THE HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THOS. MORE.[3]

THE HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THO^S. MORE.[3]

LIBELLUS A MARGARETA MORE, QUINDECIM ANNOS NATA, CHELSEIÆ INCEPTVS

"Nulla dies sine linea."

April, 1534.

A heavier charge than either of y^e above hath been got up, concerning the wicked woman of Kent, with whom they accuse him of having tampered, that, in her pretended revelations and rhapsodies, she might utter words against the king's divorce. His name hath, indeed, been put in the bill of attainder; but, out of favor, he hath been granted a private hearing, his judges being, the new archbishop, the new chancellor, his grace of Norfolk, and Master Cromwell.

He tells us that they stuck not to y^e matter in hand, but began cunningly enow to sound him on y^e king's matters; and finding they could not shake him, did proceed to threats, which, he told 'em, might well enow scare children, but not him, and as to his having provoked his grace the king to sett forth in his book aught to dishonour and fetter a good Christian, his grace himself well knew the book was never shewn him save for verbal criticism when y^e subject matter was completed by the makers of y^e same, and that he had warned his grace not to express soe much submission to the pope. Whereupon they with great displeasure dismissed him, and he took boat for Chelsea with mine husband in such gay spiritts, that Will, not having been privy to what had passed, concluded his name to have beene struck out of y^e bill of attainder, and congratulated him thereupon soe soone as they came aland, saying, "I guess, father, all is well, seeing you thus merry."

"It is indeed, son Roper," returns father steadilie, repeating thereupon, once or twice, this phrase, "All is well."

Will, somehow mistrusting him, puts the matter to him agayn.

"You are then, father, put out of the bill?"

"Out of the bill, good fellow?" repeats father, stopping short in his walk, and regarding him with a smile that Will sayth was like to break his heart.... "Wouldst thou know, dear son, why I am so joyful? In good faith, I have given the devil a foul fall, for I have with those lords gone so far, as that without great shame I can ne'er go back. The first step, Will, is the worst, and that's taken."

And so, to the house, with never another word, Will being smote at the heart.

But, this forenoon, deare Will comes running in to me, with joy all bright, and tells me he hath just heard from Cromwell that father's name is in sooth struck out. Thereupon, we go together to him with the news. He taketh it thankfully, yet composedly, saying, as he lays his hand on my shoulder, "In faith, Meg, quod differtur non aufertur." Seeing me somewhat stricken and overborne, he sayth, "Come, let's leave good Will awhile to the company of his own select and profitable thoughts, and take a turn together by the water side."

Then closing his book, which I marked was Plato's Phædon, he steps forthe with me into the garden, leaning on my shoulder, and pretty heavilie too. After a turn or two in silence, he lightens his pressure, and in a bland, peaceifying tone commences Horace his tenth ode, book second, and goes through the first fourteen or fifteen lines in a kind of lulling monotone; then takes another turn or two, ever looking at the Thames, and in a stronger voice begins his favorite

on to

—and lets go his hold on me to extend his hand in fine, free action. Then, drawing me to him agayn, presentlie murmurs, "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with y^e glory which shall be revealed in us.... Oh no, not worthy to be compared. I have lived; I have laboured; I have loved. I have lived in them I loved; laboured for them I loved; loved them for whom I laboured; my labour has not been in vayn. To love and to labour is the sum of living, and yet how manie think they live who neither labour nor love. Again, how manie labour and love, and yet are not loved; but I have beene loved, and my labour has not been in vayn. Now, the daye is far spent, and the night forecloseth, and the time draweth nigh when man resteth from his labours, even from his labours of love; but still he shall love and he shall live where the Spiritt sayth he shall rest from his labours, and where his works do follow him, for he entereth into rest through and to Him who is Life, and Light, and Love."

