Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century
after,starting up, I cried, "What should be that noise?"
"I do hear nothing," she answered, trembling as a leaf.
"Hush," I replied, and going to the window, opened the lattice. Thesound in the road on the other side of the house was now plain. Onthat we looked on naught was to be seen save trees and grass, with theghastly moonlight shining on them. A loud opening and shutting ofdoors and much stir now took place within the house, and, moved by thesame impulse, we both went out into the passage and half way down thestairs. Milicent was first. Suddenly she turned round, and fallingdown on her knees, with a stifled exclamation, she hid her faceagainst me, whisperings "He is taken!"
We seemed both turned to stone. O ye which have gone through a liketrial, judge ye; and you who have never been in such straits, imaginewhat a daughter should feel who, after long years' absence, beholdetha beloved father for one instant, and in the next, under the same roofwhere she is a guest, sees him brought in a prisoner and in jeopardyof his life. Every word which was uttered we could hear where we satcrouching, fearful to advance--she not daring to look on the man shehad ruined, and I on the countenance of a dear parent, lest the sightof me should distract him from his defence, if that could be calledsuch which he was called on to make. They asked him touching his name,if it was Tunstall. He answered he was known by that name. Thenfollowed the murtherous question, if he was a Romish priest? To whichhe at once assented. Then said Sir Hammond:
"How did you presume, sir, to return into England contrary to thelaws?"
"Sir," he answered, "as I was lawfully ordained a priest by a Catholicbishop, by authority derived from the see of Rome" (one person hereexclaimed, "Oh, audacious papist! his tongue should be cat out;"but Sir Hammond imposed silence), "so likewise," he continued, "am Ilawfully sent to preach the word of God, and to administer thesacraments to my Catholic countrymen. As the mission of priestslawfully ordained is from Christ, who did send his apostles even ashis Father sent him, I do humbly conceive no human laws can justlyhinder my return to England, or make it criminal; for this should beto prefer the ordinances of man to the commands of the supremelegislator, which is Christ himself."
Loud murmurs were here raised by some present, which Sir Hammond againsilencing, he then inquired if he would take the oath of allegiance tothe queen? He answered (my straining ears taking note of every word heuttered) that he would gladly pay most willing obedience to hermajesty in all civil matters; but the oath of allegiance, as it wasworded, he could not take, or hold her majesty to possess anysupremacy in spiritual matters. He was beginning to state the reasonsthereof, but was not suffered to proceed, for Sir Hammond,interrupting him, said he was an escaped prisoner, and by his ownconfession condemned, so he should straightway commit him to the gaolin Norwich. Then I lost my senses almost, and seizing Ladyl'Estrange's arm, I cried, "Save him! he is mine own father, Mr.Sherwood!" She uttered a sort of cry, and said, "Oh, I have fearedthis, since I saw his face!" and running forward, I following her,affrighted at what should happen, she called out, "It shall not be! Heshall not do it!" and with a face as white as any smock, runs to herhusband, and perceiving the constables to be putting chains on myfather's hands and feet, which I likewise beheld with what feelingsyou who read this may think, she falls on her knees and gasps outthese words in such a mournful tone, that I shuddered to hear her,"Oh, sir! if this man leaves this house a chained prisoner, I shallnever be the like of my-self again. There shall be no more joy for mein life." And then faints right away, and Sir Hammond carries her inhis arms out of the hall. Mine eyes the while met my father's; whosmiled on me with kind cheer, but signed for me to keep away. Istretched my arms toward him, and with his chained hand he contrivedyet once more for to bless me; then was hurried out of my sight. Farmore time than I ever did perceive or could remember the length of Iremained in that now deserted hall, motionless, alone, near to thedying embers, the darkness still increasing, too much confused torecall at once the comforts which sacred thoughts do yield in suchmishaps, only able to clasp my hand and utter broken sentences ofprayer, such as "God, ha' mercy on us," and the like; till about themiddle of the night, Sir Hammond comes down the stairs, with a lamp inhis hand, and a strange look in his face.
