Page 13 of In Convent Walls

  PART THREE, CHAPTER 5.

  WAITING.

  "If we could push ajar the gates of life, And stand within, and all God's workings see, We could interpret all this doubt and strife, And for each mystery could find a key.

  "But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart! God's plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold: We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart; Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.

  "And if through patient toil we reach the land Where tired feet with sandals loose may rest, When we shall clearly see and understand, I think that we shall say--`God knew the best.'"

  When we came out from the chapel after vespers, my Lady commanded SisterGaillarde to follow her. The rest of us went, of course, to thework-room, where Sister Gaillarde joined us in about half an hour. Isaw that she looked as though she had heard something that greatlyamused her, but we could know nothing till we reached therecreation-room.

  The minute our tongues were loosed, Sister Ada attacked Sister Gaillardeas to what my Lady wanted with her. With one of her grim smiles, SisterGaillarde replied--

  "My Lady is about to resign her office."

  A storm of exclamations greeted the news.

  "Why, Sister? Do tell us why."

  "She finds," said Sister Gaillarde, gravely, "the burden of her officialduties too heavy."

  "I marvel what she reckons them to be!" quoth Sister Joan, who, thoughnot sarcastic in the style of Sister Gaillarde, can now and then say abiting thing. "So far as I ever made out, her duties are to sit oncushions and bid other folks work."

  "Exactly: and that is too much labour for her."

  "Which of us will be chosen in her stead, I marvel!" said Sister Ada,briskly. "I trust it may be one who will look better to her house thanthe present Lady has done."

  "Amen," said Sister Gaillarde, with a mischievous air. "I hope it willbe Sister Joan."

  "Truly, I hope not," answered the Sister: "for if any such honour camemy way (which I expect not), I should feel it my duty to decline it onaccount of my failing sight."

  "Then you see, my Sisters," quoth Sister Ada, quickly, "to vote forMother Joan would be to no good."

  "It would be little good to vote for Mother Ada," I heard a voicewhisper behind me; and another replied, "She thinks we all shall, Iwarrant."

  I feel little doubt that Sister Gaillarde will be the one chosen. Oneof us four it is most likely to be: and the sub-Prioress is oftenerchosen than the rest. Sister Gaillarde, methinks, would make a goodPrioress.

  We had scarcely recovered from our surprise, and had not half finishedour talk, when the bell rang for compline: and silence fell on all thebusy tongues. All the young Sisters, and the postulants, were eager tocatch a glimpse of Father Mortimer; and I saw a good deal of talk passfrom eyes to eyes, in the few minutes before the service began. Hesings full well, and is most seemly in his ordering of matters. If hebe as discreet in the confessional as in his outer ministrations,methinks I shall like him well. Howbeit, he made a deal less impressionthan he would have done before my Lady's intention was announced. Whenwe filed out of the chapel, and assembled again in the recreation-room,the tongues were set loose, and I could see that the main stream of talkran on my Lady; only one here and there diverging to Father Mortimer. Isought out Joan, and asked if our new confessor were any kin to her.She could not tell me, beyond saying that she has three uncles andseveral cousins in the priesthood; but since, saving her uncle Walter,she has never seen any of them, she could not speak certainly withoutasking himself.

  I marvel I have not seen Margaret all this even, now I come to think. Iwas so taken up with the news concerning my Lady that I never thought tolook for her: and in chapel she sits on the Epistle side, as I do, sothat I see her not.

  This morrow my Lady called us into conclave, and made known herresignation, which she has already tendered to the Master: and bade usall farewell. She will not tarry with us, but goes into the daughterhouse at Cambridge; this somewhat surprises me, though I see it does notSister Gaillarde.

  "There'll be more stir there," said she.

  "Think you my Lady likes stir?" said I. "I have always reckoned her onethat loved not to be stirred."

  "Soothly," said Sister Gaillarde: "yet she loveth well to sit on hercushions, and gaze on the stir as a peep-show."

  A few hours later we were all again assembled in conclave, and theMaster himself with us, for election of a new Prioress. And after themass of the Holy Ghost we Mothers went round to gather up the votes. Itfell as I looked, and Sister Gaillarde is elected. In all the housethere were only nine that voted otherwise, and of these four were forSister Joan, two for Sister Ismania, and one each for Sisters Ada,Isabel, and myself. I feel sure that mine was Margaret's: and Joan saysshe is certain Sister Ada's was her own. I voted, as before, for SisterGaillarde, for truly I think her fittest of all for the place. Herordination fallows next week.

  "Verily," said Sister Ada, the next time we were at recreation, "I domarvel at Sister Gaillarde's manner of taking her election. Not oneword of humility or obedience, but just took it as if it were her right,and she were the most suitable person!"

  "Why, that was obedience, was it not?" responded Sister Ismania.

  "Obedience it might be, but it was not lowliness!" said Sister Ada,tartly. "If I had been elect--of course I do not mean that I expectedsuch a thing, not for a moment--I should have knelt down and kissed thechapel floor, and protested my sense of utter unworthiness andincapacity for such an office."

  Sister Isabel, who sat by me, said in a low voice,--"Maybe some of yourSisters would have agreed with you." And though I felt constrained togive her a look of remonstrance, I must say I thought with her. SisterAda as Prioress would have been a sore infliction.

  But now Sister Gaillarde herself came forward. I do not think SisterAda had known she was there, to judge from her change of colour.

  "Sister Ada," said she, "you are one of those surface observers whoalways fancy people do not feel what they do not say. Let me answer youonce for all, and any who think with you. As a sinner before God, I dofeel mine unworthiness, even to the lowest depth: and I am bound tohumble myself for all my sins, and not least for the pride which wouldfain think them few and small. But as for incapacity, I do not feelthat; and I shall not say what I do not feel. I think myself quitecapable of governing this house--I do not say as well as some might doit, but as well as most would do; and it would be falsehood andaffectation to pretend otherwise. I suppose, in condemning hypocrisy,our Lord did not mean that while we must not profess to be better thanwe are, we may make any number of professions, and tell any number offalsehoods, in order to appear worse than we are. That may be yournotion of holiness; but suffer me to say, it is not my notion ofhonesty. I mean to try and do my duty; and if any of my Sisters thinksI am not doing it, she will confer a favour on me if she will not talkit over with the other Sisters, but come straight to my rooms and tellme so. I promise to consider any such rebukes, honestly, as before God;and if on meditation and prayer I find that I have been wrong, I willconfess it to you. But if I think that it was simply done out of spiteor impertinence, that Sister will have a penance set her. I hope, now,we understand each other: and I beg the prayers of you all that I mayrule in the fear of God, showing neither partiality nor want ofsympathy, but walking in the right way, and keeping this house pure fromsin."

  Sister Ada made no answer whatever. Sister Ismania said, with muchfeeling--

  "Suffer me, Mother, to answer for the younger Sisters, and I trust theMothers will pardon me if I am over ready. Sure am I that the majorityof my Sisters will consent to my reply. We will indeed pray that youmay have the grace of perseverance in good works, and will strive toobey your holy directions in the right path. I ask every Sister whowill promise the same to say `_Placet_.'"

  There was a storm of _Placets_ in response. But unless I was mistaken,Sister Ada and Sister Roberga were silent.

  It was while she was an
swering "_Placet_" that I caught sight ofMargaret's face. What had happened to make her look thus white and wan,with the expressive eyes so full of tears behind them, which she couldnot or would not shed? I sat in pain the whole day until evening, andthe more because she seemed rather to avoid me. But at night, when wehad parted, and all was quiet in the dormitories, a very faint rap cameat the door of my cell. I bade the applicant enter in peace: andMargaret presented herself.

  "Annora!" she said, hesitating timidly.

  I knew what that meant.

  "Come to me, little Sister," I said.

  She came forward at once, closing the door behind her, and knelt down atmy feet. Then she buried her face in her hands, and laid face and handsupon my knee.

  "Let me weep!" she sobbed. "Oh, let me weep for a few moments insilence, and do not speak to me!"

  I kept silence, and she wept till her heart was relieved. When at lasther sobs grew quiet, she brushed her tears away, and looked up.

  "Bless thee, Annora! That has done me good. It is something to havesomebody who will say, `Little Sister,' and give one leave to weep inpeace. Dost thou know what troubles me?"

  "Not in the least, dear Margaret. That something was troubling thee Ihad seen, but I cannot guess what it was."

  "I shall get over it now," she said. "It is only the reopening of theold wound. Thou hast not guessed, then, who Father Mortimer is?"

  "Margaret!"

  "Ay, God has given my Roland back to me--yet has not given him. It istwenty years since we parted, and we are no longer young--nor, I hope,foolish. We can venture now to journey on, on opposite sides of theway, without being afraid of loving each other more than God. There canhardly be much of the road left now: and when it is over, the childrenwill meet in the safe fellowship of the Father's Home for ever. Dostthou know, Annora dear, I am almost surprised to find myself quite sochildish? I thought I should have borne such a meeting as calmly as anyone else,--as calmly as he did." There was a little break in her voice."He always had more self-control than I. Only I dare not confess tohim, for his own sake. He would be tempted either to partiality, or totoo much severity in order to avoid it. I must content myself withFather Benedict: and when I want Roland's teaching--those blessed wordswhich none ever gave to me but himself--wilt thou give me leave to tellthee, so that thou mayest submit the matter to him in thine ownconfession?"

  I willingly agreed to this: but I am sorry for my poor child. FatherBenedict is terribly particular and severe. I think Father Mortimercould scarcely be more so, however hard he was trying not to be partial.And I cannot help a little doubt whether his love has lasted like hers.Sweet Saint Mary! what am I saying? Do I not know that every sister,every priest, in this house would be awfully shocked to know that such athing could be? It is better it should not. And yet--my poor child!

  This house no longer holds a Sister or Mother Gaillarde. She is nowLady Prioress, having been ordained and enthroned this afternoon. Imust say the ceremony of vowing obedience felt to me less, not more,than that simple _Placet_ the other day, which seemed to come red-hotfrom the hearts that spake it.

  The Sister chosen to succeed her as Mother is Sister Ismania. I am gladof it, for she is certainly fittest for the place. Mother Joan becomesthe senior Mother.

  Our new Prioress does not let the grass grow under her feet, and is verydifferent from her predecessor. During the first week after herappointment, such quantities of household articles began to pour in--whereof, in sooth, we stood in grievous need--that we Mothers were atour wits' end where to put them. I thought the steward's man wouldnever have done coming to the grating with such announcements as--"Fivehundredweight of wax, if you please, ladies; a hundred pounds ofcandles, ladies; twenty oaks for firewood, ladies; two sacks of seacoal,ladies; ten pieces of nuns' cloth, ladies; a hundred ells of cloth oflinen, ladies; six firkins of speckled Bristol soap, ladies,"--cloth ofSarges [serge], cloth of Blanket [Note 1], cloth of Rennes; mops,bougets, knives, beds; cups, jugs, and amphoras; baskets by the dozen;quarters of wheat, barley, oats, beans, peas, and lentils; stockfish andling, ginger and almonds, pipes of wine and quarts of oil--nay, I cannottell what there was not. Sister Ada lost her temper early, and sorelybewailed her hard lot in having first to carry and find room for allthese things, and secondly to use them. The old ways had suited herwell enough: she could not think what my Lady wanted with all thismopping and scouring. Even Sister Joan said a little sarcastically thatshe thought my Lady must be preparing for the possibility of our havingto stand a siege. My Lady, who heard both behind their backs, smiledher grim smile and went on. She does not keep in her own rooms like thelast Prioress, but is here, there, and every where. Those of theSisters who are indolently inclined dislike her rule exceedingly. Formyself, I think in truth we have been going along too easily, and amglad to see the reins tightened and the horse admonished to be somewhatbrisker: yet I cannot say that I can always keep pace with my Lady, andat times I am aware of a feeling of being driven on faster than I can gowithout being out of breath, and perhaps risking a fall. A littleoccasional rest would certainly be a relief. Howbeit, life is ourworking-day: and there will be time to rest in Heaven.

