" repeated Isoult.
"He said he had never thought touching the marriage of Thekla, for helooked thereon until now as a thing afar off, like as we of Robin. But(quoth he) he did suppose in all likelihood she should leave himsometime, if God willed it thus; but it should be sore when it came.And the water stood in his eyes."
"Looked he thereon kindly or no, thinkest?"
"I am somewhat doubtful," and John dropped his voice, "though I wouldnot say so much to Robin, whether or no he looketh kindly on hermarrying at all. Thou wist, sweet heart, for thou heardst him to say somuch,--that he hath some thought that there shall yet be greatpersecution in this land, and that Gospellers shall (in a worldly andtemporal sense) come but ill off. And to have Thekla wife unto apriest--I might see it liked him very evil for her sake. Yet hedimitted it not lightly, but passed word to talk it over with his wife:but he said he would never urge Thekla to wed any, contrariwise unto herown fantasy."
The Monday morning brought Mrs Rose. Isoult felt glad, when she sawher, that John had taken Robin with him to Westminster. The two ladieshad a long private conference in Isoult's closet or boudoir. Mrs Roseevidently was not going to stand in the way; she rather liked theproposed match. She had strongly urged her husband to tell Thekla,which, against his own judgment, he had at last consented to do. ForThekla's mother regarded her as a marvel of wisdom and discretion, whileher father, being himself a little wiser, thought less of her wonderfulpowers, though he admitted that she was very sensible--for her years.
"She is a good child--Thekla," said Mrs Rose, in her foreign manner; "agood child--but she dreameth too much. She is not for the life, rathera dreamer. She would read a great book each day sooner than to spin.But she doth the right; she knoweth that she must to spin, and she spin.But she carrieth her thoughts up a great way off, into strange gearwhither I cannot follow. See you, Mistress Avery, how I would say? I,I am a plain woman: I make the puddings, I work the spinning--and I lovethe work. Thekla, she only work the spinning and make the puddings,because she must to do it. She will do the right, alway, but she willnot love the work."
Isoult quite understood her, and so she told her.
"She do not come after me in her liking," pursued she, "rather it is herfather. And it is very good, very good to read the great books, andlook at the stars, and to talk always of what the great people do, andof what mean the prophet by this, and the saint by that: but for me itis too much. I do not know what the great people should do. I make mypuddings. The great people must go their own way. They not want mypudding, and I not want their great things. But Thekla and Mr Rose areboth so good! Only, when they talk together, they sit both of them onthe top of my head; I am down beneath, doing my spinning."
Nothing more was heard until Wednesday. Then, before Isoult was down inthe morning, having apparently risen at some unearthly hour, Mr Rosepresented himself, and asked for John. The two went out of doorstogether, to Robin's deep concern, and not much less to Isoult's, forshe had her full share of womanly curiosity in an innocent way.
At last she saw them come up the street, in earnest conversation. Andas John turned in at the door (for Mr Rose would not follow) she heardhim say almost mournfully, "Alack! then there is no likelihood thereof.Good morrow!"
"Not the least," Mr Rose replied; and then away he went down the street.
"An augury of evil!" murmured Robin, under his breath.
"What dost thou with evil this morrow, Robin?" asked John, cheerily,coming into the room. "Be of good cheer, dear lad; the Lord sittethabove all auguries, and hath granted thee the desire of thine heart."
Robin rose, and the light sprang to his eyes.
"Thekla Rose," pursued John, "seeth no good cause why she should notchange her name to Tremayne. But bide a minute, Robin, man; thou artnot to be wed to-morrow morning. Mr Rose addeth a condition which Idoubt not shall stick in thy throat."
"What?" said Robin, turning round, for he was on his way to leave theroom.
"But this," said John, lightly, "that will soon be over. Ye are not towed for three years."
Robin's face fell with a look as blank as though it had been thirtyyears.
"How now?" asked Dr Thorpe, coming in from the barber. "Sir Tristramlooketh as woebegone as may lightly be. I am afeard the Princess Isoudehath been sore cruel."
John told him the reason.
"And both be such ancient folk," resumed he, "they are afeard to be deadand buried ere then. How now, Robin! take heart of grace, man! and makea virtue of necessity. Thou art neither seventy nor eighty, nor isMistress Thekla within a month or twain of ninety. Good lack! a bit ofa younker of nineteen, quotha, to be a-fretting and a-fuming to be letfrom wedding a smatchet of a lass of seventeen or so, until either havepicked up from some whither a scrap of discretion on their greenshoulders!"
"Thekla hath but sixteen years," said John; "and Rose thinketh her tooyoung to be wed yet."
"So should any man with common sense," replied Dr Thorpe. "Why, lad!what can a maid of such tender years do to rule an house? I warrantthee she should serve thy chicken at table with all the feathers on, andamend thy stockings wrong side afore!"