"Mistress Sherwood," he says, "come to my lady. She is very ill, andhath been in labor for some time. She doth nothing but call for you,and rave about that accursed priest she will have it she hathmurthered. Come and feign to her he hath escaped."
"O God!" I cried, "my words may fall on her ear, Sir Hammond, but myface cannot deceive her."
He looked at me amazed and angry. "What meaneth this passion of grief?What is this old man to you, that his misfortune should thus disorderyou?" And as I could not stay my weeping, he asked in a scornfulmanner, "Do papists so dote on their priests as to die of sorrow whenthey get their deserts?" This insulting speech did so goad me, that,unable to restrain myself, I exclaimed, "Sir Hammond, he whom you havesent to a dungeon, and perhaps to death also (God pardon you for it!),is my true father!--the best parent and the noblest gentleman thatever breathed, which for many years I had not seen; and here underyour roof, myself your guest, I have beheld him loaded withchains, and dared not to speak for fear to injure him yet further,which I pray God I have not now done, moved thereunto by your cruelscoffs."
"Your father!" he said amazed; "Mr. Sherwood! These cursed feigningsdo work strange mishaps. But he did own himself a priest."
Before I had time to answer, a serving woman ran into the hall, cryingout, "Oh, sir, I pray you come to my lady. She is much worse; and thenurse says, if her mind is not eased she is like to die before thechild is born."
"Oh, Milicent! sweet Milicent!" I cried, wringing my hands; and when Ilooked at that unhappy husband's face, anger vanished and pity tookits place. He turned to me with an imploring countenance as if heshould wish to say, "None but you can save her." I prayed to Our Lady,who stood and fainted not beneath the Rood, to get me strength for todo my part in that sick chamber whither I signed to him to lead theway. "God will help me," I whispered in his ear, "to comfort her."
"God bless you!" he answered in a hoarse voice, and opened the door ofthe room in which his sweet lady was sitting in her bed, with a wildlook in her pale blue eyes, which seemed to start out of her head.
"Sir," I heard her say, as he approached, "what hath befallen the poorman you would not dismiss?"
I took a light in my hand, so that she should see my face, and smiledon her with such good cheer, as God in his mercy gave me strength todo even amidst the two-fold anguish of that moment. Then she threw herarms convulsively round my neck, and her pale lips gasped the samequestion as before. I bent over her, and said, "Trouble yourself nolonger, dear lady, touching this prisoner. He is safe (in God'skeeping, I added, internally). He is where he is carefully tended (byGod's angels, I mentally subjoined); he hath no occasion to be afraid(for God is his strength), and I warrant you is as peaceful as hisnearest friends should wish him to be."
"Is this the truth?" she murmured in my ear.
"Yea," I said, "the truth, the very truth," and kissed her flushedcheek. Then feeing like to faint, I went away, Sir Hammond leading meto my chamber, for I could scarce stand.
"God bless you!" he again said, when he left me, and I think he wasweeping.
I fell into a heavy, albeit troubled, sleep, and when I awoke it wasbroad daylight. When the waiting-maid came in, she told me Ladyl'Estrange had been delivered of a dead child and Sir Hammond wasalmost beside himself with grief. My lady's mind had wandered eversince; but she was more tranquil than in the night. Soon after he sentto ask if he could see me, and I went down to him into the parlor. Amore changed man, in a few hours, I ween, could not be seen, than thispoor gentleman. He spoke not of his lady; but briefly told me he hadsent in the night a messenger on horseback to Norwich, with a letterto the governor of the gaol, praying him to show as muchconsideration, and allow so much liberty as should consist withprudence, to the prisoner in his custody, sent by him a few hoursbefore, fo
r that he had discovered him not to be one of the commonsort, nor a lewd person, albeit by his own confession amenable to thelaws, and escaped from another prison. Then he added, that if I wishedto go to Norwich, and visit this prisoner, he would give me a letterto the governor, and one to a lady, who would conveniently harbor mefor a while in that city, and his coach should take me there, or hewould lend me a horse and a servant to attend me. I answered, I shouldbe glad to go, and then said somewhat of his lady, hoping she shouldnow do well. He made no reply for a moment, and then only said,
"God knoweth! she is not like herself at the present."