  Joan tells me that she has had some talk with Father Mortimer, and findsthat her mother and he were cousins, he being the only son of hergrandfather's brother, Sir John de Mortimer, who died young in thetilt-yard [Note 2]. It is strange, passing strange, that he andMargaret should have been drawn to one another--he the nephew, and shethe daughter, of men who were deadly enemies. From what Joan saith, Ican gather that this grandfather of hers must have been a very evil manin many ways. I love not to hear of evil things and men, and I dosomewhat check her when she speaks on that head. Was it not for eatingof the tree of knowledge of good and evil that our first fathers wereturned out of Paradise? Yet the Psalmist speaks of God as "He thatteacheth man knowledge." I will ask Father Mortimer to explain it whenI confess.

  The time is not far off now when my child Joan must leave us, and Ishrink from it as it draws near. I would either that she were one ofus, or that I could go back to the world. Yet neither can be, seeingshe is wedded wife and mother: and for me, is not this the very carnalaffection which religious persons are bidden to root out of theirhearts? Yet the Apostle Saint John saith we are to love our brethren.How can I do both? Is it lawful to love, only so long as we love notone above another? But our Lord Himself had His beloved disciple: andsurely one's own mother must ever be more to her daughter than someother woman's mother? This also I will ask Father Mortimer.

  Lack-a-day! this world is full of puzzles, or rather it is this life. Iwould one might see the way a little clearer--might have, as it were, athread put into one's hand to guide one out of the labyrinth, like thatold Grecian story which we teach the children. Some folks seem to losetheir way easier than others; and some scarcely seem to behold anylabyrinth at all--they walk right through those matters which are wallsand hedges to others, and look as though they never perceived that anysuch things were there. Is it because of recklessness of right, or ofsingle-heartedness and sincerity?

  There are three matters to lay before Father Mortimer. I shall thinklong till the time come; and I hope he will be patient with me.

  So soon as I stepped forth of my cell this morrow, I was aware of a kindof soft sobbing at no great distance. I went towards it, and as Iturned the corner of the corridor, I came on a young novice, by nameDenise, who sat on the ground with a pail before her, and a flannel andpiece of soap on one side of it.

  "What is the matter, child?" said I.

  "Mother Ismania bade me scrub the boards," said she.

  "Well! wherefore no?"

  Denise fell a-sobbing yet more. For a minute or two might I not come atthe reason: but at the last I did--she was a kinswoman of Sir Michael deLa Pole, and thought it so degrading to be set to scrub boards!

  "Why, dear heart," said I, "we all do work of this fashion."

  "Oh yes, common
Sisters may," quoth she.

  "Well," said I, "we cannot be all uncommon. I ensure thee, Denise,there are here many daughters of better houses than thine. MotherIsmania herself is daughter of an offshoot of the Percys, and SisterIsabel is a Neville by her mother. My Lady is a Fitzhugh ofRavenswath."

  "Well, Sisters!" came from behind us in my Lady's most sarcastic voice,"you choose a nice time for comparing your pedigrees. Maybe it were aswell to leave that interesting amusement for recreation-time, and scrubthe corridor just now."

  Sister Denise melted again into tears, and I turned to explain.

  "Your pail looks pretty full, Sister," said my Lady grimly: "much morewater will make it overflow."

  "May it please you, Madam," said I, "Sister Denise is thus distressedbecause she, being a De La Pole, is set to scrubbing and such likemenial work."

  "Oh, is she, indeed?" laughed my Lady. "Sister, do you know what MotherAnnora is?"

  Sister Denise could only shake her head.

  "Her mother was grand-daughter to King Edward of Westminster," said myLady. "If we three were in the world, I should be scantly fit to bearher train and you would be little better than her washerwoman. But Inever heard her grumble to scour the corridor and she has done it moretimes than ever you thought about it. Foolish child, to suppose therewas any degradation in honest work! Was not our blessed Lord Himself acarpenter? I warrant the holy Virgin kept her boards clean, and did notsay she was too good to scrub. No woman alive is too good to do herduty."

  Sister Denise brake forth into fresh sobs.

  "A wa--wa--washerwoman! To be called a washerwoman! [Note 3.] Me,kinswoman of Sir Michael de La Pole, and Sir Richard to boot--awasherwo--woman!"

  "Don't be a goose!" said my Lady. "De La Pole, indeed! who be these DeLa Poles? Why, no more than merchants of Lombard Street, sellingtowelling at fivepence the ell, and coverchiefs of Cambray [Note 4] atseven shillings the piece. Truly a goodly pedigree to boast of thusloudly!"

  "But, Madam!" cries Sister Denise--her tears, methinks, burned up by hervexation--"bethink you, Sir Michael my cousin is a knight, and his wifethe Lady Katherine heiress of Wingfield, and the Lady Katherine hismother 'longeth to the knights De Norwich. And look you, his sister ismy Lady Scrope, and his cousin wedded the heir of the Lord Cobham ofKent."

  "Nay, tarry not there," said my Lady; "do go a bit further while thouart about it. Was not my Lady Joan Cobham's mother daughter to my Ladyof Devon, whose mother was daughter unto King Edward of Westminster--sothou art akin to the King himself? I cry thee mercy, my Lady Princess,that I set thee to scrub boards.--Sister Annora, prithee, let thisprincely damsel go to school for a bit--she's short of heraldry. Theheiress of Wingfield, _the_ Lady Katherine, forsooth! and the daughterof Sir John de Norwich a `Lady' at all! Why, child, we only call theKing's kinswomen _the_ Lord and Lady. As to thy cousin Sir Michael, heis a woolmonger and lindraper [linen draper. The _en_ is a corruption]that the King thought fit to advance, because it pleased him, and maybehe had parts [talents] of some sort. Sure thou hast no need to stick upthy back o' that count! To-morrow, Sister Denise, thou wilt please toclean the fire-dogs, and carry forth the ashes to the lye-heap.--Come,Sister Annora; I lack you elsewhere."

  Poor little Denise broke into bitterer tears than ever; but I could notstay to comfort her, for I had to follow my Lady.

  "I do vow, this world is full of fools!" said she, as we went along thecorridor. "We shall have Sister Parnel, next, protesting that she knowsnot how much oats be a bushel, and denying to rub in the salt to abacon, lest it should make her fingers sore. And 'tis always those whohave small reason that make fusses like this. A King's daughter, whenshe takes the veil, looks for no different treatment from the rest; buta squire's daughter expects to have a round dozen of her Sisters toldoff to wait upon her.--Sister Egeline, feathers for stuffing arethree-farthings a pound; prithee strew not all the floors therewith.(Sister Egeline had dropped no more than one; but my Lady is lynx-eyed.)Truly, it was time some one took this house in hand. Had my sometimeLady ruled it another twelvemonth, there would have been never a bit ofdiscipline left. There's none so much now. Sister Roberga had betterlook out. If she gives me many more pert answers, she'll find herselfbarred into the penitential cell on bread and water."

  By this time we had reached the kitchen. Sister Philippa was justcoming out of it, carrying one hand covered with her veil. My Lady cameto a sudden halt.

  "What have you there, Sister?"

  Sister Philippa looked red and confused.

  "I have cut my finger," she said.

  My Lady's hand went into her pocket.

  "Hold it forth," said she, "and I will bind it up. I always carry linenand emplasture."

  Sister Philippa made half a dozen lame excuses, but at last held out herleft hand, having (if I saw rightly) passed something into the other,under cover of her veil.

  "Which finger?" said my Lady, who to my surprise took no notice of heraction.

  "This," said Sister Philippa, holding out the first.

  My Lady studied it closely.

  "It must have healed quick," said she, "for I see never a scratch uponit."

  "Oh, then it is that," quoth Sister Philippa, holding forth the secondfinder.

  "I rather think, Sister, it is the other hand," said my Lady. "Let melook at that."

  As my Lady was holding Sister Philippa's left hand, she had no chance topass her hidden treasure into it. She held forth her right hand--fullunwillingly, as I saw--and something rustled down her gown and droppedwith a flop at her feet.

  "Pick that up, Sister Annora," said my Lady.

  I obeyed, and unfolding a German coverchief, found therein a flampoyntand three placentae [a pork pie and three cheesecakes].

  "What were you going to do with these?" said my Lady.

  "It's always my luck!" cried Sister Philippa. "Nothing ever prospers ifI do it. Saint Elizabeth's loaves turned into roses, but no saint thatliveth ever wrought a miracle for me."

  "It is quite as well, Sister, that evil deeds should not prosper," wasmy Lady's answer. "Saint Elizabeth was carrying loaves to feed thepoor. Was that your object? If so, you shall be forgiven; but nexttime, ask leave first."

  Sister Philippa grew redder.

  "Was that your intention?" my Lady persisted.

  "I am sure I am as poor as any body!" sobbed the Sister. "We never getany thing good. All the nice things we make go to the poor, or toguests. I can't see why one might not have a bite one's self."

  "Were you going to eat them yourself?"

  "One of them, I was: the others were for Sister Roberga."

  "Sister Roberga shall answer for herself. I will have no tale-tellingin my house. This evening at supper, Sister, you will stand at the endof the refectory, with that placenta in your hand, and say in thehearing of all the Sisters--`I stole this placenta from the kitchen, andI ask pardon of God and the Saints for that theft.' Then you may eatit, if you choose to do so."

  My Lady confiscated the remainder, leaving the placenta in SisterPhilippa's hand. She looked for a minute as if she would heartily liketo throw it down, and stamp on it: but either she feared to bring onherself a heavier punishment, or she did not wish to lose the dainty.She wrapped it in her coverchief, and went upstairs, sobbing as shewent.

  My Lady despatched Sister Marian at once to fetch Sister Roberga. Shecame, looking defiant enough, and confessed brazenly that she knew ofSister Philippa's theft, and had incited her to it.

  "I thought as much," said my Lady sternly, "and therefore I dealt themore lightly with your poor dupe, over whom I have suspected yourinfluence for evil a long while. Sister Annora, do you and SisterIsabel take this sinner to the penitential cell, and I will take counselhow to use her."

  We tried to obey: but Sister Roberga proved so unmanageable that we hadto call in three more Sisters ere we could lodge her in the cell. Atlong last we did it; but my arms ached for some time after.

  Siste
r Philippa performed her penance, looking very shamefaced: but sheleft the placenta on the table of the refectory, and I liked her all thebetter for doing so. I think my Lady did the same.

  Sister Roberga abode in the penitential cell till evening, when my Ladysent for the four Mothers: and we found there the Master himself, FatherBenedict, and Father Mortimer. The case was talked over, and it wasagreed that Sister Roberga should be transferred to Shuldham where, asis reported, the Prioress is very strict, and knows how to hold hercurb. This is practically a sentence of expulsion. We four all agreedthat she was the black sheep in the Abbey, and that several of theyounger Sisters--in especial Sister Philippa--would conduct themselvesfar better if she were removed. Sister Ismania was sent to tell her thesentence. She tossed her head and pretended not to care; but I cannotbelieve she will not feel the terrible disgrace. Oh, why do women enterinto the cloister who have no vocation? and, ah me! why is it forcedupon them?

  At last I have been to confession to Father Mortimer, and I think Iunderstand better what Margaret means, when she speaks of confessing toFather Benedict such things as he expects to hear. I never could seewhy it must be a sin to eat a lettuce without making the holy sign overit. Surely, if one thanks God for all He gives us, He will not beangered because one does not repeat the thanksgiving for every littleseparate thing. Such thoughts of God seem to me to be bringing Himdown, and making Him seem full of little foolish details like men--andlike the poorest-minded sort of men too. I see that people of highintellect, while they take much care of details that go to makeperfection--as every atom of a flower is beautifully finished--take nocare at all for mere trivialities--what my Lady calls fads--such as is,I think, making the sign of the cross over every mouthful one eats.Well, I made my confession and was absolved: and I told the priest thatI much wished to ask his explanation of various matters that perplexedme. He bade me say on freely.