"Nay," said Isoult, laughing; "her mother shall have learned hersomething better than that."
"Get thee to thine accidence," said Dr Thorpe to Robin. "_Hic, haec,hoc_, is a deal meeter for the like o' thee than prinking of weddingdoublets!"
"Dr Th
orpe!" answered Robin, aggrievedly, "you alway treat me as thoughI were a babe."
"So thou art! so thou art!" said the old man. "But now out of thycradle, and not yet fit to run alone; for do but see what folly thouhadst run into if Jack and Mr Rose had not been wiser than thou!"
Robin's lip trembled, and he walked slowly away. Isoult was sorry forthe lad's disappointment, for she saw that it was sore; yet she feltthat John and Mr Rose were right, and even Dr Thorpe.
"Rose saith," resumed John, "that he thinketh not his daughter to be asyet of ripe judgment enough to say more than shall serve for the time;and he will therefore have no troth plighted for this present. In goodsooth, had not her mother much urged the consulting of her, methinks heshould rather have said nought unto her of the matter. `But (quoth he)let three years pass, in the which time Robin shall have yearstwenty-two, and Thekla nineteen; and if then both be of like mind, why,I will say no further word against it.'"
"Bits o' scraps o' childre!" said Dr Thorpe, under his voice, in a toneof scorn and yet pity which would sorely have grieved Robin, had he notgone already.
"Be not too hard on the lad, old friend," urged John, gently. "Manyyounger than he be wed daily, and I take it he hath had a disappointmentin hearing my news. I thought best not to make too much thereof in thetelling; but scorn not the lad's trouble."
"I want not to scorn neither the lad nor the trouble," answered theDoctor. "I did but tell him it was folly; and so it is."
After this, for a while, there were fewer visits exchanged between theMinories and West Ham; and Robin found himself quietly set to the studyof larger books, which took longer to get up than heretofore, so thathis appearances at the Vicarage were fewer also. When the families didmeet, it was as cordially as ever. Manifestly, Mr Rose's feelings werenot a whit less kindly than before; but he thought it better for Robinthat his affections should not be fed too freely.
"Jack," said Isoult, suddenly, "what discoursedst thou with Mr Rose o'Wednesday morn, whereof I heard thee to say there was no likelihood?Was it touching this matter of Robin?"
John had to search his memory before he could recall the incident.
"Dear heart, no!" he said, when he had done so; "it touched my Lord ofSomerset."
On the last day of July, Esther, going to the market, came in with newswhich stirred Isoult's heart no little. Thomas Wriothesley, Earl ofSouthampton, had died on the previous day, at his house in London, towhich he had been confined by order of the King.
"An ill man and an unkindly," wrote Isoult in the diary she always kept,"specially unto them which loved the Gospel. But how those tidingstaketh me back to the days that be over and gone! For the last timethat ever I saw this man was that black third of March, the year of ourLord 1542, when the King that then was, sent him to bear his diamond andmessage unto my dear master [Lord Lisle] in the Tower. Can I everforget that even?
"Of this Thomas Wriothesley I dare say nothing. I would think rather ofhim whose voice I did hear last after his, in the commending of hisblessed and gentle spirit into the hands of God. How many timessithence that day have I thanked God for him! Ay, Lord, we thank Theefor Thy saints, and for Thy care and guidance of them. For the longer Ido live, the surer am I that Thy way Home is not only the right way, butfor each of Thine, the only way. I take it, we shall not think of thethorns that tare us, nor shall we be ready for tears over the sharpstones that wounded us, in that day when I and my dear-loved Lord maysing to Thee together--`Thou hast redeemed us, O Lord God of truth!'"
Mrs Underhill walked into the Lamb, one warm afternoon in the beginningof August, and remained to four-hours. And of course the conversationturned before long upon the Protestant controversy with Rome. In theHot Gospeller's family, it rarely kept off that subject for many minutestogether.
"Mother!" said Kate, when she was gone, "what meaneth Mistress Underhillby confession? She said it was bad. But it is not bad, is it, for meto tell you and Father when I have done wrong?"
"No, sweeting, neither to tell God," answered Isoult. "Mrs Underhillmeant not that, but spake only of confession unto a priest."
"Thou must know, Kate," explained Robin, "that some men will tell theirsins unto any priest, in the stead of seeking forgiveness of God intheir own chamber."
"But what toucheth it the priest?" asked the child.
"Why, never a whit," he answered.
"If the man have stole from the priest," resumed she, "it were right heshould tell him; like as I tell Father and Mother if I have done anywrong, because it is wrong to them. But if I had disobeyed Mother, whatgood were it that I should ask Mr Rose to forgive me? I should not havewronged him."
