THE HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THOS. MORE.

[Continued from the August Number.]

LIBELLUS A MARGARETA MORE, QUINDECIM ANNOS NATA, CHELSEIÆ INCEPTVS.

"Nulla dies sine linea."

Who coulde have thoughte that those ripe grapes whereof dear Gaffer ate soe plentifullie, s^d have ended his dayes? This event hath filled y^e house with mourning. He had us all about his bed to receive his blessing; and 'twas piteous to see father fall upon his face, as Joseph on the face of Jacob, and weep upon him and kiss him. Like Jacob, my grandsire lived to see his well-beloved son attain to y^e height of earthlie glory, his heart unspoyled and untouched.

The days of mourning for my grandsire are at an end; yet father still goeth heavilie. This forenoon, looking forthe of my lattice, I saw him walking along the river side, his arm cast about Will's neck; and 'twas a dearer sight to my soul than to see the king walking there with his arm around father's neck. They seemed in such earnest converse, that I was avised to ask Will, afterwards, what they had been saying. He told me that, after much friendly chat together on this and that, father fell into a muse, and presently, fetching a deep sigh, says:

"Would to God, son Roper, on condition three things were well established in Christendom, I were put into a sack, and cast presently into the Thames." Will sayth:

"What three soe great things can they be, father, as to move you to such a wish?"

"In faith, Will," answers he, "they be these: First, that whereas the most part of Christian princes be at war, they were at universal peace. Next, that whereas the Church of Christ is at present sore afflicted with divers errors and heresies, it were well settled in a godly uniformity. Last, that this matter of the king's marriage were, to the glory of God, and the quietness of alle parties, brought to a good conclusion."

Indeed, this last matter preys on my father's soul. He hath even knelt to the king to refrain from exacting compliance with his grace's will concerning it; movingly reminding him, even with tears, of his grace's own words to him on delivering the great seal, "First look unto God, and, after God, unto me." But the king is heady in this matter; stubborn as a mule or wild ass's colt, whose mouths must be held with bit and bridle if they be to be governed at alle; and the king hath taken y^e bit between his teeth, and there is none dare ride him. All for love of a brown girl, with a wen on her throat, and an extra finger.

How short a time agone it seemeth, that in my prosperity I sayd, "We shall never be moved; Thou, Lord, of Thy goodness hast made our hill soe strong!" ... Thou didst turn away Thy face, and I was troubled!

Thus sayth Plato: of Him whom he soughte, but hardly found: "Truth is his body, and Light his shadow." A marvelous saying for a heathen.

Hear also what St. John sayth: "God is Light; and in him is no darkness at all." "And the Light was the life of men: and the Light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not."

Hear also what St. Augustine sayth: "They are the most uncharitable towards error who have never experienced how hard a matter it is to come at the Truth."

Hard, indeed. Here's father agaynst Will, and agaynst Erasmus, of whom he once c^d not speak well enough; and now he says that if he upholds such and such opinions, his dear Erasmus may be the devil's Erasmus for what he cares. And here's father at issue with half y^e learned heads in Christendom concerning y^e king's marriage. And yet, for alle that, I think father is in the right.

He taketh matters soe to heart that e'en his appetite fails. Yesterday he put aside his old favorite dish of brewis, saying, "I know not how 'tis, good Alice; I've lost my stomach, I think, for my old relishes" ... and this, e'en with a tear in his eye. But 'twas not the brewis, I know, that made it start.

He hath resigned the Great Seal! And none of us knew e'en of his meditating it, nor of his having done soe, till after morning prayers to-day, when, insteade of one of his gentlemen stepping up to my mother in her pew with the words, "Madam, my Lord is gone," he cometh up to her himself, with a smile on's face, and sayth, low bowing as he spoke, "Madam, my Lord is gone." She takes it for one of the manie jests whereof she misses the point; and 'tis not till we are out of church, in y^e open air, that she fully comprehends my Lord Chancellor is indeed gone, and she hath onlie her Sir Thomas More.

