CHAPTER V
MASTER MORE
It was not until nearly a month later that Ralph made an opportunity tocall upon Sir Thomas More. Cromwell had given him to understand thatthere was no immediate reason for haste; his own time was tolerablyoccupied, and he thought it as well not to make a show of over-greathurry. He wrote to Sir Thomas, explaining that he wished to see him on amatter connected with his brother Christopher, and received a courteousreply begging him to come to dinner on the following Thursday, theoctave of the Assumption, as Sir Thomas thought it proper to add.
* * * * *
It was a wonderfully pleasant house, Ralph thought, as his wherry cameup to the foot of the garden stairs that led down from the lawn to theriver. It stood well back in its own grounds, divided from the river bya wall with a wicket gate in it. There was a little grove of trees oneither side of it; a flock of pigeons were wheeling about thebell-turret that rose into the clear blue sky, and from which came astroke or two, announcing the approach of dinner-time as he went up thesteps.
There was a figure lying on its face in the shadow by the house, asRalph came up the path, and a small dog, that seemed to be trying to digthe head out from the hands in which it was buried, ceased hisexcavations and set up a shrill barking. The figure rolled over, and satup; the pleasant brown face was all creased with laughter; small piecesof grass were clinging to the long hair, and Ralph, to his amazement,recognised the ex-Lord Chancellor of England.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said More, rising and shaking himself. "I hadno idea--you take me at a disadvantage; it is scarcely dignified"--andhe stopped, smiling and holding out one hand, while he stretched theother deprecatingly, to quiet that insistent barking.
Ralph had a sensation of mingled contempt and sympathy as he took hishand.
"I had the honour of seeing you once before, Master More," he said.
"Why, yes," said More, "and I hope I cut a better figure last time, butAnubis would take no refusal. But I am ashamed, and beg you will notspeak of it to Mrs. More. She is putting on a new coif in your honour."
"I will be discreet," said Ralph, smiling.
They went indoors almost immediately, when Sir Thomas had flicked thegrass sufficiently off his gown to escape detection, and straightthrough to the hall where the table was laid, and three or four girlswere waiting.
"Your mother is not here yet, I see," said Sir Thomas, when he had madeRalph known to his daughters, and the young man had kissed themdeferentially, according to the proper etiquette--"I will tell yousomewhat--hush--" and he broke off again sharply as the door from thestairs opened, and a stately lady, with a rather solemn anduninteresting face, sailed in, her silk skirts rustling behind her, andher fresh coif stiff and white on her head. A middle-aged man followedher in, looking a little dejected, and made straight across to where theladies were standing with an eagerness that seemed to hint at a sense ofescape.
"Mrs. Alice," said Sir Thomas, "this is Mr. Ralph Torridon, of whom youhave heard me speak. I was fortunate enough to welcome him on the lawnjust now."
"I saw you, Mr. More," said his wife with dignity, as she took Ralph'shand and said a word about the weather.
"Then I will confess," said Sir Thomas, smiling genially round, "Iwelcomed Mr. Torridon with the back of my head, and with Anubis bitingmy ears."
Ralph felt strangely drawn to this schoolboy kind of man, who rompedwith dogs and lay on his stomach, and was so charmingly afraid of hiswife. His contempt began to melt as he looked at him and saw those wisetwinkling eyes, and strong humorous mouth, and remembered once more whohe was, and his reputation.
Sir Thomas said grace with great gravity and signed himself reverentlybefore he sat down. There was a little reading first of the Scripturesand a commentary on it, and then as dinner went on Ralph began to attendless and less to his hostess, who, indeed appeared wholly absorbed indomestic details of the table and with whispering severely to theservants behind her hand, and to listen and look towards the further endwhere Sir Thomas sat in his tall chair, his flapped cap on his head, andtalked to his daughters on either side. Mr. Roper, the man who had comein with Mrs. More, was sitting opposite Ralph, and seemed to be chieflyoccupied in listening too. A bright-looking tall girl, whom her fatherhad introduced by the name of Cecily, sat between Ralph and her father.
"Not at all," cried Sir Thomas, in answer to something that Ralph didnot catch, "nothing of the kind! It was Juno that screamed. Argus wouldnot condescend to it. He was occupied in dancing before the bantams."
Ralph lost one of the few remarks that Mrs. More addressed to him, inwondering what this meant, and the conversation at the other end sweptround a corner while he was apologising. When he again caught thecurrent Sir Thomas was speaking of wherries.
"I would love to row a wherry," he said. "The fellows do not know theirfortune; they might lead such sweet meditative lives; they do not, I amwell aware, for I have never heard such blasphemy as I have heard fromwherrymen. But what opportunities are theirs! If I were not your father,my darling, I would be a wherryman. _Si cognovisses et tu quae ad pacemtibi_! Mr. Torridon, would you not be a wherryman if you were not Mr.Torridon?"
