Constance Sherwood: An Autobiography of the Sixteenth Century

chase from treadingdown his corn, or for to make amends when it be done? Go to, go to,sweetheart; thou art a dextrous pleader, but hast failed to prove thypoint. Methinks there doth exist greater temptations for to swear orto quarrel in hunting than in fishing, and, if resisted, moreexcellent virtues then observed. One day last year, when I was inCheshire, Sir Peter Lee of Lime did invite me to hunt the stag, andthere being a great stag in chase and many gentlemen hot in thepursuit, the stag took soil, and divers, whereof I was one, alightedand stood with sword drawn to have a cut at him."

  "Oh, the poor stag!" I cried; "I do always sorely grieve for him."

  "Well," he continued, "the stags there be wonderfully fierce anddangerous, which made us youths more eager to be at him. But heescaped us all; and it was my misfortune to be hindered in my comingnear him, the way being slippery, by a fall which gave occasion tosome which did not know me to speak as if I had failed for fear; whichbeing told me, I followed the gentleman who first spoke it, intendingfor to pick a quarrel with him, and, peradventure, measure my swordwith his, so be his denial and repentance did not appear. But, I thankGod, afore I reached him my purpose had changed, and in its stead Iturned back to pursue the stag, and happened to be the only horsemanin when the dogs set him up at bay; and approaching near him, he brokethrough the dogs and ran at me, and took my horse's side with hishorns. Then I quitted my horse, and of a sudden getting behind him,got on his back and cut his throat with my sword."

  "Alack!" I cried, "I do mislike these bloody pastimes, and love not tothink of the violent death of any living creature."

  "Well, dear heart," he answered, "I will not make thee sad again bythe mention of the killing of so much as a rat, if it displeaseththee. But truly I mislike not to think of that day, for I warrantthee, in turning back from the pursuit of that injurious gentleman,somewhat more of virtue did exist than it hath been my hap often topractice. For, look you, sweet one, to some it doth cause no pain toforgive an injury which toucheth not their honor, or to plunge intothe sea to fish out a drowning man; but to be styled a coward, and yetto act as a Christian man should do, not seeking for to be revenged,why, methinks, there should be a little merit in it."

  "Yea," I said, "much in every way; but truly, sir, if your thinking isjust that easy virtue is little or no virtue, I shall be the leastvirtuous wife in the world."

  Upon this he laughed so loud that I told him he would fright all thefishes away.

  "I' faith, let them go if they list," he cried, and cast away his rod.Then coming to where I was sitting, he invited me to walk with himalongside the stream, and then asked me for to explain my last speech.

  "Why, Basil," I said, "what, I pray you, should be the duty of avirtuous wife but to love her husband?"

  So then he, catching my meaning, smiled and replied,

  "If that duty shall prove easy to thy affectionate heart, I doubt notbut others will arise which shall call for the exercise of moredifficult virtue."

  When we came to a sweet nook, where the shade made it too dark forgrass to grow, and only moss yielded a soil carpet for the feet, wesat down on a shelving slope of broken stones, and I exclaimed,

  "Oh, Basil, methinks we shall be too happy in this fair place; and Ido tax myself presently with hardness of heart, that in thy company,and the forecasting of a blissful time to come, I lose the sense ofrecent sorrows."

  "God doth yield thee this comfort," he answered, "for to refresh thybody and strengthen thy soul, which have both been verily sorelyafflicted of late. I ween he doth send us breathing-times with thismerciful intent."

  By such discourses as these we entertained ourselves at sundry times;but some of the sweetest hours we spent were occupied in planning thefuture manner of our lives, the good we should strive to do amongstour poor neighbors, and the sweet exercise of Catholic religion weshould observe.