  "Father," said I, "I pray you, tell me first, is knowledge good orevil?"

  "Solomon saith, my daughter, that `a wise man is strong;' and theprophet Osee laments that God's people are `destroyed for lack ofknowledge.' Our Lord chideth the lawyers of the Jews because they tookaway the key of knowledge: and Paul counted all things but loss for theknowledge of Jesu Christ. Here is wisdom. Why was Adam forbidden toeat of the tree of knowledge, seeing it was knowledge of good no lessthan evil? Partly, doubtless, to test his obedience: yet partly also, Ithink, because, though the knowledge might be good in itself, it was notgood for him. God never satisfies mere curiosity. He will tell theehow to come to Heaven; but what thou wilt find there, that He will nottell thee, save that He is there, and sin, suffering, and Sathanas, arenot there. He will aid thee to overcome thy sins: but how sin firstentered into the fair creation which He made so good, thou mayest ask,but He gives no answer. Many things there are, which perhaps we mayknow with safety and profit in Heaven, that would not be good for us toknow here on earth. Knowledge of God thou mayest have,--yea, to thefull, so far as thine earthen vessel can hold it, even here. Yetbeware, being but an earthen vessel, that thy knowledge puff thee notup. Then shall it work thee ill instead of good. Moreover, have noughtto do with knowledge of evil; for that is ill, altogether."

  "Then, how is it, Father," said I, "that some folks see their way somuch plainer than others, and never become tangled in labyrinths? Theyseem to see in a moment one thing to be done, and that only: not asthough they walked along a road which parted in twain, and knew notwhich turn to take."

  "There may be many reasons. Some have more wit than others, and thusperceive the best way. Some are less readily turned aside by minorconsiderations. Some let their will conflict with God's will: and somedesire to perceive His only, and to follow it."

  "Those last are perfect men," said I.

  "Ay," he made answer: "or rather, they are sinners whom Christ firstloved, and taught to love Him back. My daughter, love is the great clueto lead thee out of labyrinths. Whom lovest thou--Jesu Christ, orSister Alianora?"

  "Now, Father, you land me in my last puzzle. I have always been taught,ever since I came hither, a little child, that love of God and the holysaints is the only love allowed to a religious woman. All other love isworldly, carnal, and wicked. Tell me, is this true?"

  "No." The word came quick and curt.

  "Truly," said I, "it would give me great relief to be assured of that.The love of our kindred, then, is permitted?"

  "`Whoso loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love Godwhom he hath not seen? And this mandate we have from God: that he wholoveth God, love his brother also.'"

  "Father," said I, fairly enchanted to hear such words, "are those wordsof some holy doctor, such as Saint Austin?"

  "They are the words," saith he softly, "of the disciple that Jesu loved.He seems to have caught a glimmer of his Master."

  "But," said I, "doth it mean my mother's son, or only my brother inreligion?"

  "It can scarcely exclude thy mother's son," saith he somewhat drily."Daughter, see thou put God first: and love all other as much as everthou canst."

  "_Ha, jolife_!" cried I, "if the Church will but allow it."

  "What God commandeth," said he, "can not His Church disallow."

  Methought I heard a faint stress on the pronoun.

  "Father," said I, "are there more Churches than one?"

  "There is one Bride of Christ. There is also a synagogue of Satan."

  "Ah! that, I count, is the Eastern Church, that man saith hath departedfrom the faith."

  "They that depart from the faith make that Church. I fear they may sodo in the West as well as the East."

  "Well, in the most holy universal Church are counted both the holy RomanChurch, and our own mother, the Church of England," said I. "I know notif it include the Eastern schism or no."

  "All these," saith he, "are names of men, and shall perish. All that isof man must come to nought. The Church Catholic, true and holy, is notof man, but of God. In her is gathered every saved soul, whether hecome from the east or from the west, from the north or from the south.She is not Pauline, nor Petrine, nor Johannine, but Christian. Theheavenly Bridegroom cannot have two Brides. `One is My dove, My perfectone,' There are many counties in England; there is but one realm. Sothere are many so-called Churches: there is but one holy Church."

  "But to find her commands," I answered, "we must, I suppose, hearkeneach to his own branch of the Church?"

  "Her Lord's commands are hers. `Hear thou _Him_.' The day is coming,daughter, when the Scriptures of God's Word shall be all rendered intoEnglish tongue, and, I firmly trust, shall be accessible to every manthat chooses to know them. Pray thou heartily for that day; andmeanwhile, keep thou close following Christ's steps, to the best of thyknowledge, and entreat Him for pardon of all unknown sins. And when thelight of day is fully come, and the blessed lamp of Holy Writ placed inthe hands of the people, then come to the light that thou mayest clearlysee. For then woe, woe upon him that tarrieth in the shadow! `If thelight that is in thee be darkness, what darkness can equal it?'"

  "Father," said I, "I thank you, for you have much comforted me. Allthis while have I been trying not to love folks; and I find it full hardto do."

  "Battle with thy sins, Daughter, and let thy love alone. I counsel theeto beware of one thing, of which many need no warning to beware: I thinkthou dost. A thing is not sin because it is comfortable and pleasant;it is not good because it is hard or distasteful. Why mortify thy willwhen it would do good? It is the will to sin which must be mortified.When Christ bade His disciples to `love their enemies,' He did not meanthem to hate their friends. True love must needs be true concern forthe true welfare of the beloved. How can that be sin? It is not lovewhich will help man to sin! that love cometh of Sathanas, and is`earthly, sensual, devilish.' But the love which would fain keep manfrom sin,--this is God's love to man, and man cannot err in bestowing iton his brother."

  "But is it sin, Father, to prefer one in lov
e above another?"

  "It is sin to love man more than God. Short of that, love any one, andany how, that ever thou wilt. The day _may_ come--"

  He brake off suddenly. I looked up.

  "There were wedded priests in England, not an hundred years ago," [Note5] he said in a low voice. "And there were no monks nor nuns in thedays of the Apostles. The time may come--_Fiat voluntas Tua! Filia,pax tibi_."

  Thus gently dismissed, I rose up and came back into theilluminating-room, where I found Joan gathering together her brushes andother gear.

  "The last time!" she said, sadly--for she returns to her home to-morrow."Why is it that last times are always something sorrowful? I am goinghome to my Ralph and the children, and am right glad to do it: and yet Ifeel very mournful at the thought of leaving you, dear Mother Annora.Must it ever be so in this life, till we come to that last time of allwhen, setting forth on the voyage to meet Christ our Lord, we yet say`farewell' with a pang to them we leave behind?"

  "I reckon so, dear heart," said I, sighing a little. "But FatherMortimer hath comforted me by words that he saith are from Holy Writ--towit, that he which loveth God should love his brother likewise. Ialways wanted to love folks."

  "And always did it, dear Mother," said Joan with a laugh, casting herarms around my neck, "for all those chains of old rules and dustysuperstitions which are ever clanking about you. And I am going to loveyou, whatever rules be to the contrary, and of whomsoever made. Oh, whydid ill folks push you into this convent, when you might have come anddwelt with Ralph and me, and been such a darling grandmother to mylittle ones? There, now, I did not mean to make you look sorrowful. Iwill come and see you every year, if it be only for an hour's talk atthe grating; and my Lady, who is soft-hearted as she is rough-tongued,will never forbid it, I know."

  "Never forbid what, thou losenger?" [Flatterer.]

  Joan turned round, laughing.

  "Dear my Lady, you are ever where man looketh not for you. But I amsure you heard no ill of yourself. You will never forbid me to visit mydear Mother Annora; you love her, and you love me."

  "Truly a pretty tale!" saith my Lady, pretending (as I could see) tolook angry.

  "Now don't try to be angered with me," said Joan, "for I know youcannot. Now I must go and pack my saddle-bags and mails." [Trunks.]

  She went thence with her light foot, and my Lady looked somewhat sadlyafter her.

  "I love thee, do I, child?" saith she in another tone. "Ah, if I do,thou owest it less to anything in thee than to the name they wed theein. Help us, Mother of Mercy! Time was when I thought I, too, shouldone day have been a Greystoke. Well, well! God be merciful to us poordreamers, and poor sinners too!"

  Then, with slower step than she is wont, she went after Joan.

  My child is gone, and I feel like a bereaved mother. I shall see heragain, if it please God, but what a blank she has left! She says whennext Lent comes, if God will, she will visit us, and maybe bring withher her little Laurentia, that she named after my lost love, because shehad eyes like his. God bless her, my child Joan!

  Sister Roberga set forth for Shuldham the same day, in company withFather Benedict, who desired to travel that road, and in charge of twoof the brethren and of Sister Willa. I trust she may some day see hererrors, and amend her ways: but I cannot felicitate the community atShuldham on receiving her.

  So now we shall slip back into our old ways, so far as can be under aPrioress who assuredly will let none of us suffer the moss to grow uponher, body or soul, so far as she can hinder it. I hear her voice nowbeneath, in the lower corridor, crying to Sister Sigred, who is in thekitchen to-day--

  "Did ever man or woman see the like? Burning seacoal on thekitchen-fire! Dost thou mean to poison us all with that ill smoke?[Note 6.] And wood in the wood-house more than we shall use in half ayear! Forty logs came in from the King only yesterday, and ten from myLord of Lisle the week gone. Sister Sigred, when shall I put any sensein you?"

  "I don't know, Madam, I'm sure!" was poor Sister Sigred's ratherhopeless answer.

  I have found out at last what the world is. I am so glad! I askedFather Mortimer, and I told him how puzzled I was about it.

  "My daughter," said he, "thou didst renounce three things at thybaptism--the world, the flesh, and the Devil. The works of the fleshthou wilt find enumerated in Saint Paul's Epistle to the Galatians[Galatians 5, verses 19-21]: and they are _not_ `love, joy, peace,long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.'These are the fruits of the Spirit. What the Devil is, thou knowest.Let us then see what is the world. It lies, saith Saint John, in threethings: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride oflife. What are these? The lust of the flesh is not love, for that is afruit of the Spirit. It is self-love: worshipping thyself, comfortingthyself, advantaging thyself, and regarding all others as either toys orslaves for that great idol, thyself. The lust of the eye is notinnocent enjoyment of the gifts of God: doth a father give gifts to hischild in order that she may _not_ use and delight in them? It lies invaluing His gifts above His will; taking the gift and forgetting theGiver; robbing the altar of God in order to deck thine idol, and thatidol thyself. Covetousness, love of gain, pursuit of profit tothyself--these are idolatry, and the lust of the eye. The pride oflife--what is this? Once more, decking thyself with the property ofGod. Show and grandeur, pomp and vanity, revelling and folly--all toshow thee, to aggrandise thee, to delight thee. The danger of abidingin the world is lest the world get into thee, and abide in thee. Bewareof the thought that there is no such danger in the cloister. The worldmay be in thee, howsoever thou art out of the world. A queen may wearher velvet robes with a single eye to the glory of God, and a nun maywear her habit with a single eye to the glory of self. Fill thine heartwith Christ, and there will be no room left for the world. Fill thineheart with the world, and no room will be left for Christ. They cannotabide together; they are contrary the one to the other. Thou canst notsaunter along the path of life, arm-in-arm with the world, in pleasantintercourse. Her face is not toward the City of God: if thine be, yemust go contrary ways. `How can two walk together, except they beagreed' what direction to pursue? And remember, thou art one, and theworld is many. She is strong enough to pull thee round; thou art not atall likely to change her course. And the peril of such intercourse isthat the pulling round is so gradually effected that thou wilt never seeit."