"I thought not this morning," said Ralph, "as I came here. It seemed hotrowing against the stream."
"It is part of the day's work," said More. "When I was Chancellor Iloved nothing more than a hot summer's day in Court, for I thought of mycool garden where I should soon be walking. I must show you the NewBuilding after dinner, Mr. Torridon."
Cecily and Margaret presently had a short encounter across the table onsome subject that Ralph did not catch, but he saw Margaret on the otherside flush up and bring her lips sharply together. Sir Thomas leapt intothe breach.
"_Unde leves animae tanto caluere furore?_" he cried, and glanced up atRalph to see if he understood the quotation, as the two girls droppedtheir eyes ashamed.
"_Pugnavare pares, succubuere pares_," said Ralph by a flash ofinspiration, and looking at the girls.
Sir Thomas's eyes shone with pleasure.
"I did not know you were such a treasure, Mr. Torridon. Now, MasterCromwell could not have done that."
There fell a silence as that name was spoken, and all at the table eyedRalph.
"He was saying as much to me the other day," went on Ralph, excited byhis success. "He told me you knew Horace too well."
"And that my morals were corrupted by him," went on More. "I know hethinks that, but I had the honour of confuting him the other day withregard to the flagon and gloves. Now, there is a subject for Martial,Mr. Torridon. A corrupt statesman who has retired on his ill-gottengains disproves an accusation of bribery. Let us call him Atticus'Attice ... Attice' ...--We might say that he put on the gloves lest hisforgers should be soiled while he drank from the flagon, or something ofthe kind."
Sir Thomas's eyes beamed with delight as he talked. To make an aptclassical quotation was like wine to him, but to have it cappedappropriately was like drunkenness. Ralph blessed his stars that he hadbeen so lucky, for he was no great scholar, and he guessed he had wonhis host's confidence.
Dinner passed on quietly, and as they rose from table More came roundand took his guest by the arm.
"You must come with me and see my New Building," he said, "you areworthy of it, Mr. Torridon."
He still held his arm affectionately as they walked out into the gardenbehind the house, and as he discoursed on the joys of a country life.
"What more can I ask of God?" he said. "He has given me means and tastesto correspond, and what man can say more. I see visions, and am able tomake them realities. I dream of a dovecote with a tiled roof, andstraightway build it; I picture a gallery and a chapel and a libraryaway from the clack of tongues, and behold there it is. The eye cannotsay to the hand, 'I have no need of thee.' To see and dream without thepower of performance is heart-breaking. To perform without the gift ofimagination is soul-slaying. The man is blessed that hath both eye andhand, tastes and means a
like."
It was a very pleasant retreat that Sir Thomas More had built forhimself at the end of his garden, where he might retire when he wantedsolitude. There was a little entrance hall with a door at one cornerinto the chapel, and a long low gallery running out from it, lined withbookshelves on one side, and with an open space on the other lighted bysquare windows looking into the garden. The polished boards were bare,and there was a path marked on them by footsteps going from end to end.
"Here I walk," said More, "and my friends look at me from those shelves,ready to converse but never to interrupt. Shall we walk here, Mr.Torridon, while you tell me your business?"
Ralph had, indeed, a touch of scrupulousness as he thought of his host'sconfidence, but he had learnt the habit of silencing impulses and ofonly acting on plans deliberately formed; so he was soon laying bare hisanxiety about Chris, and his fear that he had been misled by the HolyMaid.
"I am very willing, Mr. More," he said, "that my brother should be amonk if it is right, but I could not bear he should be so against God'sleading. How am I to know whether the maid's words are of God or no?"
Sir Thomas was silent a moment.
"But he had thoughts of it before, I suppose," he said, "or he would nothave gone to her. In fact, you said so."
Ralph acknowledged that this was so.
"--And for several years," went on the other.
Again Ralph assented.
"And his tastes and habits are those of a monk, I suppose. He is longat his prayers, given to silence, and of a tranquil spirit?"
"He is not always tranquil," said Ralph. "He is impertinent sometimes."
"Yes, yes; we all are that. I was very impertinent to you at dinner intrying to catch you with Martial his epigram, though I shall not offendagain. But his humour may be generally tranquil in spite of it. Well, ifthat is so, I do not see why you need trouble about the Holy Maid. Hewould likely have been a monk without that. She only confirmed him."
"But," went on Ralph, fighting to get back to the point, "if I thoughtshe was trustworthy I should be the more happy."