  Foreseeing the frequent concealing of priests in his house, Basil sentone day for a young carpenter, one Master Owen, who hath since been sonoted for the contriving of hiding-places in all the recusants' housesin England; and verily what I noticed in him during the days he was atwork at Euston did agree with the great repute of sanctity he hathsince obtained. His so small stature, his trick of silence, hisexceeding recollected and composed manner filled me with admiration;and Basil told me nothing would serve him, the morning he arrived,when he found a priest was in the house, but to go to shrift and holycommunion, which was his practice, before ever he set to work at hisgood business. I took much pleasure in watching his progress. Hescooped out a cell in the walls of the gallery, contriving a door suchas I remembered at Sherwood Hall, which none could see to open unlessthey did know of the spring. All the time he was laboring thereat, Icould discern him to be praying; and when he wot not any to be nearhim, sang hymns in a loud and exceeding sweet voice. I have neverobserved in any one a more religious behavior than in this youth, who,by his subtle and ingenious art, hath saved the lives of many priests,and procured mass to be said in houses where none should have durstfor to say or hear it if a refuge of this kind did not exist, whereina man may lie ensconced for years, and none can find him, if he comenot forth himself.

  When he was gone, other sort of workmen were called in, for to makemore habitable and convenient a portion of this large house. For inthis the entire consenting of our minds did appear, that neither of usdesired for to spend money on showy improvements, or to inhabit tenchambers when five should suffice. What one proposed, the other alwaysliked well; and if in tastes we did sometimes differ, yet nodisagreement ensued. For, albeit Basil cared not as much as I did forthe good ordering of the library, his indulgent kindness didnevertheless incline him to favor me with a promise that one hundredfair, commendable books should be added to those his good father hadcollected. He said that Hubert should aid us to choose these goodlyvolumes, holy treatises, and histories in French and English, if itliked me, and poetry also. One pleasant chamber he did laughinglyappoint for to be the scholar's room, in the which he should never somuch as show his face, but Hubert and I read and write, if we listed,our very heads off. The ancient chapel was now a hall; and, save somecarving on the walls which could not be recovered, no traces didremain of its old use. But at the top-most part of the house, at thehead of a narrow staircase, was a chamber wherein mass was sometimessaid; and since Basil's return, he had procured that each Saturday apriest should come and spend the night with him, for the convenienceof all the neighboring Catholics who resorted there for to go to theirduty. Lady Tregony and her household--which were mostly Catholic, buthad not the same commodities in her house, where to conceal any onewas more hard, for that it stood almost in the village of Fakenham,and all comers and goers proved visible to the inhabitants--did repairon Sundays, at break of day, to Euston. How sweet were those rides inthe fair morning light, the dew bespangling every herb and tree, andthe wild flowers filling the air with their fresh fragrance! The paleprimroses, the azure harebell, the wood-anemone, and the dark-bluehyacinth--what dainty nosegays they furnished us with for our BlessedLady's altar! of which the fairest image I ever beheld stood in thelittle secret chapel at Euston. Basil did much affection this image ofBlessed Mary; for as far back as he could remember he had been used tosay his prayers before it; and when his mother died, he being onlyseven years of age, he knelt before this so lively representation ofGod's Mother, beseeching of her to be a mother to him also; whichprayer methinks verily did take effect, his life having been marked bysingular tokens of her maternal care.

  In the Holy Week, which fell that year in the second week of April, heprocured the aid of three priests, and had all the ceremoniesperformed which do appertain to that sacred season. On Wednesday,toward evening began _Tenebrae_, with the mysterious candlestick offifteen lights, fourteen of them representing, by the extinguishing ofthem, the disciples which forsook Christ; the fifteenth on the top,which was not put out, his dear Mother, who from the crib to thecross, was not severed from him. On Thursday we decked the sepulchrewherein the Blessed Sacrament reposed with
flowers and all such jewelsas we possessed, and namely with a very fair diamond cross which Basilhad gifted me with, and reverently attended it day and night. "Goddefend," I said to Basil, when the sepulchre was removed, "I shouldretain for vain uses what was lent to our Lord yester eve!" andstraightway hung on the cross to our Lady's neck. On Friday we allcrept to the crucifix, and kissing, bathed it with our tears. OnSaturday every fire was extinguished in the house, and kindled againwith hallowed fire. Then ensued the benediction of the paschal candle,and the rest of the divine ceremonies, till mass. At mass, as soon asthe priest pronounced "Gloria in excelsis," a cloth, contrived by LadyTregony and me, and which veiled the altar, made resplendentwith lights and flowers, was suddenly snatched away, and many littlebells we had prepared for