"She hath a brave wit, methinks, our Kate," observed Isoult to Robin,when the child had left the room.
Robin assented with a smile; but Dr Thorpe was so rude as to say, "Allmothers' geese be swans."
The smile on Robin's lips developed into laughter; Isoult answered, withas much indignant emphasis as her gentle nature could indulge in, "Wereyou no swan to yours, Dr Thorpe?"
Dr Thorpe's reply disarmed all the enemy's forces.
"Ah, child, I never knew her," the old man said, sadly. "Maybe I hadbeen a better man had I known a mother."
It was not in Isoult Avery, at least, to respond angrily to such aspeech as that.
Before mid-winter was reached, the swans were increased by one in thehouse in the Minories. On the 29th of November, a baby daughter wasborn to John and Isoult Avery; and on the 4th of December the child waschristened at Saint Botolph's, Mr Rose officiating. The name given herwas Frances. The sponsors were the Duchess of Suffolk, for whom MrsRose stood proxy; and Lady Frances Monke, whose deputy was MrsUnderhill; and, last and greatest, the young King, by Sir HumphreyRatcliffe, Captain of the Gentlemen Pensioners, and a Gospeller. Themania for asking persons of distinction to stand as sponsors was at itsheight during the reigns of the Tudor sovereigns. Every one of them wasgodfather or godmother to countless multitudes of his or her subjects,though they rarely, if ever, acted in person. We shall find on a laterpage, that even "the nine days' queen," Lady Jane Grey, was not withoutthis distinction during her momentary reign.
During the illness of Isoult--for she was so ill that for some days DrThorpe considered her life in danger--the breach, if it may be calledso, with West Ham was made up. Both Mr and Mrs Rose were in constantattendance at the Minories, and Thekla came with them several times, hercharge being the children, so that Esther might be entirely free to waiton her sick mistress. The subject was not discussed again, but fromthis date, on both sides, it appeared to be quietly taken for grantedthat Robin and Thekla henceforward belonged to each other. TheUnderhills, too, were very kind, Mrs Underhill undertaking to sit upwith her invalid friend for several nights.
On the 13th of February 1551, Dr Gardiner was fully deprived of hisbishopric. The Gospellers hoped it was for ever, but it will shortly beseen how deceived they were.
And at Easter the holy table in Saint Paul's Cathedral was carried downbelow the veil that had been hung up to hide from the non-communicantsthe consecration of the elements, and set north and south; for, as yet,the customary place of the table was east and west.
Strange tales were told this Lent of fearful and marvellous visions andsights seen by many persons. Beside Merton Abbey, and in other places,men in armour were seen in the air, who came down to the earth andfaded; and in Sussex were three suns shining at once. John Avery madehimself merry over these rumours, in which he had no faith. "The threesuns," said he, "were but some matter of optical philosophy, which couldreadily be expounded of such as were learned in it; and for the men inarmour, when he saw them he would believe them." Dr Thorpe consideredthe wonderful sights omens of coming ill, but from Esther they won veryscant respect.
In May the party from the Lamb dined with Mr Holland, at whose housethey met Mr Rose, and Mr and Mrs Underhill. The last-named gentlemancould talk of nothing but the expected marriage of the young King with aPrinces
s of France. This Princess was the hapless Elizabeth, afterwardsaffianced to Don Carlos, and eventually married to his father, thewretched Philip the Second. At this time she was just five years old.
"But," said Isoult, "she shall be a Papist, trow?"
"She shall be a Papist of mighty few years old," said Mr Underhill,laughing; "and we will quickly make a Protestant of her. I hear she isa mighty pretty child, her hair dark and shining, her eyes wondrousbright, and her smile exceeding sweet."
"Sweeter than Thekla Rose's?" asked Mrs Underhill, herself smiling.
"Scantly, methinks," answered Mr Underhill. "How like to a man'sfantasy of an angel doth that maid look!"
Robin looked very unlike an angel, for he appeared extremelyuncomfortable, but he said nothing.
From the King's marriage they came to that of the Princess Mary; and MrUnderhill--who, being a Gentleman Pensioner, with friends at Court, wasallowed to speak with authority--gave the name of her projectedbridegroom as "the Lord Lewis of Portugal. Wherein," pursued he,"Father Rose and I may amend our differences, seeing that she shouldfirst be called to renounce the succession."
Mr Rose smiled, and said, "A happy ending of a troublous matter, if itwere so."
But, as the reader well knows, the troublous matter was not doomed tohave so happy an end.