  "But how am I to help it, Father?"

  "By keeping thine eye fixed on God. Set the Lord alway before thee. Solong as He is at thy right hand, thou shalt not be moved."

  Father Mortimer was silent for a moment; and when he spoke again, it wasrather to himself, or to God, than to me.

  "Alas for the Church of God!" he said. "The time was when her baptismalrobes were white and spotless; when she came out, and was separate, andtouched not the unclean thing. Hath God repealed His command thus todo? In no wise. Hath the world become holy, harmless, undefiled--nolonger selfish, frivolous, carnal, earth-bound? Nay, for it waxethworse and worse as the end draws nearer. Woe is me! has the Churchstepped down from her high position as the elect and select company ofthe sons of God, because these daughters of men are so fair andbewitching? Is she slipping back, sliding down, dipping low her oncehigh standard of holiness to the Lord, bringing down her aim to thelevel of her practice, because it suits not with her easy selfishness togird up her loins and elevate her practice to what her standard was andought to be? And she gilds her unfaithfulness, forsooth, with the nameof divine charity! saying, Peace, peace! when there is no peace. `Whatpeace, so long as the whoredoms of thy mother Jezebel and herwitchcrafts are so many?' They cry, `Speak unto us smooth things'--andthe Lord hath put none such in our lips. The word that He giveth us,that must we speak. And it is, `Come out of her, My people, that ye benot partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.' Yecannot remain and not partake the sins; and if ye partake the sins, thenshall ye receive the plagu
es. `What God hath joined together, let notman put asunder.'" [Note 7.]

  Thank God for this light upon my path! for coming from His Word, it mustbe light from Heaven. O my Lord, Thou art Love incarnate, and Thou hastbidden us to love each other. Thou hast set us in families, and chosenour relatives, our neighbours, our surroundings. From Thine hand wetake them all, and use them, and love them, in Thee, for Thee, to Thee."We are taught of God to love each other." We only love too much whenwe love ourselves, or when we love others above Thee. And "the commandwe have of Thee is that he who loveth Thee, love his brother also"--thelast word we hear from Thee is a promise that Thou wilt come again, andtake us--together, all--not to separate stars, but to be with Thee forever. Amen, Lord Jesu Christ, so let it be!

  It is several weeks since I have seen Margaret, otherwise than incommunity. But to-night I heard the timid little rap on my door, andthe equally timid "Annora?" which came after. When Margaret says thatword, in that tone, she wants a chat with me, and she means to inquiredeprecatingly if she may have it.

  "Come in, darling," I said.

  Since Father Mortimer gave me leave to love any one, any how, so long asI put God first, I thought I might say "darling" to Margaret. Shesmiled,--I fancied she looked a little surprised--and coming forward,she knelt down at my feet, in her favourite attitude, and laid herclasped hands in my lap.

  "Is there some trouble, Margaret?"

  "No, dear Annora. Only little worries which make one feel tired out:nothing to be properly called trouble. I am working under Mother Adathis week, and--well, you know what she is. I do not wish to speak evilof any one: only--sometimes, one feels tired. So I thought it wouldhelp me to have a little talk with my sister Annora. Art thou wearytoo?"

  "I think I am rested, dear," said I. "Father Mortimer has given me aword of counsel from Holy Writ, and it hath done me good."

  "He hath given me many an one," she saith, with a smile that seemed halfpleasure and half pain. "And I am trying to live by the light of thelast I had--I know not if the words were Holy Writ or no, but I thinkthe substance was--`If Christ possess thee, then shalt thou inherit allthings.'"

  She was silent for a moment, with a look of far-away thought: and I wasthinking that a hundred little worries might be as wearying and wearingas one greater trouble. Suddenly Margaret looked up with a laugh forwhich her eyes apologised.

  "I could not help thinking," she said, "that I hope `all things' have alimit. To inherit Mother Ada's temper would scarcely be a boon!"

  "All good things," said I.

  "Yes, all good things," she answered. "That must mean, all things thatour Lord sees good for us--which may not be those that we see good forourselves. But one thing we know--that if we be His, that must be,first of all, Himself--He with us here, we with Him hereafter. And nextto that comes the promise that they which are Christ's, with whom wehave to part here, will be brought home with us when He cometh. Thereis no restriction on the companying of the Father's children, when theyare gathered together in the Father's House."

  I knew what she saw. And I saw the dear grey eyes of my child Joan; butbehind them, other eyes that mine have not beheld for fifty years, andthat I shall see next--and then for ever--in the light of the GoldenCity. Softly I said--[Note 8.]

  "`_Hic breve vivitur, hic breve plangitur, hic breve fletur; Non breve vivitur, non breve plangitur, retribuetur_.'"

  Margaret's reply sounded like the other half of an antiphon. [Note 9.]

  "`_Plaude, cinis meus! est tua pars Deus; ejus es, et sis_.'"

  ------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Note 1. The early notices of blanket in the Wardrobe Accounts disprovethe tradition that blankets were invented by Edward Blanket, buried inSaint Stephen's Church, Bristol, the church not having been built until1470.

  Note 2. Father Mortimer is a fictitious person, this Sir John having inreality died unmarried.

  Note 3. Laundresses were very much looked down on in the Middle Ages,and were but too often women of bad character.

  Note 4. Cambric handkerchiefs. It was then thought very mean to be intrade.

  Note 5. Married priests existed in England as late as any where, if notlater than in other countries. Walter, Rector of Adlingfleet, marriedAlice niece of Savarie Abbot of York, about the reign of Richard theFirst. (Register of John of Gaunt, volume 2, folio 148); "Emma, widowof Henry, the priest of Forlond," was living in 1284 (Close Roll, 12Edward the First); and "Denise, daughter of John de Colchester, thechaplain," is mentioned in 1322 (Ibidem, 16 Edward the Second).

  Note 6. Coal smoke was then considered extremely unhealthy, while woodsmoke was thought to be a prophylactic against consumption.

  Note 7. I would fain add here a word of warning against one of Satan'swiliest devices, one of the saddest delusions of our time, for amultitude of souls are led astray by it, and in some cases it deceivesthe very elect. I mean the popular blind terror of "controversy," sorife in the present day. Let us beware that we suffer not indolence andcowardice to shelter themselves under the insulted name of charity. Weare bidden to "strive together for the truth of the Gospel"--"earnestlyto contend for the faith" (in both places the Greek word means to_wrestle_); words which presuppose an antagonist and a controversy.Satan hates controversy; it is the spear of Ithuriel to him. We areoften told that controversy is contrary to the Gospel precepts of loveto enemies--that it hinders more important work--that it injuresspirituality. What says the Apostle to whom to live was Christ--on whomcame daily the care of all the Churches--who tells us that "the greatestof these is charity"? "Though we, or an angel from Heaven, preach anyother Gospel--let him be accursed!" "To whom we gave place bysubjection, no, not for an hour: that the truth of the Gospel mightcontinue with you." Ten minutes of friendly contact with the world willdo more to injure spirituality than ten years of controversy conductedin a Christian spirit--not fighting for victory but for truth, not forourselves but for Christ. This miserable blunder will be seen in itstrue colours by those who have to eat its bitter fruit.

  Note 8.

  "Brief life is here our portion; Brief sorrow, short-lived care: The life that hath no ending, The tearless life, is there."

  Note 9.

  "Exult, O dust and ashes! The Lord shall be thy part: His only, His for ever, Thou shalt be, and thou art."

  APPENDIX.

  HISTORICAL APPENDIX.

  I. THE ROYAL FAMILY.

  King Edward the Second was _born_ at Caernarvon Castle (but not, astradition states, in the Eagle Tower, not then built), April 25, 1284;_crowned_ at Westminster Abbey, August 6, 1307, by the Bishop ofWinchester, acting as substitute for the Archbishop of Canterbury. Thegilt spurs were borne by William le Mareschal; "the royal sceptre onwhose summit is the cross" by the Earl of Hereford (killed in rebellionagainst the King) and "the royal rod on whose summit is the dove" byHenry of Lancaster, afterwards Earl: the Earls of Lancaster, Lincoln,and Warwick--of whom the first was beheaded for treason, and the thirddeserved to be so--bore the three swords, Curtana having the precedence:then a large standard (or coffer) with the royal robes, was carried bythe Earl of Arundel, Thomas de Vere (son and heir of the Earl ofOxford), Hugh Le Despenser, and Roger de Mortimer, the best friend andthe worst enemy of the hapless Sovereign: the King's Treasurer carried"the paten of the chalice of Saint Edward," and the Lord Chancellor thechalice itself: "then Peter de Gavaston, Earl of Cornwall, bore thecrown royal," followed by King Edward himself, who offered a goldenpound as his oblation. The coronation oath was administered in French,in the following terms. "Sire, will you grant and keep and confirm byoath to the people of England, the laws and customs to them granted bythe ancient Kings of England, your predecessors, the rights anddevotions [due] to God, and especially the laws, customs, and franchisesgranted to the clergy and people by the glorious King, Saint Edward,your predecessor?" "I grant and promise them," was the royal answer."Sire, will you pre
serve, towards God and holy Church, and to the clergyand people, peace and concord in God, fully, according to your power?""I will keep them," said the King. "Sire, will you in all yourjudgments do equal and righteous justice and discretion, in mercy andtruth, according to your power?" "I will so do." "Sire, will yougrant, to be held and kept, the righteous laws and customs which thecommonalty of your realm shall choose, and defend them, and enforce themto the honour of God and according to your power?" King Edward's answerwas, "I grant and promise them." Twenty years later, chiefly by themachinations of his wicked wife, aided by the blinded populace whom shehad diligently misled, Edward was _deposed_ at Kenilworth, January 20,1327; and after being hurried from place to place, he was at last_murdered_ in Berkeley Castle, September 21, 1327, and _buried_ inGloucester Cathedral on December 20th.

  In the companion volume, _In All Time of our Tribulation_, will be foundthe story, as told by the chroniclers, of his burial by the Abbot andmonks of Gloucester. The Wardrobe Accounts, however, are found to throwconsiderable doubt upon this tale. We find from them, that the Bishopof Llandaff, three knights, a priest, and four lesser officials, weresent by the young King "to dwell at Gloucester with the corpse of thesaid King his father," which was taken from Berkeley Castle toGloucester Abbey on October 21st. (_Compotus Hugonis de Glaunvill_,Wardrobe Accounts, 1 Edward the Third, 58/4). For the funeral wereprovided:--Three robes for knights, 2 shillings 8 pence each; 8 tunicsfor ditto, 14 pence each; four great lions of gilt picture-work, withshields of the King's arms over them, for wax mortars [square basinsfilled with wax, a wick being in the midst], placed in four parts of thehearse; four images of the Evangelists standing on the hearse, 66shillings, 8 pence; eight incensing angels with gilt thuribles, and twogreat leopards rampant, otherwise called volant, nobly gilt, standingoutside the hearse, 66 shillings, 8 pence... An empty tun, to carry thesaid images to Gloucester, 21 shillings... Taking the great hearse fromLondon to Gloucester, in December, 5 days' journey; for wax, canvas,napery, etcetera. Wages of John Darcy, appointed to superintend thefuneral, from November 22 to December 21, 19 pounds, 6 shillings, 8pence. New hearse, 40 shillings; making thereof, from November 24 toDecember 11, 32 shillings. A wooden image after the similitude of theLord King Edward, deceased, 40 shillings. A crown of copper, gilt, 7shillings, 4 pence. Vestments for the body, in which he was buried, aGerman coverchief, and three-quarters [here a word is illegible,probably _linen_]; item, one pillow to put under his head, 4 shillings[? the amount is nearly obliterated]. Gilt paint for the hearse, 1shilling. Wages of the painter [a few words illegible] grey colour, 2shillings, (Wardrobe Accounts, 1 Edward the Third, 33/2). The King_married_...