A burst of tears was no more than was to be lookt for from poor mother; and, in sooth, we alle felt aggrieved and mortyfide enough; but 'twas a short sorrow; for father declared that he had cast Pelion and Ossa off his back into the bottomless pit; and fell into such funny antics that we were soon as merry as ever we were in our lives. Patteson, so soon as he hears it, comes leaping and skipping across the garden, crying, "A fatted calf! let a fatted calf be killed, masters and mistresses, for this my brother who was dead is alive again!" and falls a-kissing his hand. But poor Patteson's note will soon change; for father's diminished state will necessitate y^e dismissal of all extra hands; and there is manie a servant under his roof whom he can worse spare than the poor fool.

In the evening he gathers us alle about him in the pavillion, where he throws himself into his old accustomed seat, casts his arm about mother, and cries, "How glad must Cincinnatus have been to spy out his cottage again, with Racilia standing at the gate!" Then, called for curds and cream; sayd how sweet y^e soft May air was coming over the river, and bade Cecil sing "The king's hunt's up." After this, one ballad after another was called for, till alle had sung their lay, ill or well, he listing the while with closed eyes, and a composed smile about his mouth; the two furrows between his brows relaxing graduallie till at length they c^d no more be seene. At last he says,

"Who was that old prophet that could not or would not prophesy for a King of Judah till a minstrel came and played unto him? Sure, he must have loved as I do, the very lovely song of one that playeth well upon an instrument, yclept the human heart; and have felt, as I do now, the spirit given him to speak of matters foreign to his mind. 'Tis of res angusta domæ, dear brats, I must speak; soe, the sooner begun, the sooner over. Here am I, with a dear wife and eight loved children ... for my daughters' husbands and my son's wife are my children as much as any; and Mercy Giggs is a daughter too ... nine children, then, and eleven grandchildren, and a swarm of servants to boot, all of whom have as yet eaten what it pleased them, and drunken what it suited them at my board, without its being any one's business to say them nay. 'Twas the dearest privilege of my Lord Chancellor; but now he's dead and gone, how shall we contract the charges of Sir Thomas More?"

We looked from one to another, and were silent.

"I'll tell ye, dear ones," he went on, "I have been brought up at Oxford, at an inn of Chancery, at Lincoln's Inn, and at the King's Court; from the lowest degree, that is, to the highest; and yet have I in yearly revenues at this present, little above one hundred pounds a-year; but then, as Chilo sayth, 'honest loss is preferable to dishonest gain: by the first, a man suffers once; by the second, forever;' and I may take up my parable with Samuel, and say: 'Whose ox have I taken? whose ass have I taken? whom have I defrauded? whom have I oppressed? of whose hand have I received any bribe to blinde mine eyes therewith?' No, my worst enemies can not lay to my charge any of these things, and my trust in you is, that, rather than regret I should not have made a purse by any such base methods, you will all cheerfully contribute your proportions to the common fund, and share and share alike with me in this my diminished state."

We all gat about him, and by our words and kisses gave warrant that we would.

"Well, then," quoth he, "my mind is, that since we are all of a will to walk down-hill together, we will do soe at a breathing pace, and not drop down like a plummet. Let all things be done decently and in order: we won't descend to Oxford fare first, nor yet to the fare of New Inn. We'll begin with Lincoln's Inn diet, whereon many good and wise men thrive well; if we find this draw too heavily on the common purse, we will, next year, come down to Oxford fare, with which many great and learned doctors have been conversant; and, if our purse stretch not to cover e'en this, why, in heaven's name! we'll go begging together, with staff and wallet, and sing a Salve Regina at every good man's door, whereby we shall still keep company, and be merry together!"

Now that the first surprise and grief, and the first fervour of fidelity and self-devotion have passed off, we have subsided into how deep and holy a quiet!

We read of the desertion of the world as a matter of course; but, when our own turn comes, it does seem strange, to find ourselves let fall down the stream without a single hand outstretched to help us; forgotten, in a moment, as though we had never been, by those who lately ate and laughed at our table. And this, without any fault or offense of ours, but merely from our having lost the light of the king's countenance. I say, it does seem strange; but how fortunate, how blessed are those to whom such a course of events only seems strange, unaccompanied by self-reproach and bitterness! I could not help feeling this, in reading an affectionate letter deare father writ this forenoon to Erasmus, wherein he sayd, "I have now obtained what, from a child, I have continually wished! that, being entirely quit of businesse and all publick affairs, I might live for a time only to God and myself."