The next topic was the new Act to allow the marriage of priests. Allthe party being Gospellers, were, of course, unanimous upon thissubject. But Mr Underhill, who was not in the family secrets,unfortunately took it into his head to clap Robin rather smartly on theback, and congratulate him that he might now be a priest without beingnecessarily a bachelor. Poor Robin looked unhappy again, but stillwisely remained silent, not relishing the opening of the subject in MrRose's presence. But Mr Rose only smiled, and quietly suggested that itwould be well for Mr Underhill to satisfy himself that he was not makinghis friends sorrier instead of merrier, by coming down upon them withsuch personal assaults. John, by way of corollary, intimated in anaside to Isoult, that the gentleman in question "had a sore heavy handwhen he was in right earnest."
The night after this day was one not soon forgotten in London. In thestill darkness came an earthquake--that most terrible of phenomena heldin God's hand, whereby He saith to poor, puny, arrogant man, "Be still,and know that I am God." Isoult awoke to hear sounds on all sides ofher--the bed creaking, and below the dishes and pans dancing with anoisy clatter. In the next chamber she heard Walter crying, and Kateasking if the end of all the world were come; but John would not permither to rise and go to them. And she also heard Esther talking with themand comforting them in a low voice, so she was comparatively satisfied.The baby, Frances, slept peacefully through all.
The next morning Kate said,--"Mother, were you affrighted last nightwith the great rocking and noise?"
"A little afeard lest some of us should be hurt, sweet heart, if anything should chance to fall down, or the like; but that was all."
"I thought," said she, "that the end of the world was come. What shouldhave come unto us then, Mother?"
"Why, then," replied Isoult, "we should have seen the Lord Jesus Christcoming in the clouds, with all the angels."
"Well," answered Kate, thoughtfully, "I would not have been afeard ofHim, for He took up the little babes in His arms, and would not havethem sent away. If it had been some of them that desired for to havethem away, I might have been afeard."
"Ay," said Dr Thorpe, looking up from his book, "the servants are worseto deal withal than the Master. We be a sight harder upon one the otherthan He is with any of us."
The Averys were visited, a day or two after the earthquake, by an oldacquaintance of Isoult, the companion--"servant" he was called at thattime--of Bishop Latimer. Augustine Bernher was by nation aGerman-Swiss, probably from Basle or its vicinity; and unless we are totake an expression in one of Bradford's letters as figurative, hemarried the sister of John Bradford.
Like every one else just then, Bernher's mind was running chiefly on theearthquake. He brought news that it had been felt at Croydon, Reigate,and nearly all over Kent; and the question on all lips was--What willcome of it? For that it was a prognostic of some fearful calamity, noone thought of doubting.
Whether the earthquake were its forerunner or not, a fearful calamitydid certainly follow. On the 7th of July the sweating sickness brokeout in London. This terrible malady was almost peculiar to thesixteenth century. It was unknown before the Battle of Bosworth Field,in 1485, when it broke out in the ranks of the victorious army; and ithas never been seen again since this, its last and most fatal epidemic,in 1551. It is said to have been of the character of rheumatic fever,but its virulence and rapidity were scarcely precedented. In some casesdeath ensued two hours only after the attack; and few fatal instanceswere prolonged to two days. On the tenth of July, the King was hurriedaway to Hampton Court, for one of his grooms and a gentleman of thechamber were already dead. The fury of the plague, for a veritableplague it was, began to abate in London on the 20th; and between the 7thand 20th died in the City alone, about nine hundred persons [Note 2].Nor was the disease confined to London. It broke out at Cambridge--interm time--decimating the University. The Duchess of Suffolk, who wasresiding there to be near her sons, both of whom were then at SaintJohn's, hastily sent away her boys to Bugden, the Bishop of Lincoln'sPalace. But the destroying angel followed. The young Duke and hisbrother reached Bugden on the afternoon of July 13; and at noon on thefollowing day, the Duchess was childless.
The suspense was dreadful to those who lived in and near London. Everyday Isoult watched to see her children sicken--for children were thechief victims of the malady; and on the 15th, when Walter complained ofhis head, and shivered even in the July sun, she felt certain that thesword of the angel had reached to her. The revulsion of feeling, whenDr Thorpe pronounced the child's complaint to be only measles, wasintense. The baby, Frances, also suffered lightly, but Kate declined tobe ill of any thing, to the great relief of her mother. So the fearfuldanger passed over. No name in the Avery family was inscribed on thetablet of death given to the angel.
John Avery was very indignant at the cant names given by the populace tothe sweating sickness. "The new acquaintance"--"Stop-gallant"--"Stoop,knave, and know thy master"--so men termed it, jesting on the very brinkof the grave.
"Truly," said he, "'tis enough to provoke a heavier visitation at God'shand, when His holy ears do hear the light and unseemly manner whereinmen have received this one."