  Isabelle, _surnamed_ the Fair, only daughter of Philippe the Fourth,King of France, and Jeanne Queen regnant of Navarre: _born_ 1282, 1292,or 1295 (latest date most probable); _married_ at Boulogne, January 25,1308. All the chroniclers assert that on Edward the Third's discoveryof his mother's real character, he imprisoned her for life in the Castleof Rising. The evidence of the Rolls and Wardrobe Accounts disprovesthis to a great extent. It was at Nottingham Castle that Mortimer wastaken, October 19, 1330. On the 18th of January following, 36 pounds 6shillings 4 pence was paid to Thomas Lord Wake de Lydel, for the expenseof conducting Isabel Queen of England, by the King's order, fromBerkhamsted Castle to Windsor Castle, and thence to Odiham Castle.(Issue Roll, _Michs._, 5 Edward the Third.) On the 6th of October,1337, she dates a charter from Hertford Castle; and another from Risingon the 1st of December following. She paid a visit to London--the onlyone hitherto traced subsequent to 1330--in 1341, when, on October 27,she was present in the hostel of the Bishop of Winchester at Southwark,when the King appointed Robert Parving to the office of Lord Chancellor.She dates a charter from Hertford Castle, December 1st, 1348. (CloseRolls, 11, 15, and 22 Edward the Third.) The Household Book for thelast year of her life is in the British Museum, and it runs fromSeptember 30th, 1357, to December 4th, 1358 (Cott. Ms., Galba, E. 14).We find from this interesting document that she spent her final yearmainly at Hertford, but that she also made two pilgrimages toCanterbury, visiting London on each occasion; that she was at LedesCastle, Chertsey, Shene, Eltham, and Windsor. The King visits her morethan once, and several of his children do the same, including thePrincess Isabel. There is no mention of any visit from the Queen, butshe corresponds with her mother-in-law, and they exchange gifts. Themost frequent guests are Joan Countess of Surrey, and the Countess ofPembroke: there were then three ladies living who bore this title, butas letters are sent to her at Denny--her pet convent, where she oftenresided and finally died--it is evident that this was the CountessMarie, the "fair Chatillon who (_not_ `on her bridal morn,' but at leasttwo years after) mourned her bleeding love." Both these ladies were ofFrench birth, and were very old friends of Isabelle: the Countess ofSurrey was with her when she died. Her youngest daughter, Joan Queen ofScots--an admirable but unhappy woman, who had to forgive that motherfor being the cause of all her misery and loveless life--spent much ofthis last year with Isabel. Her most frequent male guests are the Earlof Tankerville and Marshal Daudenham, both of whom were probably her owncountrymen; and Sir John de Wynewyk, Treasurer of York: the captive Kingof France visits her once, and she sends him two romances, of which oneat least was from the _Morte Arthur_. Oblations are as numerous--andsometimes more costly--as in her earlier accounts. She gives 6shillings 8 pence to the _head_ of the eleven thousand virgins, and 2shillings to minstrels to play "before the image of the blessed Mary inthe crypt" of Canterbury Cathedral. Friars who preach before her areusually rewarded with 6 shillings 8 pence. Her Easter robes are of bluecloth, her summer ones of red mixed cloth. Two of Isabelle's rulingpassions went with her to the grave--her extravagance and her love ofmaking gifts. Her purchases of jewellery are vast and costly duringthis year, up to the very month in which she died: two of the latestbeing a gold chaplet set with precious stones, price 150 pounds (themost expensive I ever yet saw in a royal account), and a gold crown setwith sapphires, Alexandrian rubies, and pearls, 80 pounds, expresslystated to be for her own wearing. Two ruby rings she purchased exactlya fortnight before her death. She was probably ill for some weeks,since a messenger was sent in haste to Canterbury to bid Master Lawrencethe physician repair to Hertford "to see the state of the Queen," and heremained there for a month. Medicines were brought from London.Judging from the slight indications as to remedies employed, among whichwere herbal baths, she died of some cutaneous malady. Her Inquisitionstates that her _death_ took place at Hertford, August 23rd, 1358; butthe Household Book twice records that it was on the 22nd. Fourteen poormen watched the corpse in the chapel at Hertford for three months, andin December the coffin (the entire cost of which was 5 pounds, 9shillings, 11 pence) was brought to London, guarded by 40 torches, and_buried_ in the Church of the Grey Friars. It may be stated withtolerable certainty that the Queen was not confined for life at RisingCastle, though she passed most of her time either at Rising or Hertford;that she never became a nun, as asserted by some modern writers, thenon-seclusion, the coloured robes, and the crown, being totallyinconsistent with this supposition; that if it be true, as is said, thatshe was seized with madness while Mortimer hung on the gallows, andpassed most of her subsequent life in this state, probably with lucidintervals--a story which various facts tend to confirm--this was quitesufficient to account for her retirement from public life, and ordinaryrestriction to a few country residences; yet that the incidentschronicled in the Household Book seem to indicate that she wasgenerally, if not fully, sane at the time of her death.

  _Their children_:--1. King Edward the Third, _born_ in Windsor Castle,November 13, _baptised_ 16th, 1312; _crowned_ Westminster, February 1,1327. The Rolls of the Great Wardrobe for 1327 contain some interestingdetails respecting this ceremony. The King was attired in a tunic,mantle, and cape of purple velvet, price 5 shillings (but this isprobably the mere cost of making), and a pair of slippers of cloth ofgold, price 6 shillings 8 pence. H
e was anointed in a tunic ofsamitelle (a variety of samite), which cost 2 shillings, and a robe ofRennes linen, price 18 pence. A quarter of an ell of sindon (silk) wasbought "for the King's head, to place between the head and the crown, onaccount of the largeness of the crown," at a cost of 12 pence. (_Rot.Gard._, 1 Edward the Third, 33/2). The "great hall" at Westminster washung with six cloths and twelve ells of cloth from Candlewick Street andfifteen pieces of cloth were required "to put under his feet, going tothe Abbey, and thence to the King's chamber after the coronation." Theplatform erected in the Abbey to sustain the throne, and the throneitself, were hung with silk cloth of gold; five camaca cushions wereplaced "under the King and his feet;" and "the King's small chair beforethe altar" was also covered with cloth of gold. The royal oblation wasone cloth of gold of diapered silk. Two similar cloths were laid overthe tomb of Edward the first. The Archbishop of Canterbury's seat wascovered with ray (striped) silk cloth of gold, and that of the Abbot ofWestminster with cloth of Tars. The royal seat at the coronation feastwas draped in "golden silk of Turk," and in order to save this costlycovering from "the humidity of the walls," 24 ells of canvas wereprovided. Red and grey sindon hung before the royal table; the King saton samitelle cushions, and two pieces of velvet "to put under the King"also appear in the account. (_Rot. Magnae Gard., pro Coronatione et inPalatio_, 1 Edward the Third, 33/5.) King Edward _died_ at Shene, June21, 1377, and was _buried_ in Westminster Abbey. He _married_--Philippine (called in England Philippa), daughter of William the Third,Count of Hainault and Holland, and Jeanne of France; _born_ 1312 or alittle later; _married_ at York, January 24, 1328; crowned inWestminster Abbey, February 20, 1328. The Wardrobe Accounts tell usthat the Queen rode from the Tower to Westminster, the day before hercoronation (as was usual) in a dress of green velvet, a cape of the_best_ cloth of gold diapered in red, trimmed with miniver, and aminiver hood. She dined in a tunic and mantle of red and greysamitelle, and was crowned in a robe of cloth of gold, diapered ingreen. She changed to a fourth robe for supper, but its materials arenot on record. (Wardrobe Accounts, 4-5 Edward the Third, 34/13.) Redand green appear to have been her favourite colours, judging from thenumber of her dresses of these hues compared with others. On theoccasion of her churching in 1332 (after the birth of her daughterIsabel) she wore a robe of red and purple velvet wrought with pearls,the royal infant being attired in Lucca silk and miniver, and the BlackPrince (aged about 2 and a half years) in a golden costume striped withmulberry colour. Some of these items appear rather warm wear for July.(Wardrobe Accounts, Cott. Ms. Galba, E. 3, folio 14 _et seq_). TheQueen _died_ of dropsy, at Windsor Castle, August 15, 1369; _buried_ inWestminster Abbey.

  2. John, _born_ at Eltham, August 15, 1316; created Earl of Cornwall;_died_ at Perth, _unmarried_, September 14, 1336; _buried_ inWestminster Abbey.

  3. Alianora, _born_ at Woodstock, 1318; _married_ at Novum Magnum,1332, Raynald the Second, Duke of Gueldres; _died_ at Deventer, April22, 1355; _buried_ at Deventer.

  4. Joan, _surnamed_ Makepeace, _born_ in the Tower of London, (beforeAugust 16,) 1321; _married_ at Berwick, July 17, 1328, David the Second,King of Scotland; _died_ at Hertford Castle, September 7, 1362 (not1358, as sometimes stated); _buried_ in Grey Friars' Church, London.