The words she had so mournfully spoken the day before came intomy mind, "I shall never be like myself again, and there shall be nomore joy in this house." And, methinks, they did haunt him also.
I sat for some time by her bedside that day. She seemed not ill atease, but there was something changed in her aspect, and her wordswhen she spoke had no sense or connection. And here I will set down,before I relate the events which followed my brief sojourn under theirroof, what I have heard touching the sequel of Sir Hammond and hiswife's lives.
In that perilous and sorely troubled childbirth understanding wasalienated, and the art of the best physicians in England could neverrestore it. She was not frantic; but had such a pretty deliration,that in her ravings there was oftentimes more attractiveness than inmany sane persons' conversation. They mostly ran on pious themes, andshe was wont to sing psalms, and talk of heaven, and that she hoped tosee God there; and in many things she showed her old ability, such asfine embroidery and the making of preserves. One day her waiting-womanasked her to dress a person's wounds, which did greatly need it, andshe set herself to do it in her accustomed manner; but at the sight ofthe wounds, she was seized with convulsions, and became violentlydelirious, so that Sir Hammond sharply reprehended the imprudentattendant, and forbade the like to be ever proposed to her again. Hegave himself up to live retired with her, and ceased to be amagistrate, nor ever, that I could hear of, took any part again in thepersecution of Catholics. The distemper which had estranged her mindin all things else, had left her love and obedience entire to herhusband; and he entertained a more visible fondness, and evinced agreater respect for her after she was distempered than he had everdone in the early days of their marriage. Methinks, the gentleness ofher heart, and delicacy of her conscience, which till that misfortunehad never, I ween, been burdened by any, even the least,self-reproach, and the lack of strength in her mind to endure anunusual stress, made the stroke of that accidental harm done toanother through her means too heavy for her sufferance, and, as thepoet saith, unsettled reason on her throne. For mine own part, but letothers consider of it as they list, I think that had she been aCatholic by early training and distinct belief, as verily I hope shewas in rightful intention, albeit unconsciously to herself (as I makeno doubt many are in these days, wherein persons are growing up withno knowledge of religion except what Protestant parents do instillinto them), that she would have had a greater courage for to bear thissingular trial; which to a feeling natural heart did prove unbearable,but which to one accustomed to look on suffering as not the greatestof evils, and to hold such as are borne for conscience sake as greatand glorious, would not have been so overwhelming. But herein I write,methinks, mine own condemnation, for that in the anguish of filialgrief I failed to point out to her during those cruel moments ofsuspense that which in retrospection I do so clearly see. And so, mayGod accept the blighting of her young life, and the many sufferings ofmine which I have still to record, as pawns of his intended mercies toboth her and to me in his everlasting kingdom!
When I was about to set out for Norwich, late in the afternoon of thatsame day, Sir Hammond's messenger returned from thence with a letterfrom the governor of the gaol; wherein he wrote that the prisoner hehad sent the night before was to proceed to London in a few hours withsome other priests and recusants which the government had ordered tobe conveyed thither and committed to divers prisons. He added, that hehad complied with Sir Hammond's request, and shown so much favor toMr. Tunstall as to transfer him, as soon as he received hisletter, from the common dungeon to a private cell, and to allow him tospeak with another Catholic prisoner who had desired to see him. Uponthis I prayed Sir Hammond to forward me on my journey to London, asnow I desired nothing so much as to go there forthwith; which he didwith no small alacrity and good disposition. Then, with so much speedas was possible, and so much suffering from the lapse of each hourthat it seemed to me the journey should never end, I proceeded to whatwas now the object of my most impatient pinings--the place where Ishould bear tidings of my father, and, if it should be possible,minister assistance to him in his great straits. At last I reachedHolborn; and, to the no small amazement of my uncle, Mrs. Ward, andMuriel, revealed to them who Mr. Tunstall was, whose arrival at theprison of Bridewell Mrs. Ward had had notice of that morning, when shehad been to visit Mr. Watson, which she had contrived to do for sometime past in the manner I will soon relate.