"Nor is the one of them true," replied Dr Thorpe. "This disorder is nonew acquaintance, for we had it nigh all over one half of England inKing Henry's days. I know I had in Bodmin eight sick therewith at onetime."
When this terror was passing away, an event happened which rejoiced thePapists, and sorely grieved the Gospellers.
On the 5th of April previous, after the deprivation of Gardiner, DrPoynet had been appointed Bishop of Winchester, and 2000 marks in landassigned for his maintenance. The new Bishop was married; and soonafter his elevation, it transpired that his wife had a previous husbandyet living. Whether the Bishop knew this at the time of his marriagedoes not appear; but we may in charity hope that he was ignorant. Hewas publicly divorced in Saint Paul's Cathedral on the 28th of July; tothe extreme delight of the Papists, in whose eyes a blot on thecharacter of a Protestant Bishop was an oasis of supreme pleasure.
The Gospellers were downcast and distressed. Isoult Avery, coming infrom the market, recounted with pain and indignation the remarks whichshe had heard on all sides. But John only smiled when she told him ofthem.
"It is but like," said he. "The sin of one member tainteth the wholebody, specially in their eyes that be not of the body. Rest thee, dearheart! The Judge of all the earth shall not blunder because they do,neither in Bishop Poynet's case nor in our own."
"But," said Isoult, "we had no hand in marrying Bishop Poynet."
"Little enough," he answered. "He shall bear his own sin (how much orli
ttle it be) to his own Master. If he knew not that the woman was notfree, it is lesser his sin than hers; and trust me, God shall not doomhim for sin he did not. And if he knew, who are we, that we should caststones at him, or say any thing unto him (confessing and amending)beyond `Go, and sin no more'?"
"Nay," she said, "it is not we that flout him, but these Papisticalknaves which do flout us for his sake."
"Not for his sake," replied John, solemnly; "for an Other's sake. Weknow that the world hated Him before it hated us. Bishop Poynet is notthe man they aim at; he is but a commodious handle, a pipe through whichtheir venom may conveniently run. He whom they flout thus is an otherMan, whom one day they as well as we shall see coming in the clouds ofHeaven, coming to judge the earth. The question asked of Paul was not`Why persecutest thou these men and women at Damascus?' It is not,methinks, only `Inasmuch as ye did' this good, but likewise `Inasmuch asye did' this evil, `unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye didit unto Me.'"
The next thing which aggrieved the people was an order for the abatementof the coinage. Henceforward, the nine-penny piece was to pass forsixpence, the groat or four-penny piece for twopence, the two-pennypiece for a penny, the penny for a halfpenny, and the halfpenny for afarthing. Yet notwithstanding this, or perhaps in consequence of it,the price of provisions rose instead of falling.
"Why," said Dr Thorpe, "this is plainly putting an hand in a man'spocket, and robbing him of half his money!"
"Softly, good friend!" interposed John. "You would not call the King'sGrace a robber?"
"The King's Grace is the King's Grace, and may do as it liketh him,"said Dr Thorpe, a little testily; "'tis yonder rascally Council whereofI speak, and in especial that cheating knave of Warwick. I would we hadmy Lord of Somerset back, for all he is not a Lutheran, but a Gospeller.He never thrust his hand into my pocket o' this fashion."
"Ah!" replied John, laughing, "touch a man's pocket, and how he criethapace!"
"A child newly burnt dreadeth the fire, Jack," answered the old man."This is not the first time we have had the King's coin pulled down. Iam as true a man to the King as any here; but I have taken no oath tothat dotipole [blockhead] of Warwick; and if he play this game once toooft, he may find he hath fished and caught a frog."
"I count," suggested John, soberly, "that my Lord of Warwick's testersshall not pass for any more than ours."
"What matters that to him, lad," cried Dr Thorpe, "when he can put hishand into the King's treasury, and draw it out full of rose nobles? Thescurvy rogue! I would he were hanged!"
John laid his hand very gently and lovingly on the old man's shoulder.
"Would you truly that, friend?" said he, softly.
"A man meaneth not alway every thing he saith," replied Dr Thorpe,somewhat ashamed. "Bring me not to bar, prithee, for every word, when Iam heated."
"Dear old friend," John answered, softly, "we shall stand at one Bar forevery word."
"Then I shall look an old fool, as I do now," said he. "Sit thee down,lad! and hold that soft tongue o' thine. I can stand a fair flyting[scolding: still a Northern provincialism] or a fustigation [beating],but I never can one of those soft tongues like thine."
John sat down, a little smile playing round his lips, and said no more.
One day in October, Mr Underhill dined at the Lamb. He brought newsthat at Hampton Court, that day, the Earl of Warwick was to be made Dukeof Northumberland; the Marquis Dorset [Henry Grey, husband of the lateDuke's elder daughter], Duke of Suffolk; the Lord Treasurer [WilliamPaulet, Lord Saint John], Marquis of Winchester; and Mr William Herbert,Earl of Pembroke.