  II. THE DESPENSERS.

  Hugh Le Despenser _the Elder_, son of Hugh Le Despenser, Justiciary ofEngland, and Alina Basset: _born_ March 1-8, 1261 (_Inq. Post MortemAlinae La Dispensere_, 9 Edward the First, 9.); sponsor of Edward theThird, 1312; created Earl of Winchester, 1322; _beheaded_ at Bristol,October 27 (Harl. Ms. 6124), 1326. [This is not improbably the truedate: that of Froissart, October 8, is certainly a mistake, as the Queenhad only reached Wallingford, on her way to Bristol, by the 15th.] Ashis body was cast to the dogs, he had _no burial_. _Married_ Isabel,daughter of William de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, and Maud Fitz John;_widow_ of Patrick de Chaworth (by whom she was mother of Maud, wife ofHenry Duke of Lancaster): _married_ 1281-2 (fine 2000 marks); _died_before July 22, 1306. _Issue_:--1. Hugh, _the Younger_, _born_probably about 1283; created Earl of Gloucester in right of wife;_hanged_ and afterwards beheaded (but after death) at Hereford, November24, 1326; quarters of body sent to Dover, Bristol, York, and Newcastle,and head set on London Bridge; finally _buried_ in Tewkesbury Abbey.The Abbot and Chapter had granted to Hugh and Alianora, March 24, 1325,in consideration of benefits received, that four masses per annum shouldbe said for them during life, at the four chief feasts, and 300 perannum for either or both after death, for ever; on the anniversary ofHugh, the Abbot bound himself to feed the poor with bread, beer,pottage, and one mess from the kitchen, for ever. (_Rot. Pat._, 20Edward the Second) In the Appendix to the companion volume, _In All Timeof our Tribulation_, will be found an account of the petitions of thetwo Despensers, with the curious list of their goods destroyed by thepartisans of Lancaster. Hugh the Younger _married_ Alianora, eldestdaughter of Gilbert de Clare, The Red, Earl of Gloucester, and thePrincess Joan of Acre, (daughter of Edward the First), _born_ atCaerphilly Castle, November, 1292; _married_ May 20, 1306, with a dowryof 2000 pounds from the Crown, in part payment of which the custody ofPhilip Paynel was granted to Hugh the Elder, June 3, 1304 (_Rot.Claus._, 1 Edward the Second). Her youngest child was born atNorthampton, in December, 1326, and she sent William de Culpho with thenews to the King, who gave him a silver-gilt cup in reward (WardrobeAccounts, 25/1 and 31/19). On the 19th of April, 1326, and for 49 daysafterwards, she was in charge of Prince John of Eltham, who was ill atKenilworth in April. She left that place on May 22, arriving at Shenein four days, and in June she was at Rochester and Ledes Castle. Threeinteresting Wardrobe Accounts are extant, showing her expenses at thistime (31/17 to 31/19); but the last is almost illegible. "Diversdecoctions and recipes" made up at Northampton for the young Prince,came to 6 shillings, 9 pence. "Litter for my Lady's bed" (to put underthe feather bed in the box-like bedstead) cost 6 pence. Either herLadyship or her royal charge must have entertained a strong predilectionfor "shrimpis," judging from the frequency with which that entry occurs.Four quarters of wheat, we are told, made 1200 loaves. There isevidence of a good deal of company, the principal guests beside Priorsand Canons being the Lady of Montzone, the Lady of Hastings (Julian,mother of Lawrence Earl of Pembroke), Eneas de Bohun (son of PrincessElizabeth), Sir John Neville (one of the captors of Mortimer), and Johnde Bentley (probably the ex-gaoler of Elizabeth Queen of Scotland, whoappears in the companion volume). Sundry young people seem to have beenalso in Lady La Despenser's care, as companions to the Prince:--EarlLawrence of Pembroke; Margery de Verdon, step-daughter of Alianora'ssister Elizabeth; and Joan Jeremy, or Jermyn, sister of Alice wife ofPrince Thomas de Brotherton. The provision for April 30, the vigil ofSaint Philip, and therefore a fast-day, is as follows (a few words areillegible): _Pantry_:--60 loaves of the King's bread at 5 and 4 to thepenny, 13 and a half pence. _Buttery_:--One pitcher of wine from theKing's stores at Kenilworth; 22 gallons of beer, at 1 and a half penceper gallon, 2 shillings 6 pence. _Wardrobe_: ... lights, a farthing; ahalfpennyworth of candles of cotton ... _Kitchen_:--50 herrings, 2 anda half pence; 3 codfish, 9 and three-quarter pence; 4 stockfish...salmon, 12 pence, 3 tench, 9 pence, 1 pikerel, 12 roach and perch, halfa gallon of loaches, 13 and a half pence; one large eel... One and ahalf quarters pimpernel, 7 and a half pence; one piece of sturgeon, 6pence. _Poultry_--100 eggs, 5 pence; cheese and butter, 3 andthree-quarter pence... milk, one and a quarter pence; drink, 1 penny;_Saltry_:--half a quarter; mustard, a halfpenny; half a quarter ofvinegar, three-quarters pence; ... parsley, a farthing. For May 1st,Saint Philip's and a feast-day: _Pantry_: 100 loaves, 22 and a halfpence. _Buttery_: one sextarius, 3 and a half pitchers of wine from theKing's stores at Kenilworth; 27 gallons of beer, 2 shillings, 8 and ahalf pence, being 17 at 1 penny, and 12 at 1 and a half pence. Onequarter of hanaps, 12 pence. _Wardrobe_:--3 pounds wax, 15 pence;lights, 1 halfpenny; half a pound of candles of Paris, 1 penny._Kitchen_:--12 messes of powdered beef, 18 pence; 3 m
esses of freshbeef, 9 pence; one piece of bacon, 12 pence; half a mutton, powdered, 9pence; one quarter of fresh mutton, 3 pence; one pestle of pork, 3 and ahalf pence; half a veal, 14 pence. _Poultry_--One purcel, 4 and a halfpence; 2 hens, 15 pence; one bird (_oisoux_), 12 pence; 15 ponce, 7 anda half pence; 8 pigeons, 9 and a half pence; 100 eggs, 5 pence; 3gallons milk, 3 pence... _Saltry_:--half a quarter of mustard, onehalfpenny... 1 quarter verjuice, 1 and a half pence; garlic, a farthing;parsley, 1 penny. Wages of Richard Attegrove (keeper of the horses) andthe laundress, 4 pence; of 18 grooms and two pages, 2 shillings, 5pence. (Wardrobe Accounts, 19 Edward the Second, 31/17). When KingEdward left London for the West, on October 2nd, he committed to Lady LaDespenser the custody of his son, and of the Tower. On the 16th, thecitizens captured the Tower, brought out the Prince and the Chatelaine,and conveyed them to the Wardrobe. On November 17th she was brought aprisoner to the Tower, with her children and her damsel Joan (IssueRoll, _Michs._, 20 Edward the Second; Close Roll, 20 Edward the Second),their expenses being calculated at the rate of 10 shillings per day.Alianora and her children were delivered from the Tower, with all hergoods and chattels, on February 25, 1328, and on the 26th of Novemberfollowing, her "rights and rents, according to her right and heritage,"were ordered to be restored to her. (_Rot. Claus._, 2 Edward theThird.) She was not, however, granted full liberty, or else sheforfeited it again very quickly; for on February 5, 1329, William LordZouche of Haringworth was summoned to Court, and commanded to "bringwith him quickly our cousin Alianora, who is in his company," with ahint that unpleasant consequences would follow neglect of the order.(_Rot. Pat._, 3 Edward the Third, Part 1.) A further entry on December30 tells us that Alianora, wife of William La Zouche of Mortimer (sothat her marriage with her gaoler's cousin had occurred in the interim),had been impeached by the Crown concerning certain jewels, florins, andother goods of the King, to a large amount, which had been "_esloignez_"from the Tower of London: doubtless by the citizens when they seized thefortress, and the impeachment was of course, like many other things, anoutcome of Queen Isabelle's private spite. "The said William andAlianora, for pardon of all hindrances, actions, quarrels, and demands,until the present date, have granted, of their will and withoutcoercion, for themselves and the heirs of the said Alianora, allcastles, manors, towns, honours, and other lands and tenements, being ofher heritage, in the county of Glamorgan and Morgannon, in Wales, themanor of Hanley, the town of Worcester, and the manor of Tewkesbury, forever, to the King." The King, on his part, undertook to restore thelands, in the hour that the original owners should pay him 10,000 poundsin one day. The real nature of this non-coercive and voluntaryagreement was shown in November, 1330, when (one month after the arrestof Mortimer) at the petition of Parliament itself, one half of this10,000 pounds was remitted. Alianora _died_ June 30, 1337, and was_buried_ in Tewkesbury Abbey.

  2. Philip, _died_ before April 22, 1214. _Married_ Margaret, daughterof Ralph de Goushill; _born_ July 25, 1296; _married_ before 1313;_died_ July 29, 1349. (She _married_, secondly, John de Ros.)

  3. Isabel, _married_ (1) John Lord Hastings (2) about 1319, Ralph deMonthermer; _died_ December 4 or 5, 1335. Left issue by first marriage.The daughters of Edward the Second were brought up in her care.

  4. Aveline, _married_ before 1329, Edward Lord Burnel; _died_ in May orJune, 1363. No issue.

  5. Elizabeth, _married_ before 1321 Ralph Lord Camoys; living 1370.Left issue.

  6. Joan, _married_ Almaric Lord Saint Amand. [Doubtful if of thisfamily.]

  7. Joan, _nun_ at Sempringham before 1337; _dead_, February 15.

  8. Alianora, _nun_ at Sempringham before 1337; living 1351. _Issue ofHugh the younger and Alianora_;--1. Hugh, _born_ 1308. He heldCaerphilly Castle (which belonged to his mother) against Queen Isabelle:on January 4 of that year life was granted to all in the Castle excepthimself, probably as a bribe for surrender, which was extended tohimself on March 20; but Hugh held out till Easter (April 12) when theCastle was taken. He remained a prisoner in the custody of his father'sgreat enemy, Roger Earl of March, till December 5, 1328, when March wasordered to deliver him to Thomas de Gournay, one of the murderers ofKing Edward, and Constable of Bristol Castle, where he was to be kepttill further order. (_Rot. Claus._, 1 and 2 Edward the Third; _Rot.Pat._, 1 Edward the Third.) On July 5, 1331, he was ordered to be setat liberty within 15 days after Michaelmas, Ebulo L'Estrange, RalphBasset, John le Ros, Richard Talbot, and others, being sureties for him.(_Rot. Claus._, 5 Edward the Third) In 1338 he was dwelling in Scotlandin the King's service (_Ibidem_, 12 Edward the Third); and in 1342 inGascony, with a suite of one banneret, 14 knights, 44 scutifers, 60archers, and 60 men-at-arms. (_Ibidem_, 16 _ibidem_). He _died_ S.P.February 8, 1349; _buried_ at Tewkesbury. _Married_ Elizabeth, daughterof William de Montacute, first Earl of Salisbury, and Katherine deGrandison; (_widow_ of Giles Lord Badlesmere, _remarried_ Guy de Bryan;)_married_ 1338-44; _died_ at Astley, June 20, 1359; _buried_ atTewkesbury.

  2. Edward, _died_ 1341. _Married_ (and left issue), Anne, daughter ofHenry Lord Ferrers of Groby, and Margaret Segrave (_remarried_ ThomasFerrers): living October 14, 1366.

  3. Gilbert, _died_ April 22, 1382. _Married_, and left issue; but hiswife's name and family are unknown.

  4. Joan, _nun_ at Shaftesbury, in or before 1343; _died_ April 26,1384.

  5. Elizabeth, _married_ 1338 Maurice Lord Berkeley; _dead_ August 14,1389; left issue. [Doubtful if of this family.]

  6. Isabel, _married_ at Havering, February 9, 1321, Richard Earl ofArundel; _divorced_ 1345; _buried_ in Westminster Abbey. No issue.

  7. Alianora, contracted July 27, 1325, to Lawrence de Hastings, Earl ofPembroke: contract broken by Queen Isabelle, who on January 1st, 1327,sent a mandate to the Prioress of Sempringham, commanding her to receivethe child and "veil her immediately, that she may dwell thereperpetually as a regular nun." (_Rot. Claus._, 1 Edward the Third.)Since it was not usual for a nun to receive the black veil before hersixteenth year, this was a complete irregularity. Nothing further isknown of her.

  8. Margaret, consigned by Edward the Second to the care of Thomas deHouk, with her nurse and a large household; she remained in his charge"for three years and more," according to his petition presented to theKing, May 1st, 1327 (_Rot. Claus._, 1 Edward the Third.) On theprevious 1st of January, the Queen had sent to the Prioress of Watton asimilar mandate to that mentioned above, requiring that Margaret shouldat once be professed a regular nun. No further record remains of her.

  III. HASTINGS OF PEMBROKE.

  John de Hastings, second (but eldest surviving) son of Sir John deHastings and Isabelle de Valence: _born_ 1283, _died_ (before February28) 1325. _Married_ Julian, daughter and heir of Thomas de Leybourneand Alice de Tony; _born_ 1298, or 1303; succeeded her grandfatherWilliam as Baroness de Leybourne, 1309; _married_ before 1321. Bycharter dated at Canterbury, March 5th, 1362, she gave a grant to theAbbey of Saint Augustine in that city, for the following benefits to bereceived: a mass for herself on Saint Anne's Day, with twopence alms toeach of 100 poor; a solemn choral mass on her anniversary, and 1 pennyto each of 200 poor; perpetual mass by a secular chaplain at the altarof Saint Anne, for Edward the Third, Lawrence Earl of Pembroke, and Johnhis son; all monks celebrating at the said altar to have mind of thesaid souls. On the day of her anniversary the Abbot was to receive 20shillings, the Prior 5 shillings, and each monk 2 shillings, 6 pence.(_Rot. Claus._, 36 Edward the Third.) She died November 1st, 1367, andwas _buried_ in Saint Augustine's Abbey. (She had _married_, secondly,in 1325, Sir Thomas Blount, Seneschal of the Household to Edward theSecond, who betrayed his royal master; and, thirdly, in 1328, William deClinton, afterwards created Earl of Huntingdon.)

