Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century

the name of which hath blenched the cheeks and riventhe hearts of Catholics, one who hath caused many amongst them to losetheir lands and to part from their homes, to die on gibbets and theirlimbs to be torn asunder--one Richard Topcliffe. But, methinks, of allthe voices which shall be raised for to accuse him at Christ'sjudgment-seat, the loudest will be Frances Bellamy's. Her ruin was hiswork; one of those works which, when a man is dead, do follow him;whither, God knoweth!

  Oh, you who saw her, as I did, in her young and innocent years, canyou read this without shuddering? Can you think on it without weeping?As her fall was sudden, so was the change it wrought. With it vanishedaffections, hopes, womanly feelings, memory of the past; nay, methinkstherein I err. Memory did yet abide, but linked with hatred; Satan'smemory of heaven. From depths to depths she hath sunk, and is nowwedded to a mean wretch, the gaoler of her old prison. So rank ahatred hath grown in her against recusants and mostly priests, that itrages like a madness in her soul, which thirsts for their blood. Somemonths back, about the time I did begin to write this history, newsreached me that she had sold the life of that meek saint, that sweetpoet, Father Southwell, of which even an enemy, Lord Mountjoy, didsay, when he had seen him suffer, "I pray God, where that man's soulnow is, mine may one day be." Her father had concealed him in thathouse where she had dwelt in her innocent days. None but the familyknew the secret of its hiding-place.She did reveal it, and took gold for her wages! What shall be thatwoman's death-bed? What trace doth remain on her soul of what was oncea share in the divine nature? May one of God's ministers be nigh untoher in that hour for to bid her not despair! If Judas had repented,Jesus would have pardoned him. Peradventure, misery without hope ofrelief overthrew her brain. I do pray for her always. 'Tis a vainthought perhaps, but I sometimes wish I might, though I see not how tocompass it, yet once speak with her before she or I die. Methinks Icould say such words as should touch some old chord in her dead heart.God knoweth! That day I write of, little did I ween what her end wouldbe. But yet it feared me to hear one so young and of so frail anaspect speak so boastfully; and it seemed even then to myinexperienced mind, that my Lady Surrey, who had so humbly erewhileaccused herself of cowardice and lamented her weakness, should be in asafer plight, albeit as yet unreconciled.

  The visit I have described had lasted some time, when a servant camewith a message to her ladyship from Mr. Hubert Rookwood, who craved tobe admitted on an urgent matter. She glanced at me somewhat surprised,upon which I made her a sign that she should condescend to hisrequest; for I supposed he had seen Sir Francis Walsingham, and was inhaste to confer with me touching that interview; and she ordered himto be admitted. Mrs. Bellamy and her daughter rose to go soon afterhis entrance; and whilst Lady Surrey conducted them to the door heasked me if her ladyship was privy to the matter in hand. When I hadsatisfied him thereof, he related what had passed in an interview hehad with Sir Francis, whom he found ill-disposed at first to stir inthe matter, for he said his frequent remonstrances in favor ofrecusants had been like to bring him into odium with some of the morezealous Protestants, and that he must needs, in every case of thatsort, prove it to be his sole object to bring such persons moresurely, albeit slowly, by means of toleration, to a rightfulconformity; and that with regard to priests he was very loth tointerfere.

  "I was compelled," quoth Hubert, "to use such arguments as fell inwith the scope of his discourse, and to flatter him with the hope ofgood results in that which he most desired, if he would procure Mr.Sherwood's release, which I doubt not he hath power to effect. And inthe end he consented to lend his aid therein, on condition he shouldprove on his side so far conformable as to suffer a minister to visitand confer with him touching religion, which would then be a pretextfor his release, as if it were supposed he was well disposed towardProtestant religion, and a man more like to embrace the truth when atliberty than if driven to it by stress of confinement. Then he wouldprocure," he added, "an order for his passage to France, if hepromised not to return, except he should be willing to obey the laws."

  "I fear me much," I answered, "my father will not accept these termswhich Sir Francis doth offer. Methinks he will consider they doinvolve some lack of the open profession of his faith."