"Duke of Northumberland!" cried Dr Thorpe, fairly roused at this news."Duke of Blunderhead! Had the King made him Duke of Cumberland I hadlittle marvelled. Wherefore did his Grace (saving the reverence due)not likewise make me Duke of Truro or Marquis of Bodmin? I have been atruer man unto his Highness than ever my Lord of Warwick, and have donethe kingdom a sight less harm."
"Less harm, quotha!" laughed Mr Underhill. "Why, friend, if all weremade dukes and marquises that have done no harm to the kingdom, weshould have the Minories choke-full of noble houses."
"We should have mighty few of the Lords keeping their titles," said DrThorpe, grimly.
A few days later, Dr Thorpe, having gone to the barber's near Aldgate,returned with a budget of news, as was usual when he came from thatquarter.
"What will you give me for my news?" cried he, as he came in. "Rarenews! glorious news!--for all knaves, dolts, and runagates!"
John entered likewise just after him.
"I will give you nought, Doctor, at that rate," said Isoult, laughing.
"I know it, friend," replied John, so sadly that her mirth vanished in amoment. "It is a woeful blow to the Gospel. Isoult, the Duke ofSomerset and my Lord Grey de Wilton are committed to the Tower."
"The Duke of Somerset again!" she cried. "But my Lord Grey de Wilton!--what hath he done?"
"Served the King well in Cornwall," answered John; "I know of nothingworse."
"'Tis that idiot, knave, dolt, and dizard [fool] of a Northumberland,"cried Dr Thorpe in great indignation. "I would the whole Dudley racehad never been born! Knavery runs in their blood--'twill not out ofthem!"
"There are a few honest men in England--but a few," said John,mournfully, "and two of the foremost shall lie this night in the Towerof London. And for what? Is it because my Lord Grey hath many timesshed his blood for England (the royal blood of England herself whichrunneth in his veins [Note 3]), that now England herself shall shed iton Tower Hill? Is it because my Lord of Somerset hath given her thebest laws she had for many a day, that now she will needs strain herlaws to condemn him? Shame upon England if it be so! She shall not beheld guiltless for it either before God or men."
"And yestereven," continued Dr Thorpe, "was my Lady of Somerset sentalso to the Tower, for the great crime, I take it, of being wife untoher husband. And with her a fair throng of gentlemen--what they havedone I wis not. Maybe one of them sent the Duke a peacock, and anotherdoffed his bonnet to the Lord Grey."
"The Duchess, too!" exclaimed John, turning to him. "I heard not of hercommittal. What can they lay to her charge?"
"Marry, she must have trade on the tail [train] of my Lady ofNorthumberland last Garter day," scornfully answered Dr Thorpe. "Werenot this a crime well deserving of death?"
"Surely," said Isoult, "my Lady of Warwick [Note 4] will plead for herown father and mother with her father of Northumberland?"
"Plead with the clouds that they rain not!" said he, "or with a fallingrock that it crush you not. Their bosoms were easier to move than JohnDudley's heart of stone."
"And what saith the King to it all, mewondereth?" said Isoult.
"Poor child!" answered Jack, "I am sorry for him. Either he pleadeth invain, or else they have poured poison into his ears, persuading him thathis uncle is his dire foe, and they his only friends [the last was thetruth]. God have pity on his gentle, childly heart, howsoever it be."
"More news, Isoult!" said Dr Thorpe, coming home on the followingThursday. "'Tis my Lord Paget this time that hath had the greatmisfortune to turn his back upon King Northumberland, while the knavewas looking his way. We shall have all the nobles of the realmaccommodated in the Tower afore long."
"Ah me!" said Isoult, with a shiver, "are those dreadful 'headings tobegin again?"
"Most likely so," answered he, sitting down. "And the King's Grace hathgiven his manor of Ashridge unto his most dear sister the LadyElizabeth. I marvel, by the way, which of those royal ladies shall ridethe first unto Tower Hill. We are getting on, child! How the Devilmust be a-rubbing his hands just now!"
In the midst of these troubles came the Queen Dowager of Scotland, Marieof Guise, to visit the King; upon which rumours instantly arose that theKing should even yet marry the young Queen of Scots. But Mary Stuartwas never to be the wife of Edward Tudor: and there came days when,looking back on this day, Isoult Avery ma
rvelled that she could everhave thought such events troubles at all. The clouds were returningafter the rain.
In came Dr Thorpe from evensong on the Sunday night.
"One bit more of tidings, Isoult!" said he in his caustic style. "'Tisonly my Lord of Arundel--nothing but an Earl--let him be. Who shall bethe next, trow?"
