CHAPTER VII
A MERRY PRISONER
The arrest of Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher and their committal tothe Tower a few days later caused nothing less than consternation inEngland and of furious indignation on the Continent. It was evident thatgreatness would save no man; the best hope lay in obscurity, and men whohad been loud in self-assertion now grew timorous and silent.
Ralph was now in the thick of events. Besides his connection with More,he had been present at one of the examinations of the Maid of Kent andher admirers; had formed one of the congregation at Paul's Cross whenthe confession drawn up for her had been read aloud in her name by Dr.Capon, who from the pulpit opposite the platform where the penitentswere set, preached a vigorous sermon against credulity and superstition.Ralph had read the confession over a couple of days before in Cromwell'sroom, and had suggested a few verbal alterations; and he had beenfinally present, a few days after More's arrest, at the last scene ofthe drama, when Elizabeth Barton, with six priests, suffered, under theprovisions of an act of attainder, on Tyburn gallows.
All these events were indications of the course that things were takingin regard to greater matters. Parliament had now advanced further thanever in the direction of a breach with Rome, and had transferred thepower of nomination to bishoprics from the Holy See to the Crown, and,what was as least as significant, had dealt in a similar manner with theauthority over Religious houses.
On the other side, Rome had declared definitely against the annulling ofQueen Katharine's marriage, and to this the King had retorted by turningthe pulpits against the Pope, and in the course of this had foundhimself compelled to deal sharply with the Franciscans, who were at thesame time the most popular and the most papal of all preachers. In thefollowing out of this policy, first several notable friars wereimprisoned, and next a couple of subservient Religious, a Dominican andan Augustinian, were appointed grand visitors of the rebellious Order.
A cloud of terror now began to brood over the Religious houses inEngland, as the news of these proceedings became known, and Ralph had apiteous letter from his father, entreating him to give some explanationof the course of affairs so far as was compatible with loyalty to hismaster, and at least his advice as to Christopher's profession.
"We hear sad tales, dear son," wrote Sir James, "on all sides are fears,and no man knows what the end will be. Some even say that the Orderswill be reduced in number. And who knows what may be toward now that theBishop and Mr. More are in trouble. I know not what is all this thatParliament has been doing about the Holy Father his authority; but I amsure that it cannot be more than what other reigns have brought about indeclaring that the Prince is temporal lord of his land. But, howeverthat may be, what do you advise that your brother should do? He is to beprofessed in August, unless it is prevented, and I dare not put out myhand to hinder it, until I know more. I do not ask you, dear son, totell me what you should not; I know my duty and yours too well for that.But I entreat you to tell me what you can, that I may not consent toyour brother's profession if it is better that it should not take placeuntil affairs are quieter. Your mother would send you her dear love, Iknow, if she knew I were writing, but she is in her chamber, and themessenger must go with this. Jesu have you in His blessed keeping!"
Ralph wrote back that he knew no reason against Christopher'sprofession, except what might arise from the exposure of the Holy Maidon whose advice he had gone to Lewes, and that if his father and brotherwere satisfied on that score, he hoped that Christopher would followGod's leading.
At the same time that he wrote this he was engaged, under Cromwell'sdirections, in sifting the evidence offered by the grand visitors toshow that the friars refused to accept the new enactments on the subjectof the papal jurisdiction.
* * * * *
On the other hand, the Carthusians in London had proved more submissive.There had been a struggle at first when the oath of the succession hadbeen tendered to them, and Prior Houghton, with the Procurator, HumphreyMiddlemore, had been committed to the Tower. The oath affirmed thenullity of Queen Katharine's marriage with the King on the allegedground of her consummated marriage with Henry's elder brother, andinvolved, though the Carthusians did not clearly understand it so at thetime, a rejection of the Pope's authority as connected with thedispensation for Katharine's union with Henry. In May their scrupleswere removed by the efforts of some who had influence with them, and thewhole community took the oath as required of them, though with thepathetic addition of a clause that they only submitted "so far as itwas lawful for them so to do." This actual submission, to Cromwell'smind and therefore to Ralph's, was at first of more significance thanwas the uneasy temper of the community, as reported to them, whichfollowed their compliance; but as the autumn drew on this opinion wasmodified.