  "It would be madness for one in his plight to refuse them," Hubertexclaimed, and appealed thereon to Lady Surrey, who said she didindeed think as he did, for it was not like any better could beobtained.

  It pained me he should refer to her, who from conformity to the timescould not well conceive how tender a Catholic conscience should feelat the least approach to dissembling on this point.

  "Wherein," he continued, "is the harm for to confer with a minister,or how can it be construed into a denial of a man's faith to listen tohis arguments, unless, indeed, he feels himself to be in danger ofbeing shaken by them?"

  "You very well know," I exclaimed with some warmth, "that not tobe my meaning, or what I suppose his should be. Our priests doconstantly crave for public disputations touching religion, albeitthey eschew secret ones, which their adversaries make a pretext of tospread reports of their inability to defend their faith, orwillingness to abandon it. But heaven forbid I should anyways prejudgethis question; and if with a safe conscience--and with no other I amassured will he do it--my father doth subscribe to this condition,then God be praised for it!"

  "But you will move him to it, Mistress Constance?" he said.

  "If I am so happy," I answered, "as to get speech with him, verily Iwill entreat him not to throw away his life, so precious to others, ifso be he can save it without detriment to his conscience."

  "Conscience!" Hubert exclaimed, "methinks that word is oftenmisapplied in these days."

  "How so?" I asked, investigating his countenance, for I misdoubted hismeaning. Lady Surrey likewise seemed desirous to hear what he shouldsay on that matter.

  "Conscience," he answered, "should make persons, and mostly women,careful how they injure others, and cause heedless suffering, by a toogreat stiffness in refusing conformity to the outward practices whichthe laws of the country enforce, when it affects not the weightierpoints of faith, which God forbid any Catholic should deny. There isoften as much of pride as of virtue in such rash obstinacy touchingsmall yieldings as doth involve the ruin of a family, separation ofparents and children, and more evils than can be thought of."

  "Hubert," I said, fixing mine eyes on him with a searching look hecared not, I ween, to meet, for he cast his on a paper he had in hishand, and raised them not while I spoke, "'sit is by such reasoningsfirst, and then by such small yieldings as you commend, that some havebeen led two or three times in their lives, yea, oftener perhaps, toprofess different religions, and to take such contradictory oaths ashave been by turns prescribed to them under different sovereigns, andGod each time called on to witness their perjuries, whereby truth andfalsehood in matters of faith shall come in time to be words withoutany meaning."

  Then he: "You do misapprehend me, Mistress Constance, if you think Iwould counsel a man to utter a falsehood, or feign to believe thatwhich in his heart he thinketh to be false. But, in heaven's name, Ipray you, what harm will your father do if he listens to a minister'sdiscourse, and suffers it to be set forth he doth ponder thereon, andin the meantime escapes to France? whereas, if he refuses the loopholenow offered to him, he causeth not to himself alone, but to you andhis other friends, more pain and sorrow than can be thought of, anddeprives the Church of one of her servants, when her need of them isgreatest."

  I made no reply to this last speech; for albeit I thought my fatherwould not accede to these terms, I did not so far trust mine ownjudgment thereon as to predict with certainty what his answer shouldbe. And then Hubert said he had an order from Sir Francis that wouldadmit me on the morrow to see my father; and he offered to go with me,and Mistress Ward too, if I listed, to present it, albeit I aloneshould enter his cell. I thanked him, and fixed the time of our going.

  When he had left us, Lady Surrey commended his zeal, and also hismoderate spirit, which di
d charitably allow, she said, for such asconformed to the times for the sake of others which theirreconcilement would very much injure.

  Before I could reply she changed this discourse, and, putting herhands on my shoulders and kissing my forehead, said,

  "My Lady Lumley hath heard so much from her poor niece of oneMistress Constance Sherwood, that she doth greatly wish to see thisyoung gentlewoman and very resolved papist." And then taking me by thearm she led me to that lady's chamber, where I had as kind a welcomeas ever I received from any one from her ladyship, who said "her dearNan's friends should be always as dear to her as her own," and addedmany fine commendations greatly exceeding my deserts.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  When I had been