  _Their son_:--Lawrence, born at Allesley, near Coventry, March 20, 1321(_Prob. Aet._, 15 Edward the Third, 1st Numbers, 48); in 1326 he was inthe suite of Prince John of Eltham, and in the custody of his intendedmother-in-law, Alianora La Despenser: he and the young Alianora musttherefo
re have been playfellows up to five years of age, at least.Three pairs of slippers are bought for him, price 20 pence, (WardrobeAccounts, 20 Edward the Second, 31/18.) On July 27, 1325, Lawrence wascontracted to Alianora, daughter of Hugh Le Despenser the younger (_Rot.Pat._, 19 Edward the Second): which contract was illegally set aside byQueen Isabelle, who granted his custody and marriage in the King's nameto her son Prince Edward, December 1st, 1326 (_Rot. Pat._, 20 Edward theSecond). The marriage was re-granted, February 17, 1327, to Roger Earlof March. We next find the young Earl in the suite of Queen Philippa;and he received a robe from the Wardrobe in which to appear at herchurching in 1332, made of nine ells of striped saffron-coloured clothof Ghent, trimmed with fur, and a fur hood. In the following year, whenthe Queen joined her husband at Newcastle, she left Lawrence at York,desiring "_par tendresce de lui_" that the child should not take so longand wearying a journey. He was therefore sent to his mother theCountess Julian, "trusting her (says the King's mandate) to keep himbetter than any other, since he is near to her heart, being her son."She was to find all necessaries for him until further order, and theKing pledged himself to repay her in reason. (_Rot. Claus._, 7 Edwardthe Third, Part 1.) Lawrence was created Earl of Pembroke, October 13,1339; he _died_ in the first great visitation of the "Black Death,"August 30, 1348, and was _buried_ at Abergavenny. _Married_ Agnes deMortimer, [see next Article] _married_ 1327 (Walsingham); _died_ July25, 1368; _buried_ in Abbey of Minories. (She _remarried_ John deHakelut, and was first Lady in Waiting to Queen Philippa.)

  _Their children_:--1. Joan, _married_ Ralph de Greystoke, after October9, 1367.

  2. John, 2nd Earl of Pembroke, _born_ 1347, _died_ at Arras, France,April 16, 1375; _buried_ Grey Friars' Church, London. _Married_ (1.)Princess Margaret, daughter of Edward the Third; _born_ at Windsor, July20-21, 1346; _married_ in the Queen's Chapel [Reading?], 1359; _died_S.P. (after October 1st), 1361; _buried_ in Abingdon Abbey. (2.) Anne,daughter and heir of Sir Walter de Mauny and Margaret of Norfolk: _born_July 24, 1355; _married_ 1363; _died_ April 3, 1384.

  IV. THE MORTIMERS OF WIGMORE.

  Edmund De Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, son of Roger de Mortimer and Maudde Braose: _born_ March 25, 1266; _died_ at Wigmore Castle, July 17,1304; _buried_ in Wigmore Abbey. _Married_ Margaret, daughter of SirWilliam de Fienles: _married_ September 8, 1285; sided warmly with herson, and gathered various illegal assemblies at Worcester, where shelived, and at Radnor. On December 28, 1325, the King wrote, commandingher to retire to the Abbey of Elstow without delay, and there dwell ather own cost till further order: "and from the hour of your entering youshall not come forth, nor make any assembly of people without ourspecial leave." She was commanded to write and say whether she intendedto obey! The Abbess of Elstow was at the same time ordered to giveconvenient lodging to her in the Abbey, but not to suffer her to goforth nor make gatherings of persons. (Close Roll, 19 Edward theSecond.) Nothing further is known of her except that she was alive in1332, and was _dead_ on May 7, 1334, when the mandate was issued for her_Inq. Post Mortem_. The latter contains no date of death. Margaret was_buried_ at Wigmore. _Their children_:--1. Roger, _born_ April 25 orMay 3, 1287; created Earl of March, 1328; _hanged_ at Tyburn, November29, 1330: _buried_ in Friars' Minors Church, Coventry, whence leave wasgranted to his widow and son, in November, 1331, to transport the bodyto Wigmore Abbey. _Married_ Jeanne de Geneville, daughter and co-heirof Peter de Geneville (son of Geoffroi de Vaucouleur, brother of theSieur de Joinville, historian of Saint Louis) and Jeanne de Lusignan:_born_ February 2, 1286; _married_ before 1304. On hearing of herhusband's escape from the Tower in August 1323, she journeyed toSouthampton with her elder children, intending to rejoin him in France:but before she set sail, on April 6, 1324, the King directed the Sheriffof Southampton to capture her without delay, and deliver her to the careof John de Rithre, Constable of Skipton Castle. A damsel, squire,laundress, groom, and page, were allowed to her, and her expenses werereckoned at 13 shillings 4 pence per day while travelling, and afterreaching Skipton at 13 shillings 4 pence per week, with ten marks (6pounds, 13 shillings 4 pence) per annum for clothing. (Close Roll, 17Edward the Second.) These details appear afterwards to have beenslightly altered, since the account of the expenses mentions 37shillings 6 pence for the keep of two damsels, one laundress, onechamberlain, one cook, and one groom. Robes were supplied to her atEaster and Michaelmas. She remained a prisoner at Skipton from May 17,1324, on which day she seems to have come there, till August 3, 1326.(_Rot. de Liberate_, 19 Edward the Second, and 3 Edward the Third.) Bymandate of July 22, 1326, she was transferred to Pomfret (Close Roll, 20Edward the Second), which she reached in two days, the cost of thejourney being ten shillings 10 pence, (_Rot. Lib._, 3 Edward the Third.)When her husband was seized in October, 1330, the King sent down Johnde Melbourne to superintend the affairs of the Countess, with the ladiesand children in her company, dwelling at Ludlow Castle, with expressinstructions that their wardrobes, gods, and jewels, were not to betouched. (_Rot. Pat._ and _Claus._, 4 Edward the Third.) The lands ofher own inheritance were restored to her in the December and Januaryfollowing, with especial mention of Ludlow Castle, (_Rot. Claus.,ibidem_). Edward the Third always speaks of her with great respect. InAugust, 1347, there were suits against her in the Irish Courts (theMortimers held large estates in Ireland), and it is noted that she wasnot able to plead in person on account of her great age, which madetravelling perilous to her. (_Rot. Claus._, 21 Edward the Third.) Shewas then 63. On the 19th of October, 1356, she died (_Inq. PostMortem_, 30 Edward the Third 30)--the very day of her husband's capture,26 years before--and was _buried_ in the Church of the Friars Minors,Shrewsbury. (Cott. Ms. Cleop., C, 3.)

  2. Edmund, Rector of Hodnet.

  3. Hugh, Rector of Old Radnor.

  4. Walter, Rector of Kingston (Dugdale) Kingsland (Cott. Ms. Cleop. C,3).

  5. Maud, _married_ at Wigmore, July 28, 1302, Theobald de Verdon;_died_ at Alveton Castle, and _buried_ at Croxden, October 8, 1312.Left issue.

  6. Joan, _nun_ at Lyngbroke; living September 17, 1332.

  7. Elizabeth, _nun_ at Lyngbroke.

  8. John, _born_ 1300, _killed_ in tilting, at Worcester, January 3,1318, S.P.; _buried_ at Worcester.

  _Issue of Roger, first Earl of March, and Jeanne de Geneville_:--1.Edmund, _born_ 1304, _died_ at Stanton Lacy, December 28, 1331; _buried_at Wigmore. He is always reckoned as second Earl, but was neverformally restored to the title, for which he vainly petitioned, and therefusal is said to have broken his heart. He _married_ Elizabeth, thirddaughter, and eventually co-heir, of Bartholomew Lord Badlesmere, andMargaret de Clare: _born_ 1313, _married_ in or before 1327;(_remarried_ William de Bohun, Earl of Northampton;) _died_ June 17,1355.

  2. Roger, _died_ 1357. _Married_ Joan, daughter of Edmund de Boteler,Earl of Carrick, and Joan Fitzgerald; contract of _marriage_ February11, 1321.

  3. Geoffrey, Lord of Cowith. He was one of the King's Bannerets in1328 (_Rot. Magne Gard._, 33/10), was taken with his father and hisbrother Edmund in 1330, and was kept prisoner in the Tower till January25, 1331 (Issue Roll, _Michs._, 5 Edward the Third). On the followingMarch 16, he obtained leave to travel abroad. (_Rot. Pat._, 5 Edwardthe Third, Part 1.) He was living in 1337, but no more is known of him.

  4. John, _killed_ in tilting at Shrewsbury, and _buried_ there in theHospital of Saint John. He _married_ (and left one son).

  Alianora (family unknown), _buried_ with husband.

  5. Margaret, _married_ Thomas Lord Berkeley; _died_ May 5, 1337;_buried_ at Bristol.

  6. Joan, _married_ James Lord Audley of Heleigh.

  7. Isabel, _nun_ at Chicksand. These three girls accompanied theirmother to Southampton, and were captured with her. By the King's orderthey were sent to separate convents "to dwell with the nuns there;"there is no intimation that they were to be made nuns, and as two ofthem afterwards married, it is evident that this was not intended.Margaret was sent to Shuldham, her expenses being re
ckoned at 3shillings per day while travelling, and 15 pence per week after arrival;Joan to Sempringham, and Isabel to Chicksand, their expenses beingcharged 2 shillings each per day while travelling, and 12 pence each perweek in the convent. One mark per annum was allowed to each forclothing. (_Rot. Claus._, 17 Edward the Second.) Isabel chose toremain at or return to Chicksand, since she is mentioned as being a nunthere in February 1326. (Issue Roll, _Michs._, 19 Edward the Second.)

  8. Katherine, _married_ about 1338, Thomas de Beauchamp, Earl ofWarwick; _died_ August 4, 1369.

  9. Maud, _married_ about 1320 John Lord Charleton of Powys; living July5, 1348.

  10. Agnes, _married_ (1) 1327, Lawrence de Hastings, Earl of Pembroke;(2) before June 21, 1353, John de Hakelut; _died_ July 25, 1368;_buried_ in Abbey of Minories.

  II. Beatrice, _married_ (1) about 1327, Edward son of Prince Thomas deBrotherton, Earl of Norfolk; (2) 1334 (?) Thomas de Braose (_Rot.Claus._ 8 E. three.) (who appears to have purchased her for 12,000marks--8000 pounds): _died_ October 16, 1383 (_Inq. Post Mortem_, 7Richard the Second, 15).

  12. Blanche, _married_, before March 27, 1334, Peter, third Lord deGrandison; _dead_ July 24, 1357. Either she or her husband was _buried_at Marcle, Herefordshire.

  V. CHRONOLOGICAL ERRATA.

  The accounts given by the early chroniclers, and followed by modernhistorians, with respect to the movements of Edward the Second and hisQueen, from September, 1326, to the December following, are sadly atvariance with fact. The dates of death of the Despensers, as well asvarious minor matters, depend on the accurate fixing of these points.

  The popular account, generally accepted, states that the Queen landed atOrwell in September--the exact day being disputed--that the King, onhearing of it, hastened to the West, and shut himself up in BristolCastle, with his daughters and the younger Despenser; that the Queenhanged the elder Despenser and the Earl of Arundel before their eyes, onthe 8th of October, whereupon the King and the younger Despenser escapedby night in a boat: some add that they were overtaken and brought back,others that they landed in Wales, and were taken in a wood nearLlantrissan. Much of this is pure romance. The King's Household Roll,which names his locality for every day, and is extant up to October19th, the Wardrobe Accounts supplying the subsequent facts, distinctlyshows that he never came nearer Bristol on that occasion than the roadfrom Gloucester to Chepstow; that on the 8th of October he was yet atCirencester; that he left Gloucester on the 10th, reaching Chepstow onthe 16th, whence he departed on the 20th "_versus aquam de Weye_" andtherefore in the contrary direction from Bristol. On the 27th and 28thhe dates mandates from Cardiff; on the 29th and 30th from Caerphilly.On November 2nd he left Caerphilly (this we are distinctly told in theWardrobe Accounts), on the 3rd and 4th he was at Margan Abbey, and onthe 5th he reached Neath, where he remained up to the 10th. He nowappears to have paid a short visit to Swansea, whence he returned toNeath, where, on the 16th, his cousin Lancaster and his party found him,and took him into their custody, with Hugh Le Despenser and ArchdeaconBaldok. They took him first to Monmouth, where he was found by theBishop of Hereford (sent to demand the Great Seal), probably about the23rd. Thence he was conveyed to Ledbury, which he reached on or aboutthe 30th; and on the 6th of December he was at Kenilworth, where heremained for the rest of his reign.