"There must always be doubtfulness," said More, "in such matters. Thatis why the novitiate is so severe; it is to show the young men the worstat once. I do not think you need be unhappy about your brother."
"And what is your view about the Holy Maid?" asked Ralph, suddenlydelivering his point.
More stopped in his walk, cocked his head a little on one side like aclever dog, and looked at his companion with twinkling eyes.
"It is a delicate subject," he said, and went on again.
"That is what puzzles me," said Ralph. "Will you not tell me youropinion, Mr. More?"
There was again a silence, and they reached the further end of thegallery and turned again before Sir Thomas answered.
"If you had not answered me so briskly at dinner, Mr. Torridon, do youknow that I should have suspected you of coming to search me out. Butsuch a good head, I think, cannot be allied with a bad heart, and Iwill tell you."
Ralph felt a prick of triumph but none of remorse.
"I will tell you," went on More, "and I am sure you will keep itprivate. I think the Holy Maid is a good woman who has a maggot."
Ralph's spirits sank again. This was a very non-committing answer.
"I do not think her a knave as some do, but I think, to refer to what wesaid just now, that she has a large and luminous eye, and no hand worthmentioning. She sees many visions, but few facts. That tale about theHost being borne by angels from Calais to my mind is nonsense. AlmightyGod does not work miracles without reason, and there is none for that.The blessed sacrament is the same at Dover as at Calais. And a woman whocan dream that can dream anything, for I am sure she did not invent it.On other matters, therefore, she may be dreaming too, and that is whyonce more I tell you that to my mind you can leave her out of yourthoughts with regard to your brother. She is neither prophetess norpythoness."
This was very unsatisfactory, and Ralph strove to remedy it.
"And in the matter of the King's death, Mr. More?" he said.
Again Sir Thomas stopped in his walk.
"Do you know, Mr. Torridon, I think we may leave that alone," he said alittle abruptly. And Ralph sucked in his lip and bit it sharply at theconsciousness of his own folly.
"I hope your brother will be very happy," went on the other after amoment, "and I am sure he will be, if his call is from God, as I thinklikely. I was with the Carthusians myself, you know, for four years,and sometimes I think I should have stayed there. It is a blessed life.I do not envy many folks, but I do those. To live in the dailycompanionship of our blessed Lord and of his saints as those do, and toknow His secrets--_secreta Domini_--even the secrets of His Passion andits ineffable joys of pain--that is a very fortunate lot, Mr. Torridon.I sometimes think that as it was with Christ's natural body so it iswith His mystical body: there be some members, His hands and feet andside, through which the nails are thrust, though indeed there is not onewhole spot in His body--_inglorius erit inter viros aspectus ejus--nosputavimus eum quasi leprosum_--but those parts of His body that areespecially pained are at once more honourable and more happy than thosethat are not. And the monks are those happy members."
He was speaking very solemnly, his voice a little tremulous, and hiskindly eyes were cast down, and Ralph watched him sidelong with a littleawe and pity mingled. He seemed so natural too, that Ralph thought thathe must have over-rated his own indiscretion.
A shadow fell across the door into the garden as they came near it, andone of the girls appeared in the opening.
"Why, Meg," cried her father, "what is it, my darling?"
"Beatrice has come, sir," said the girl. "I thought you would wish toknow."
More put out his arm and laid it round his daughter's waist as sheturned with him.
"Come, Mr. Torridon," he said, "if you have no more to say, let us goand see Beatrice."
There was a group on the lawn under one of the lime trees, two or threegirls and Mr. Roper, who all rose to their feet as the three came up.More immediately sat down on the grass, putting his feet delicatelytogether before him.
"Will, fetch this gentleman a chair. It is not fit for MasterCromwell's friend to sit on the grass like you and me."
Ralph threw himself down on the lawn instantly, entreating Mr. Roper notto move.
"Well, well," said Sir Thomas, "let be. Sit down too, Will, _et cubitoremanete presso_. Mr. Torridon understands that, I know, even if MasterCromwell's friend does not. Why, tillie-vallie, as Mrs. More says, Ihave not said a word to Beatrice. Beatrice, this is Mr. Ralph Torridon,and this, Mr. Torridon, is Beatrice. Her other name is Atherton, but tome she is a feminine benediction, and nought else."
Ralph rose swiftly and looked across at a tall slender girl that wassitting contentedly on an outlying root of the lime tree, beside of SirThomas, and who rose with him.
"Mr. More cannot let my name alone, Mr. Torridon," she said tranquilly,as she drew back after the salute. "He made a play upon it the otherday."
"And have been ashamed of it ever since," said More; "it was sacrilegewith such a name. Now, I am plain Thomas, and more besides. Why did yousend for me, Beatrice?"
"I have no defence," said the girl, "save that I wanted to see you."