It was in connection with this that Ralph became aware for the firsttime of what was finally impending with regard to the King's supremacyover the Church.
He had been sitting in Cromwell's room in the Chancery all through onemorning, working at the evidence that was flowing in from all sides ofdisaffection to Henry's policy, sifting out worthless and frivolouscharges from serious ones. Every day a flood of such testimony poured infrom the spies in all parts of the country, relating to the deepeningdissatisfaction with the method of government; and Cromwell, as theKing's adviser, came in for much abuse. Every kind of manifestation ofthis was reported, the talk in the ale-houses and at gentlemen's tablesalike, words dropped in the hunting-field or over a game of cards; andthe offenders were dealt with in various ways, some by a sharp rebuke orwarning, others by a sudden visit of a pursuivant and his men.
Ralph made his report as usual at the end of the morning, and was on thepoint of leaving, when his master called him back from the door.
"A moment," he said, "I have something to say. Sit down."
When Ralph had taken the chair again that he had just left, Cromwelltook up a pen, and began to play with it delicately as he talked.
"You will have noticed," he began, "how hot the feeling runs in thecountry, and I am sure you will also have understood why it is so. Itis not so much what has happened,--I mean in the matter of the marriageand of the friars,--but what folk fear is going to happen. It seems tothe people that security is disappearing; they do not understand thattheir best security lies in obedience. And, above all, they think thatmatters are dangerous with regard to the Church. They know now that thePope has spoken, and that the King pays no heed, but, on the other hand,waxes more bold. And that because his conscience bids him. Rememberthat, sir, when you have to do with his Highness."
He glanced at Ralph again, but there was no mockery in his solemn eyes.Then he went on.
"I am going to tell you, Mr. Torridon, that these folks are partlyright, and that his Grace has not yet done all that he intends. There isyet one more step to take--and that is to declare the King supreme overthe Church of England."
Ralph felt those strong eyes bent upon him, and he nodded, making nosign of approval or otherwise.
"This is no new thing, Mr. Torridon," went on Cromwell, after a moment'ssilence. "The King of England has always been supreme, though I willacknowledge that this has become obscured of late. But it is time thatit be re-affirmed. The Popes have waxed presumptuous, and have laidclaim to titles that Christ never gave them, and it is time that they bereminded that England is free, and will not suffer their domination. Asfor the unity of the Catholic Church, that can be attended to later on,and on firmer ground; when the Pope has been taught not to wax so proud.There will be an Act passed by Parliament presently, perhaps next year,to do this business, and then we shall know better what to do. Untilthat, it is very necessary, as you have already seen, to keep the folksquiet, and not to suffer any contradiction of his Grace's rights. Do youunderstand me, Mr. Torridon?"
Cromwell laid the pen clown and leaned back in his chair, with hisfingers together.
"I understand, sir," said Ralph, in a perfectly even ton
e.
"Well, that is all that I have to say," ended his master, still watchinghim. "I need not tell you how necessary secrecy is in the matter."
Ralph was considerably startled as he went home, and realized betterwhat it was that he had heard. While prudent persons were alreadytrembling at the King's effrontery and daring in the past, Henry wasmeditating a yet further step. He began to see now that the instinct ofthe country was, as always, sharper than that of the individual, andthat these uneasy strivings everywhere rose from a very definiteperception of danger. The idea of the King's supremacy, as representedby Cromwell, would not seem to be a very startling departure; similarprotests of freedom had been made in previous reigns, but now, followingas it did upon overt acts of disobedience to the Sovereign Pontiff, andof disregard of his authority in matters of church-law and even of thestatus of Religious houses, it seemed to have a significance thatprevious protests had lacked.