"Mean you," said she, "that my Lord of Arundel is had to the Tower?"
"To the Tower," replied he, "ay; the general meeting-place now o' days."
"I wonder how it is with my Lady of Arundel," said Isoult.
"Why," answered he, "if she would get in likewise after her lord, shehath but to tell my Lord of Northumberland to his face that he may wellbe 'shamed of himself (a truer word was never spoke!) and she shall findher there under an hour."
During the following month came an invitation to dine at West Ham.There, beside the party from the Lamb, were Mr and Mrs Underhill and MrHolland. The conversation turned on politics. It was the usual topicof that eventful decade of years.
Mr Rose said,--"I know one Master Ascham, now tutor unto my LadyElizabeth's Grace, which hath also learned the Lady Jane Grey, and hathtold me how learned and studious a damsel is she; and can speak and readwith all readiness not only French, and Spanish, and Italian, but alsoLatin and Greek: and yet is she only of the age of fourteen years. Andso gentle and lovely a maid to boot, as is scantly to be found in thethree kingdoms of the King's Majesty."
"How had she served for the King?" inquired John.
"Right well, I would say," answered Mr Rose. "But men say she isdestined otherwhere."
"Whither, I pray you?" said Mr Holland.
"Unto a son of my Lord of Northumberland, as 'tis thought," he answered.
Whereupon, hearing the name of his enemy, as though touched by a match,Dr Thorpe exploded.
"A son of my Lord of Northumberland, forsooth!" cried he. "Doth earthbear no men but such as be sons of my Lord of Northumberland? Would therascal gather all the coronets of England on his head, and those of hissons and daughters? 'Tis my Lord of Northumberland here, and there, andeverywhere--"
"Up-stairs and down-stairs, and in my Lady's chamber," sang MrUnderhill, in a fine bass voice; for even in that musical age, he wasrenowned for his proficiency in the art.
"In the King's chamber, certes," said Dr Thorpe. "I would with all mineheart he could be thence profligated." [Driven out.]
"Methinks I can see one in the far distance that may do that," said MrRose in his grave manner. "At the furthest, my Lord of Northumberlandwill not live for ever."
"But how many sons hath he?" groaned Dr Thorpe. "`Such apple-tree, suchfruit' If the leopard leave ten or a dozen cubs, we be little better forshooting him."
"My Lord Henry, allgates, is no leopard cub," said Mr Underhill. "Iknow the boy; and a brave, gallant lad he is."
"Go on," said Dr Thorpe. "The rest?"
"My Lord of Warwick," pursued he, "is scarce the equal of his brother,yet is he undeserving of the name of a leopard cub; and my Lord Ambrose,as meseemeth, shall make a worthy honourable man. For what toucheth myLord Guilford, I think he is not unkindly, but he hath not wit equal tohis father; and as for Robin [the famous Earl of Leicester]--well, youshall call him a leopard cub an' you will. He hath all his father's witand craft, and more than his father's grace and favour; and he lookethto serve as a courtier."
"He shall carry on, then, in his father's place," said Dr Thorpe, with agroan.
"Methinks he shall either make a right good man, or a right bad one,"answered Mr Underhill. "He hath wit for aught."
"And who," said Dr Thorpe, "ever heard of a Dudley a good man?"
"Is that the very gentleman," asked Mrs Rose, "that did marry with thegreat heir, Mistress Robsart?"
"Ay,--Mrs Amie," answered Mr Underhill; "and a gentle one she is. Adeal too good for Robin Dudley."
"Must we then look to my Lord Robert as the Cerberus of the future?"said Mr Rose, smiling.
"The Devil is not like to run short of servants," answered Dr Thorpe,grimly. "If it be not he, it will be an other."
The clouds returned after the rain; but they gathered softly.Unheralded by any suspicion on the part of England as to the fate whichit bore, came that fatal first of December which was the beginning ofthe end.
Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, was arraigned that day in WestminsterHall. And round the doors England pressed, yet in more hope than fear.A mere farce, she thought: he must be acquitted, of course. Sheprepared to welcome him home in triumph.
With such feelings in her heart--for was she not a part of England?--Isoult Avery stood at her door about six o'clock that evening, waitingfor John's return from the trial which was the one occurrence of theday. Robin had gone with him; but Dr Thorpe remained at home. For atime there was nothing but silence. The usual hum of the City wasstilled: everybody was at Westminster. From Goodman's Fields the cowscame lowing home; now and then a single person, intent on business withwhich nothing might interfere, passed quickly up the Minories; the softchime of the bells of Saint Katherine floated past the Tower wall, forthe ringers were practising after evensong; and one great gun rang outsharply from the Tower, to inform the world that it was six o'clock.Five minutes afterwards, a low sound, like the roll of distant thunder,came from the City side of Aldgate. It grew louder every moment. Itbecame first a noise, then a roar. At last the sound was articulate anddistinguishable.