  The Queen landed at Orwell in September: Speed says, on the 19th; Robertof Avesbury, the 26th; most authorities incline to the 22nd, which seemsas probable a date as any. The King, at any rate, had heard of herarrival on the 28th, and issued a proclamation offering to allvolunteers 1 shilling per day for a man-at-arms, and 2 pence for anarcher, to resist the invading force. All past offenders were offeredpardon if they joined his standard, the murderers of Sir Roger de Belersalone excepted: and Roger Mortimer, with the King's other enemies, wasto be arrested and destroyed. Only three exceptions were made: theQueen, her son (his father omits the usual formula of "our dearest andfirstborn son," and even the title of Earl of Chester), and the Earl ofKent, "queux nous volons que soent sauuez si auant come home poet."According to Froissart, the Queen's company could not make the port theyintended, and landed on the sands, whence after four days they marched(ignorant of their whereabouts) till they sighted Bury Saint Edmunds,where they remained three days. Miss Strickland tells a rather strikingtale of the tempestuous night passed by the Queen under a shed ofdriftwood run up hastily by her knights, whence she marched the nextmorning at daybreak. (This lady rarely gives an authority, and stillmore seldom an exact reference.) On the 25th, she adds, the Queenreached Harwich. Robert de Avesbury, Polydore Vergil, and Speed, saythat she landed at Orwell, which the Chronicle of Flanders callsNorwell. If Froissart is to be credited, this certainly was not theplace; for he says that the tempest prevented the Queen from landing atthe port where she intended, and that this was a mercy of Providence,because there her enemies awaited her. The port where her enemiesawaited her (meaning thereby the husband whom she was persecuting) wascertainly Orwell, for on the second of September the King had orderedall ships of thirty tuns weight to assemble there. Moreover, the Queencould not possibly march from Orwell at once to Bury and Harwich, sinceto face the one she must have turned her back on the other. Theprobability seems to be that she came ashore somewhere in Orwell Haven,but whether she first visited Harwich or Bury it is difficult to judge.The natural supposition would be that she remained quiet for a time atBury until she was satisfied that her allies would be sufficient toeffect her object, and then showed herself openly at Harwich were it notthat Bury is so distant, and Harwich is so near, that the suppositionseems to be negatived by the facts. From Harwich or Bury, whichever itwere, she marched towards London, which according to some writers, shereached; but the other account seems to be better authenticated, whichstates that on hearing that the King had left the capital for the Westshe altered her course for Oxford. She certainly was not in London whenthe Tower was captured by the citizens, October 16th (_CompotusWillielmi de Culpho_, Wardrobe Accounts, 20 Edward the Second, 31/8),since she dates a mandate from Wallingford on the 15th, unless BishopOrleton falsified the date in quoting it in his Apology. Thence shemarched to Cirencester and Gloucester, and at last to Bristol, which sheentered on or before the 25th. Since Gloucester was considerably out ofher way--for we are assured that her aim was to make a straight andrapid course to Bristol--why did she go there at all if the King were atBristol? But we know he was not; he had then set sail for Wales. Herobject in going to Bristol was probably twofold: to capture Le Despenserand Arundel, and to stop the King's supplies, for Bristol was hiscommissariat-centre. A cartload of provisions reached that city fromLondon for him on the 14th [Note 2.] (_Rot. Magne Gard._, 20 Edward theSecond, 26/3), and his butler, John Pyrie, went thither for wine, evenso late as November 1st (_Ibidem_, 26/4). Is it possible that Pyrie,perhaps unconsciously, betrayed to some adherent of the Queen the factthat his master was in Wales? The informer, we are told by thechroniclers, was Sir Thomas le Blount, the King's Seneschal of theHousehold. But that suspicious embassage of the Abbot of Neath andseveral of the King's co-refugees, noted on November 10th in termswhich, though ostensibly spoken by the King and dated from Neath, areunmistakably the Queen's diction and not his, cannot be left out of theaccount in estimating his betrayers. From October 26, when theillegally-assembled Parliament, in the hall of Bristol Castle, wentthrough the farce of electing the young Prince to the regency "becausethe King was absent from his kingdom," and October 27th, which is given(probably with truth) by Harl. Ms. 6124 as the day of the judicialmurder of Hugh Le Despenser the Elder, our information concerning theQueen's movements is absolutely _nil_ until we find her at Hereford onthe 20th of November. She then sent Bishop Orleton of Hereford to theKing to request the Great Seal, and he, returning, found her at Marcleon the 26th. It was probably on the 24th that the younger Despensersuffered. On the 27th the Queen was at Newent, on the 28th atGloucester, on the 29th at Coberley, and on the 30th at Cirencester.She reached Lechlade on Decem
ber 1st, Witney on the 2nd, Woodstock onthe 3rd. Here she remained till the 22nd, when she went to Osney Abbey,and forward to Wallingford the next day. (Wardrobe Accounts, 20 Edwardthe Second and 1 Edward the Third, 26/11.) She was joined atWallingford by her younger son Prince John of Eltham, who had beenawaiting her arrival since the 17th, and losing 3 shillings at play byway of amusement in the interim (_Ibidem_, 31/18). By Reading, Windsor,Chertsey, and Allerton she reached Westminster on the 4th of January(_Ibidem_, 26/11).

  I have examined all the Wardrobe Accounts and Rolls likely to cast lighton this period, but I can find no mention of the whereabouts of the twoPrincesses during this time. Froissart says that they and Prince Johnwere delivered into the Queen's care by the citizens of Bristol; whichis certainly a mistake so far as concerns the Prince, whose compotusjust quoted distinctly states that he left the Tower on October 16th(which fixes the day of its capture), quitted London on December 21st,and reached Wallingford on the 24th. He, therefore, was no more atBristol than his father, and only rejoined his mother as she returnedthence. The position of the royal sisters remains doubtful, as evenMrs Everett Green--usually a most faithful and accurate writer--hasaccepted Froissart's narrative, and apparently did not discover itscomplete discrepancy with the Wardrobe Accounts. If the Princesses werethe companions of their royal father in his flight, and were deliveredto their mother when she entered Bristol--which may be the fact--theprobability is that he sent them there when he left Gloucester, on orabout the 10th of October.

  VI. THE ORDER OF SEMPRINGHAM.

  The Gilbertine Order, also called the Order of Sempringham, was that ofthe reformed Cistercians. Its founder was Gilbert, son of Sir Joscelinede Sempringham; he was Rector of Saint Andrew's Church in that village,and died in 1189. The chief peculiarity of this Order was that monksand nuns dwelt under the same roof, but their apartments were entered byseparate doors from without, and had no communication from within. Theyattended the Priory Church together, but never mixed among each otherexcept on the administration of the Sacrament. The monks followed therule of Saint Austin; the nuns the Cistercian rule, with SaintBenedict's emendations, to which some special statutes were added by thefounder. The habit was, for monks, a black cassock, white cloak, andhood lined with lambskin; for nuns, a white habit, black mantle, andblack hood lined with white fur. There was a Master over the entireOrder, who lived at Sempringham, the mother Abbey also a Prior and aPrioress over each community. The Prior of Sempringham was a Baron ofParliament. The site of the Abbey, three miles south-east fromFolkingham, Lincolnshire, may still be traced by its moated area. TheAbbey Church of Saint Andrew alone now remains entire; it is Norman,with an Early English tower, and a fine Norman north door.

  But few houses of the Gilbertine Order existed in England, and thosewere mainly in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. The principal ones--afterSempringham, which was the chief--were Chicksand, Bedfordshire;Cambridge; Fordham, near Newmarket; Hitchin, Hertfordshire; Lincoln,Alvingham, Bolington, Cateley, Haverholme, Ormesby, Newstead (not theAbbey, which was Augustinian), Cotton, Sexley, Stikeswold, Sixhill,Lincolnshire; Marmound and Shuldham, Norfolk; Clattercott, Oxfordshire;Marlborough, Wiltshire; Malton, Sempringham Minor, Watton, andWilberfosse, Yorkshire.

  The Gilbertine Order "for some centuries maintained its sanctity andcredit; afterwards it departed greatly from both."

  VII. FICTITIOUS PERSONS.

  In Part One, these are Cicely's daughters, Alice and Vivien, and herdamsels, Margaret and Fina; Meliora, the Queen's sub-damsel; Hilda laVileyne, and her relatives. Of all others, the name and position atleast are historical facts.

  The fictitious persons in Part Two are more numerous, being all thehousehold of the Countess of March (except John Inge the Castellan): andNichola, damsel of the Countess Agnes.

  The three Despenser nuns, Mother Alianora, and the Sisters Annora andMargaret, and Lady Joan de Greystoke, are the only characters in PartThree which are not fictitious.

  A difference in the diction will be noticed between Part Three and theearlier parts, the last portion being more modern than the rest. SisterAlianora must not be supposed to write her narrative, which she couldnot do except by order from her superiors; but rather to be uttering herreflections to herself. Since to her the natural language would beFrench, there was no need to follow the contemporary diction furtherthan, by a quaint expression now and then, to remind the reader of theperiod in which the scene is laid.

  It may be remarked that the diction of Parts One and Two is not strictlycorrect. This is true: because to make it perfectly accurate, would beto make it also unintelligible to nine out of ten readers, and this notso much on account of obsolete words, which might be explained in anote, as of the entirely different turn of the phraseology. Animaginary diary of the reign of Elizabeth can be written in pureElizabethan language, and with an occasional explanatory note, it willbe understood by modern readers: but a narrative prior to 1400 at theearliest cannot be so treated. The remaining possibilities are eitherto use as much of the correct diction of the period as is intelligible,employing modern terms where it is not, or else to write in ordinarymodern English. Tastes no doubt differ on this point. I prefer theformer; since I extremely dislike to read a mediaeval story where modernexpressions alone are used in the dialogue. The reader, if himselfacquainted with the true language, finds it impossible to realise orenter into the story, being constantly reminded that he is reading amodern fiction. What I object to read, therefore, I object to write forthe reading of others. Where circumstances, as in this case, makeperfect accuracy impossible, it seems to me the next best thing is tocome as near it as they will permit.

  The biographical details given in this Appendix, with few exceptions,have not, I believe, been previously published. For such information asmay readily be found in Dugdale's Baronage, extinct peerages, etcetera,I refer my readers to those works.

  The End.

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  Note 1. This document is mistakenly headed and catalogued as a Compotusof Leonor, Queen of Edward the First. It certainly belongs to QueenPhilippa. The internal evidence is abundant and conclusive--_eg_, "theCountess of Hainault, the Queen's mother."

  Note 2. The details of this cartload are not uninteresting:--203quarters, 12 pounds wax; 774 pounds broken sugar, 11 pence per pound;200 almonds; 100 pounds of rice; 78 ells of Paris napery, 10 pence perell; 6 and a half ells of Rouen napery, same price; 18 short towels; 15and a half ells of "cloth of Still;" 100 ells of linen, 100 ells ofcanvas; 200 pears, at 4 shillins per 100, bought of Isabel Fruiterer;2000 large nuts, at 1 shilling per 1000; four baskets for the fruit, 10pence. The journey from London occupied five days, and the travellingexpenses were 14 pence per day.

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