Having no hankering after the old round he soe long hath run, he now, in fact, looks younger every day; and yet, not with the same kind of youth he had before his back was bowed under the chancellorship. 'Tis a more composed, chastised sort of rejuvenescence: rather the soft warmth of autumn, which sometimes seems like May, than May itself: the enkindling, within this mortal tabernacle, of a heavenly light that never grows dim, because it is immortal; and burns the same yesterday, to-day, and forever: a youthfulness of soul and mind characterised by growth; something with which this world and its fleeting fancies has nothing to do; something that the king can neither impart nor take away.

We have had a tearfull morning ... poor Patteson has gone. My father hath obtained good quarters for him with my Lord Mayor, with a stipulation that he shall retain his office with the Lord Mayor for the time being, as long as he can fill it at all. This suits Patteson, who says he will sooner shift masters year by year, than grow too fond of any man again, as he hath of father; but there has been sad blubbering and blowing of noses.

This afternoon, coming upon Mercy seated in y^e alcove, like unto the image of some saint in a niche, her hands folded on her lap, and her eyes steadfastly agaze on the setting sun, I could not but mark how years were silentlie at work upon her, as doubtless upon us alle; the tender, fearfulle girl having thus graduallie changed into the sober, high-minded woman. She is so seldom seene in repose, so constantly astir and afoot in this or that kind office, mostly about the children, that I had never thought upon it before; but now I was alle at once avised to marvel that she who had so long seemed fitter for heaven than earth, shoulde never literallie have vowed herself y^e spouse of Christ, more in especiall as all expectation of being y^e spouse of anie else must long since have died within her.

I sayd, "Mercy, thou lookst like a nun: how is't thou hast ne'er become one in earnest?"

She started; then sayd, "Could I be more usefull? more harmless? less exposed to temptation? or half so happy as I am now? In sooth, Meg, the time has been when methought, how sweet y^e living death of the cloister! How good that must needs be which had the suffrages of Chrysostom the golden-mouthed, and holy Ambrose, and our own Anselm! How peacefull, to take wing like y^e dove, and fly away from a naughty world, and be at rest! How brave, to live alone, like St. Antony, in the desert! only, I would have had some books with me in my cave, and 'tis uncertayn whether St. Antony had knowledge of letters, beyond y^e heaven-taught lesson, 'God is love' ... for methought so much reflection and no action would be too much for a woman's mind to bear—I might goe mad: and I remembered me how the dove that gladly flew away from the ark, gladly flew back, and abode in y^e ark till such time as a new home was ready for her. And methought, cannot I live apart from sin here, and now; and as to sorrow, where can we live apart from that? Sure, we may live on y^e skirts of the world in a spiritt as truly unwordlie as though we were altogether out of it: and here I may come and go, and range in the fresh air, and love other folks' children, and read my Psalter, and pore over the sayings of the wise men of old, and look on the faces I love, and sit at the feet of Sir Thomas More. Soe, there, Meg, are my poor reasons for not caring to be a nun. Our deare Lord is in himself all that our highest, holiest affections can seek or comprehend; for he made these our hearts; he gave us these our affections; and through them the Spirit speaks. Aspiring to their source, they rise up like the white smoke and bright flame; while, on earth, if left unmastered, they burn, suffocate, and destroy. Yet they have their naturall and innocent outlets even here; and a woman may warm herself by them without scorching, and yet be neither a wife nor a nun."

Ever since father's speech to us in y^e pavillion, we have beene of one heart and one soul; neither have any of us said that aught of the things we possessed were our own, but we have had all things in common. And we have eaten our meat with gladness and singleness of heart.

This afternoon, expressing to father my gratefull sense of our present happiness.... "Yes, Meg," returns he, "I, too, am deeply thankful for this breathing space."

"Do you look on it as no more, then?" I sayd.

"As no more, Meg: we shall have a thunder-clap by-and-by. Look out on the Thames. See how unwontedlie clear it is, and how low the swallows fly.... How distinctlie we see the green sedges on Battersea bank, and their reflected images in the water. We can almost discern the features of those poor knaves digging in the cabbage gardens, and hear 'em talk, so still is y^e air. Have you ne'er before noted these signs?"

"A storm is brewing," I sayd.