CHAPTER XVI.
One of the first persons I saw in London was Hubert Rookwood, who,when he heard (for being Basil's brother I would not conceal it fromhim) that my father was in prison at Bridewell, expressed so muchconcern therein and resentment of my grief, that I was thereby movedto more kindly feelings toward him than I had of late entertained. Hesaid that in the houses of the law which he frequented he had madefriends which he hoped would intercede in his behalf, and thereinobtain, if not his release, yet so much alleviation of the hardshipsof a common prison as should render his condition more tolerable, andthat he would lose no time in seeking to move them thereunto; but thatour chief hope would lie in Sir Francis Walsingham, who, albeit muchopposed to papists, had always showed himself willing to assist hisfriends of that way of thinking, and often procured for them somerelief, which indeed none had more experienced than Mr. Congletonhimself. Hubert commended the secrecy which had been observed touchingmy father's real name; for if he should be publicly known to bepossessed of lands and related to noble families, it should be harderfor any one to get him released than an obscure person; butnevertheless he craved license to intimate so much of the truth to SirFrancis as should appear convenient, for he had always observed thatgentlemen are more compassionate to those of their own rank than toothers of meaner birth. Mr. Congleton prayed him to use his owndiscretion therein, and said he should acquaint no one himself of itexcept his very good friend the Portuguese ambassador, who, if allother resources failed, might yet obtain of the queen herself somemitigation of his sentence. Thereupon followed some days of wearywatching and waiting, in which my only comfort was Mistress Ward, who,by means of the gaoler's wife, who had obliged her in the like mannerbefore, did get access from time to time to Mr. Watson, and broughthim necessaries. From him she discovered that the prisoner in thenearest cell to his own was the so-called Mr. Tunstall, and that byknocks against the wall, ingeniously numbered so as to express theletters of the alphabet, as one for _a_, two for _b_, and so to theend thereof, they did communicate. So she straightway began topractice this management; but time allowed not of many speeches topass between them. Yet in this way he sent me his blessing, and thathe was of very good cheer; but that none should try for to visit him,for he had only one fear, which was to bring others into trouble; and,for himself, he was much beholden to her majesty, which had providedhim with a quiet lodging and time to look to his soul's welfare;which evidence of his cheerful and pious spirit comforted me not alittle. Then that dear friend which had brought me this good comfortspoke of Mr. Watson, and said she desired to procure his escape fromprison more than that of any other person in the same plight, notexcepting my father. "For, good Constance," quoth she, "when a man isblest with a stout heart and cheerful mind, except it be for the sakeof others, I pray you what kind of service do you think we render himby delaying the victory he is about to gain, and peradventuredepriving him of the long-desired crown of martyrdom? But this goodMr. Watson, who as you well know was a zealous pr
iest and piousmissioner, nevertheless, some time after his apprehension andconfinement in Bridewell, by force of torments and other miseries ofthat place, was prevailed upon to deny his faith so far as to go onceto the Protestant service--not dragged there by force as some havebeen, but compelled thereunto by fear of intolerable sufferings, andwas then set at liberty. But the poor man did not thus better hiscondition; for the torments of his mind, looking on himself as anapostate and traitor to the Church, he found to be more insupportablethan any sufferings his gaolers put upon him. So, after some miserableweeks, he went to one of the prisons where some other priests wereconfined for to seek comfort and counsel from them; and, havingconfessed his fault with great and sincere sorrow, he receivedabsolution, and straightway repaired to that church in Bridewellwherein he had in a manner denied his faith, and before all the peopleat that time therein assembled, declared himself a Catholic, andwilling to go to prison and to death sooner than to join again inProtestant worship. Whereupon he was laid hold of, dragged to prison,and thrown into a dungeon so low and so straight that he could neitherstand up in it nor lay himself down at his full length to sleep. Theyloaded him with irons, and kept him one whole month on bread andwater; nor would suffer any one to come near him to comfort or speakwith him."
"Alas!" I cried, "and is this, then, the place where my father isconfined?'
"No,", she answered; "after the space of a month Mr. Watson wastranslated to a lodging