"A Somerset! a Somerset!" [Note 5.]
But what had happened? Were they voices of Papists, or of Gospellers?
All at once they came pouring out of Aldgate. In front colours wereflying and fifes screaming, and behind ran the crowd, their voicesdrowning the fifes. Isoult began to think of retreating and closing herdoor, when she caught sight of Gillian Brent [a fictitious person], herneighbour's daughter, who was struggling frantically to reach hermother's house, being nearly carried off her feet by the press ofpeople. Gillian, with much difficulty, fought her way through, andreached Isoult, who had beckoned her to take refuge with her. She camein almost breathless, and sank upon the settle, completely worn out,before she had strength to speak. When she was a little recovered,Gillian said--
"My Lord Protector is quit [acquitted] of all ill, Mistress; andtherefore the folk be thus glad."
"In very deed!" said Isoult, "and therefore am I right glad. But,Gillian, are you certain thereof?"
"Nay," said she; "I do know no more than that all the folk say so much."
Two hours more passed before John came home.
"Well, Jack!" said Dr Thorpe, so soon as he heard his foot on thethreshold, "so my Lord of Somerset is quit of all charges?"
"Who told you so much?" inquired John.
"All the folk say so," answered Isoult.
"All the folk mistake, then," answered he, sadly. "He is quit of hightreason, but that only; and is cast for death [Note 6] of felony, andremitted again unto the Tower."
"Cast for death!" cried Dr Thorpe and Isoult together.
Avery sat down with a weary air.
"I have been all this day in Westminster Hall," said he, "for I sawthere Mr Bertie, of my Lady of Suffolk's house, and he gat space for meso soon as he saw me; and we stood together all the day to listen. MyLord of Somerset pleaded his own cause like a gentleman and a Christian,as he is: verily, I never heard man speak better."
"Well!" said Isoult, "then wherefore, thinkest, fared he ill?"
"Ah, dear heart!" replied he, "afore a jury of wolves, a lamb should beconvicted of the death of a lion."
"Who tried him?" asked Dr Thorpe.
"My Lord of Northumberland himself hath been on the Bench," said John,"and it is of the act of compassing and procuring his death that my Lordof Somerset is held guilty."
"Knave! scoundrel! murderer!" cried Dr Thorpe, in no softened tone."Jack, if I were that man's physician, I were sore tempted to give him adose that should end his days and this realm's troubles!"
"Good friend," said John, smili
ng sadly, "methinks his days shall beover before the troubles of this realm."
"But is there an other such troubler in it?" asked he.
"Methinks I could name two," said John; "the Devil and Dr StephenGardiner."
"Dr Gardiner is safe shut up," he answered.
"He may be out to-morrow," said John. "And if not so, the Devil is notyet shut up, nor shall be till the angel be sent with the great chain tobind him."
"Nay, Jack! the wise doctors say that was done under Constantine theEmperor, and we have enjoyed the same ever sithence," answered he.
"Do they so?" replied John, somewhat drily. "We be enjoying it now,trow?--But the thousand years be over, and he is let out again. And ifhe were ever shut up, methinks all the little devils were left freescope. Nay, dear friend! before the Kingdom, the King. The holyJerusalem must first come down from Heaven; and _then_ `there shall beno more pain, neither sorrow, nor crying.'"
When the two were alone, John said to his wife--"Isoult, who thinkestthou is the chief witness against my Lord of Somerset, and he thatshowed this his supposed plot to the King and Council?"
"Tell me, Jack," said she. "I cannot guess." He said, "Sir ThomasPalmer, sometime of Calais."
"God forgive that man!" cried Isoult, growing paler. "He did my dearmaster [Lord Lisle] to death,--will he do my Lord of Somerset also?"
"`Ye shall be hated of all men for My name's sake.' They that are soshall have their names written in Heaven." Avery spoke solemnly, andsaid no more.
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Note 1. Crowns were coined with either a rose or a sun on the obverse;and were distinguished accordingly.
Note 2. 872 (Machyn's Diary, page 8); 938 (News Letter, Harl. Ms. 353,folio 107).
Note 3. The line of Grey de Wilton is the youngest branch of the royalHouse of York.
Note 4. John Earl of Warwick, eldest son of Northumberland, had marriedAnne, eldest daughter of Somerset.
Note 5. This ancient English shout is always spelt thus; but there isreason to think that the first word was sounded _ah_.
Note 6. Convicted. The Duke was acquitted on the first count, of hightreason; and the people, hearing the announcement, "Not Guilty,"supposed that the trial was ended, and the Duke completely acquitted.