And behind it all was the King's conscience! This was a new thought toRalph, but the more he considered it the more it convinced him. It was acurious conscience, but a mighty one, and it was backed by anindomitable will. For the first time there opened out to Ralph's mind aglimpse of the possibility that he had scarcely dreamed of hitherto--ofa Nationalism in Church affairs that was a reality rather than atheory--in which the Bishop of Rome while yet the foremost bishop ofChristendom and endowed with special prerogatives, yet should have nofinger in national affairs, which should be settled by the homeauthorities without reference to him. No doubt, he told himself, areadjustment was needed--visions and fancies had encrusted themselves soquickly round the religion credible by a practical man that a scouringwas called for. How if this should be the method by which not only suchaccretions should be done away, but yet more practical matters should bearranged, and steps taken to amend the unwarranted interferences andpecuniary demands of this foreign bishop?
He had had more than one interview with Sir Thomas More in the Tower,and once was able to take him news of his own household at Chelsea. Fora month none of his own people, except his servant, was allowed to visithim, and Ralph, calling on him about three weeks after the beginning ofhis imprisonment, found him eager for news.
He was in a sufficiently pleasant cell in the Beauchamp Tower, furnishedwith straw mats underfoot, and straw hangings in place of a wainscot;his bed stood in one corner, with his crucifix and beads on a littletable beside it, and his narrow window looked out through eleven feet ofwall towards the Court and the White Tower. His books, too, which hisservant, John Wood, had brought from Chelsea, and which had not yet beentaken from him, stood about the room, and several lay on the table amonghis papers, at which he was writing when Ralph was admitted by thewarder.
"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Torridon," he said, "I knew you wouldnot forget an old friend, even though he could not take your counsel. Idaresay you have come to give it me again, however."
"If I thought you would take it," began Ralph.
"But I will not," said More smiling, "no more than before. Sit down, Mr.Torridon."
Ralph had come at Cromwell's suggestion, and with a very greatwillingness of his own, too. He knew he could not please Beatrice morethan by visiting her friend, and he himself was pleased and amused tothink that he could serve his master's interests from one side and hisown from another by one action.
He talked a little about the oath again, and mentioned how many hadtaken it during the last week or two.
"I am pleased that they can do it with a good conscience," observedMore. "And now let us talk of other matters. If I would not do it for mydaughter's sake, who begged me, I would not do it for the sake of boththe Houses of Parliament, nor even, dear Mr. Torridon, for yours andMaster Cromwell's."
Ralph saw that it was of no use, and began to speak of other things. Hegave him news of Chelsea.
"They are not very merry there," he said, "and I hardly suppose youwould wish them to be."
"Why not?" cried More, with a beaming face, "I am merry enough. I wouldnot be a monk; so God hath compelled me to be one, and treats me as oneof His own spoilt children. He setteth me on His lap and dandleth me. Ihave never been so happy."
He told Ralph presently that his chief sorrow was that he could not goto mass or receive the sacraments. The Lieutenant, Sir EdwardWalsingham, who had been his friend, had told him that he would verygladly have given him liberties of this kind, but that he dared not, forfear of the King's displeasure.
"But I told him," said More, "not to trouble himself that I liked hischeer well enough as it was, and if ever I did not he was to put me outof his doors."
After a little more talk he showed Ralph what he was writing. It was atreatise called a "Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation."
"It is to persuade myself," he said, "that I am no more a prisoner thanI was before; I know I am, but sometimes forget it. We are all God'sprisoners."
Ralph glanced down the page just written and was astonished at its goodhumour.
"Some prisoner of another gaol," he read, "singeth, danceth in his twofetters, and feareth not his feet for stumbling at a stone; while God'sprisoner, that hath but his one foot fettered by the gout, liethgroaning on a couch, and quaketh and crieth out if he fear there wouldfall on his foot no more than a cushion."
* * * * *
Ralph went straight up the river from the Tower to Chelsea to take themnews of the prisoner, and was silent and moody as he went. He had beenhalf touched and half enraged by More's bearing--touched by hissimplicity and cheerfulness and enraged by his confidence in a badcause.