Then looking stedfastlie at the Thames, "How quietlie," sayth he, "it flows on! This river, Meg, hath its origin from seven petty springs somewhither amongst y^e Gloucestershire hills, where they bubble forthe unnoted save by the herd and hind. Belike, they murmur over the pebbles prettily enough; but a great river, mark you, never murmurs. It murmured and babbled too, 'tis like, whilst only a brook, and brawled away as it widened and deepened and chafed agaynst obstacles, and here and there got a fall, and splashed and made much ado, but ever kept running on towards its end, still deepening and widening; and now towards the close of its course look you how swift and quiet it is, running mostly between flats, and with the dear blue heaven reflected in its face." ...

'Twas o' Wednesdaye was a week, we were quietly taking our dinner, when, after a loud and violent knocking at y^e outer door, in cometh a poursuivant, and summoneth father to appear next daye before y^e commissioners, to take y^e newly coined oath of supremacy. Mother utters a hasty cry, Bess turns white as death, but I, urged by I know not what suddain impulse to con the new comer's visage narrowly, did with eagerness exclaim, "Here's some jest of father's; 'tis only Dick Halliwell!"

Whereupon, father burst out a laughing, hugged mother, called Bess a silly puss, and gave Halliwell a grout for 's payns. Now, while some were laughing, and others taking father prettie sharplie to task for soe rough a crank, I fell a muzing, what c^d be y^e drift of this, and could only surmize it mighte be to harden us beforehand, as 'twere, to what was sure to come at last. And the preapprehension of this so belaboured my alreadie o'erburthened spiritts, as that I was fayn to betake myself to y^e nurserie, and lose alle thought and reflection in my little Bill's prettie ways. And, this not answering, was forct to have recourse to prayer; then, leaving my closett, was able to return to y^e nurserie, and forget myselfe awhile in the mirth of the infants.

Hearing voyces beneathe y^e lattice, I lookt forthe, and behelde his Grace of Norfolk (of late a strange guest) walking beneath y^e window in earnest converse with father, and, as they turned about, I hearde him say, "By the mass, master More, 'tis perilous striving with princes. I could wish you, as a friend, to incline to the king's pleasure; for, indignatio principis mors est."

"Is that all?" says father; "why then there will be onlie this difference between your grace and me, that I shall die to-daye, and you to-morrow;"—which was the sum of what I caught.

Next morning, we were breaking our fast with peacefullness of heart, on y^e principle that sufficient for the daye is the evill thereof, and there had beene a wordy war between our two factions of the Neri and Bianchi, Bess having defalked from y^e mancheteers on y^e ground that black bread sweetened the breath and settled the teeth, to the no small triumph of the cob-loaf party; while Daisy, persevering at her crusts, sayd "No, I can cleave to the rye bread as steddilie as anie among you, but 'tis vayn of father to maintain that it is as toothsome as a manchet, or that I eat it to whiten my teeth, for thereby he robs self-deniall of its grace."

Father, strange to say, seemed taken at vantage, and was pausing for a retort, when Hobson coming in and whispering somewhat in his ear, he rose suddainlie and went forthe of the hall with him, putting his head back agayn to say, "Rest ye alle awhile where ye be," which we did, uneasilie enow. Anon he returns, brushing his beaver, and says calmlie, "Now, let's forthe to church," and clips mother's arme beneathe his owne and leads the way. We follow as soon as we can, and I, listing to him more than to y^e priest, did think I never hearde him make response more composedlie, nor sing more lustilie, by the which I founde myself in stouter heart. After prayers, he is shriven, after which he saunters back with us to the house, then brisklie turning on his heel, cries to my husband, "Now, Will, let's toward, lad," and claps the wicket after him, leaving us at t'other side without so much as casting back a parting look. Though he evermore had been advised to let us companie him to the boat, and there kiss him once and agayn or ever he went, I know not that I s^d have thoughte much of this, had not Daisy, looking after him keenly, exclaymed somewhat shortlie as she turned in doors, "I wish I had not uttered that quip about the cob-loaf."