"And that is the prettiest defence you could have made--if it does notamount to corruption. Mr. Torridon, what is the repartee to that?"
"I need no advocate," said the girl; "I can plead well enough."
Ralph looked up at her again with a certain interest. She seemed onmarvellously good terms with the whole family, and had an air of beingentirely at her ease. She had her black eyes bent down on to a piece ofgrass that she was twisting into a ring between her slender jewelledfingers, and her white teeth were closed firmly on her lower lip as sheworked. Her long silk skirts lay out unregarded on the grass, and herbuckles gleamed beneath. Her voice was pleasant and rather deep, andRalph found himself wondering who she was, and why he had not seen herbefore,
for she evidently belonged to his class, and London was a smallplace.
"I see you are making one more chain to bind me to you," said Morepresently, watching her.
She held it up.
"A ring only," she said.
"Then it is not for me," said More, "for I do not hold with Dr.Melanchthon, nor yet Solomon in the matter of wives. Now, Mr. Torridon,tell us all some secrets. Betray your master. We are all agog. Leave offthat ring, Beatrice, and attend."
"I am listening," said the girl as serenely as before, still intent onher weaving.
"The King breakfasted this morning at eight of the clock," said Ralphgravely. "It is an undoubted fact, I had it on the highest authority."
"This is excellent," said Sir Thomas. "Let us all talk treason. I canadd to that. His Grace had a fall last night and lay senseless forseveral hours."
He spoke with such gravity that Ralph glanced up. At the same momentBeatrice looked up from her work and their eyes met.
"He fell asleep," added Sir Thomas.
* * * * *
It was very pleasant to lie there in the shadow of the lime thatafternoon, and listen to the mild fooling, and Ralph forgot hismanners, and almost his errand too, and never offered to move. The grassbegan to turn golden as the sun slanted to the West, and the birds beganto stir after the heat of the day, and to chirp from tree to tree. Ahundred yards away the river twinkled in the sun, seen beyond the treesand the house, and the voices of the boatmen came, softened by distanceand water, as they plied up and down the flowing highway. Once a bargewent past under the Battersea bank, with music playing in the stern, andRalph raised himself on his elbow to watch it as it went down the streamwith flags flying behind, and the rhythmical throb of the row-lockssounding time to the dancing melody.
Ralph did his best to fall in with the humour of the day, and told agood story or two in his slow voice--among them one of his motherexercising her gift of impressive silence towards a tiresome chatterboxof a man, with such effect that the conversationalist's words died onhis lips, after the third or fourth pause made for applause and comment.He told the story well, and Lady Torridon seemed to move among them, herskirts dragging majestically on the grass, and her steady, sombre facelooking down on them all beneath half-closed languid eye-lids.
"He has never been near us again," said Ralph, "but he never fails toask after my mother's distressing illness when I meet him in town."
He was a little astonished at himself as he talked, for he was notaccustomed to take such pains to please, but he was conscious thatthough he looked round at the faces, and addressed himself to More, hewas really watching for the effect on the girl who sat behind. He wasaware of every movement that she made; he knew when she tossed the ringon the little sleeping brown body of the dog that had barked at himearlier in the day, and set to work upon another. She slipped that onher finger when she had done, and turned her hand this way and that, herfingers bent back, a ruby catching the light as she did so, looking atthe effect of the green circle against the whiteness. But he neverlooked at her again, except once when she asked him some question, andthen he looked her straight in her black eyes as he answered.
A bell sounded out at last again from the tower, and startled him. Hegot up quickly.
"I am ashamed," he said smiling, "how dare I stay so long? It is yourkindness, Mr. More."
"Nay, nay," said Sir Thomas, rising too and stretching himself. "Youhave helped us to lose another day in the pleasantest mannerpossible--you must come again, Mr. Torridon."
He walked down with Ralph to the garden steps, and stood by him talking,while the wherry that had been hailed from the other side made its wayacross.
"Beatrice is like one of my own daughters," he said, "and I cannot giveher better praise than that. She is always here, and always as you sawher today. I think she is one of the strongest spirits I know. What didyou think of her, Mr. Torridon?"
"She did not talk much," said Ralph.
"She talks when she has aught to say," went on More, "and otherwise issilent. It is a good rule, sir; I would I observed it myself."
"Who is she?" asked Ralph.
"She is the daughter of a friend I had, and she lives just now with mywife's sisters, Nan and Fan. She is often in town with one of them. I amastonished you have not met her before."
The wherry slid up to the steps and the man in his great boots slippedover the side to steady it.
"Now is the time to begin your philosophy," said More as Ralph steppedin, "and a Socrates is ready. Talk it over, Mr. Torridon."