Mrs. Alice More behaved as usual when he got there: she had a genius forthe obvious; commented on the weariness of living in one room, thedistress at the thought that one was fastened in at the will of another;deplored the plainness of the prison fare, and the folly of her husbandin refusing an oath that she herself and her children and the vastmajority of the prominent persons in England had found so simple inaccepting. She left nothing unsaid.
Finally, she apologized for the plainness of her dress.
"You must think me a slattern, Mr. Torridon, but I cannot help it. Ihave not the heart nor the means, now that my man is in prison, to dobetter."
And her solemn eyes filled with tears.
When he had given the news to the family he went aside from the group inthe garden to where Beatrice Atherton was sitting below the Jesu tree,with work on her lap.
He had noticed as he talked that she was sitting there, and had raisedhis voice for her benefit. He fancied, and with a pleasure at thedelicate instinct, that she did not wish to appear as intimatelyinterested in the news from the Tower as those who had a better right tobe. He was always detecting now faint shades in her character, as heknew her better, that charmed and delighted him.
She was doing some mending, and only glanced up and down again withoutceasing or moving, as Ralph stood by her.
"I thought you never used the needle," he began in a moment.
"It is never too late to mend," she said, without the faintest movement.
Ralph felt again an odd prick of happiness. It gave him a distinctthrill of delight that she would make such an answer and so swiftly; andat such a time, when tragedy was round her and in her heart, for he knewhow much she loved the man from whom he had just come.
He sat down on the garden chair opposite, and watched her fingers andthe movements of her wrist as she passed the needle in and out, andneither spoke again till the others had dispersed.
"You heard all I said?" said Ralph at last.
She bowed her head without answering.
"Shall I go and bring you news again presently?"
"If you please," she said.
"I hope to be able to do some little things for him," went on Ralph,dropping his eyes, and he was conscious that she momentarily looked up.
--"But I am afraid there is not much. I shall speak for him to MasterCromwell and the Lieutenant."
The needle paused and then went on
again.
Ralph was conscious of an extraordinary momentousness in every word thathe said. He was well aware that this girl was not to be wooed byviolence, but that he must insinuate his mind and sympathies delicatelywith hers, watching for every movement and ripple of thought. He hadknown ever since his talk with Margaret Roper that Beatrice was, as itwere, turned towards him and scrutinising him, and that any mistake onhis part, however slight, might finally alienate her. Even his gestures,the tones of his voice, his manner of walking, were important elements.He knew now that he was the kind of person who might be acceptable toher--or rather that his personality contained one facet that pleasedher, and that he must be careful now to keep that facet turned towardsher continually at such an angle that she caught the flash. He hadsufficient sense, not to act a part, for that, he knew, she would soondiscover, but to be natural in his best way, and to use the fineinstincts that he was aware of possessing to tell him exactly how shewould wish him to express himself. It would be a long time yet, herecognised, before he could attain his final object; in fact he was notperfectly certain what he wanted; but meanwhile he availed himself ofevery possible opportunity to get nearer, and was content with hisprogress.
He was sorely tempted now to discuss Sir Thomas's position and todescribe his own, but he perceived from her own aloofness just now thatit would seem a profanity, so he preserved silence instead, knowing thatit would be eloquent to her. At last she spoke again, and there was asuggestion of a tremor in her voice.
"I suppose you can do nothing for him really? He must stay in theTower?"
Ralph threw out his hands, silently, expostulating.
"Nothing?" she said again, bending over her work.
Ralph stood up, looking down at her, but made no answer.
"I--I would do anything," she said deliberately, "anything, I think, forthe man--" and then broke off abruptly.
* * * * *
Ralph went away from Chelsea that afternoon with a whirling head anddancing heart. She had said no more than that, but he knew what she hadmeant, and knew, too that she would not have said as much to anyone towhom she was indifferent. Of course, it was hopeless to think ofbringing about More's release, but he could at least pretend to try, andRalph was aware that to chivalrous souls a pathetic failure oftenappeals more than an excellent success.
Folks turned to look after him more than once as he strode home.