"Aye, we shall have a lightning-flash anon. So still, Meg, is also our moral atmosphere just now. God is giving us a breathing space, as he did to the Egyptians before the plague of hail, that they might gather their live stock within doors. Let us take for example them that believed and obeyed him; and improve this holy pause."

Just at this moment, a few heavie drops fell agaynst the window pane, and were seene by both. Our eyes met; and I felt a silent pang.

"Five days before the Passover," resumed father, "all seemed as still and quiet as we are now; but Jesus knew his hour was at hand. E'en while he yet spake familiarly among the people, there came a sound from heaven, and they that stood by said it thundered; but he knew it for the voice of his dear Father. Let us, in like manner, when the clap cometh, recognise in it the voice of God, and not be afraid with any amazement."

Gammer Gurney is dead, and I must say I am glad of it. The change, to her, must be blessed, and there seemed some danger lest, after having escaped being ducked for a witch, she shoulde have been burnt for a heretic. Father looked on her as an obstinate old woman; Will counted her little short of a saint and prophetess, and kept her well supplied with alle she could need. Latterly she was stone deaf; so 'tis a happy release.

The settled purpose of father's soul, just now, is to make up a marriage between Mercy and Dr. Clement. 'Tis high advancement for her, and there seems to have been some old liking between 'em we never knew of.

Though some months have passed since my father uttered his warning voice, and all continues to go quiet, I cannot forbear, now and then, to call his monition to mind, and look about for the cloud that is to bring the thunder-clap; but the expectation sobers rather than saddens me.

This morning, leaning over the river wall, I was startled by the cold, damp hand of some one from behind being laid on mine. At the same time a familiar voice exclaimed, "Canst tell us, mistress, why fools have hot heads and hands icy cold?"

I made answer, "Canst tell me, Patteson, why fools should stray out of bounds?"

"Why, that's what fools do every day," he readily replied; "but this is All Fools' Day, mine own special holiday; and I told my Lord Mayor overnight, that if he lookt for a fool this morning, he must look in the glass. In sooth, mistress Meg, I should by rights wear the gold chain and he the motley; for a proper fool he is, and I shall be glad when his year's service to me is out. The worst o' these Lord Mayors is, that we can't part with 'em till their time's up. Why now, this present one hath not so much under standing as would foot an old stocking; 'twas but yesterday when, in quality of my taster, he civilly enough makes over to me a half-eaten plate of gurnet, which I wave aside, thus, saying, I eat no fish of which I cannot affirm 'rari sunt boni,' few are the bones ... and I protest to you he knew it not for fool's latin. Thus I'm driven, from mere discouragement, to leave prating for listening, which thou knowest, mistress, is no fool's office; and among y^e sundrie matters I hear at my lord's table ... for he minds not what he says before his servants, thereby giving new proof 'tis he shoulde wear the motley ... I note his saying that y^e king's private marriage will assuredlie be made publick this coming Easter, and my Lady Anne will be crowned ... more by token, he knows y^e merchant that will supply the Genoa velvet and cloth of gold, and the masquers that are to enact the pageant. For the love o' safety, then, mistress Meg, bid thy good father e'en take a fool's advice, and eat humble pie betimes, for, doubt not this proud madam to be as vindictive as Herodias, and one that, unless he appease her full early, will have his head set before her in a charger. I've said my say."

Three bishops have been here this forenoon, to bid father to y^e coronation, and offer him twenty pounds to provide his dress; but father hath, with courtesie, declined to be present. After much friendly pressing, they parted, seemingly on good terms; but I have misgivings of y^e issue.

A ridiculous charge hath been got up 'gainst dear father; no less than of bribery and corruption. One Parnell complaineth of a decree given agaynst him in favour of one Vaughan, whose wife, he deponeth, gave father a gilt flaggon. To y^e noe small surprise of the Council, father admitted that she had done soe: "But, my lords," proceeded he, when they had uttered a few sentences of reprehension somewhat too exultantlie, "will ye list the conclusion of the tale? I bade my butler fill the cup with wine, and having drunk her health, I made her pledge me, and then restored her the gift, and would not take it again."

As innocent a matter, touching the offering him a pair of gloves containing forty pounds, and his taking the first and returning the last, saying he preferred his gloves without lining, hath been made publick with like triumph to his own good fame; but alack! these feathers show which way sets the wind.