Lord, how heavilie sped y^e day! The house, too big now for its master's diminished retinue, had yet never hitherto seemed lonesome; but now a somewhat of dreary and dreadfull, inexpressible in words, invisible to the eye, but apprehended by the inner sense, filled the blank space alle about. For the first time, everie one seemed idle; not only disinclined for businesse, but as though there were something unseemlie in addressing one's self to it. There was nothing to cry about, nothing to talk over, and yet we alle stoode agaze at each other in groups, like the cattle under y^e trees when a storm is at hand. Mercy was the first to start off. I held her back and said, "What is to do?" She whispered, "Pray." I let her arm drop, but Bess at that instant comes up with cheeks as colourless as parchment. She sayth, "'Tis made out now. A poursuivant de facto fetched him forthe this morning." We gave one deep, universal sigh; Mercy broke away, and I after her, to seek the same remedie, but alack, in vayn....

How large a debt we owe you, wise and holie men of old! How ye counsel us to patience, incite us to self-mastery, cheer us on to high emprize, temper in us the heat of youth, school our inexperience, calm the o'erwrought mind, allay the anguish of disappointment, cheat suspense, and master despair.... How much better and happier ye would make us, if we would but list your teaching!

Bess hath fallen sick; no marvell. Everie one goeth heavilie. All joy is darkened; the mirthe of the house is gone.

Will tells me, that as they pushed off from y^e stairs, father took him about the neck and whispered, "I thank our Lord, the field is won!" Sure, Regulus ne'er went forthe with higher self-devotion.

Having declared his inabilitie to take y^e oath as it stoode, they bade him, Will tells me, take a turn in the garden while they administered it to sundrie others, thus affording him leisure for reconsideration. But they might as well have bidden the neap-tide turn before its hour. When called in agayn, he was as firm as ever, so was given in ward to y^e Abbot of Westminster till the king's grace was informed of the matter. And now, the fool's wise saying of vindictive Herodias came true, for 'twas the king's mind to have mercy on his old servant, and tender him a qualifyed oath; but queen Anne, by her importunate clamours, did overrule his proper will, and at four days end, y^e full oath being agayn tendered and rejected, father was committed to y^e Tower. Oh, wicked woman, how could you?... Sure, you never loved a father....

In answer to our incessant applications throughout this last month past, mother hath at length obtayned access to dear father. She returned, her eyes nigh swollen to closing with weeping ... we crowded round about, burning for her report, but 'twas some time ere she coulde fetch breath or heart to give it us. At length Daisy, kissing her hand once and agayn, draws forthe a disjoynted tale, somewhat after this fashion.

"Come, give over weeping, dearest mother; 'twill do neither him, you, nor us anie goode.... What was your first speech of him?"

"Oh, my first speech, sweetheart, was, 'What, my goodness, Mr. More! I marvell how that you, who were always counted a wise man, s^d now soe play the fool as to lie here in this close, filthy prison, shut up with mice and rats, when you mighte be abroade and at your liberty, with y^e favour of king and council, and return to your righte fayr house, your books and gallery, and your wife, children, and household, if soe be you onlie woulde but do what the bishops and best learned of the realm have, without scruple, done alreadie.'"

"And what sayd he, mother, to that?" ...

"Why, then, sweetheart, he chucks me under the chin and sayeth, 'I prithee, good mistress Alice, to tell me one thing.' ... Soe then I say, 'What thing?' Soe then he sayeth, 'Is not this house, sweetheart, as nigh heaven as mine own?' Soe then I jerk my head away and say 'Tilly-valley! tilley-valley.'"

Sayth Bess, "Sure, mother, that was cold comfort.... And what next?"

"Why, then I said, 'Bone Deus, man! Bone Deus! will this gear never be left? Soe then he sayth, 'Well then, Mrs. Alice, if it be soe, 'tis mighty well, but, for my part, I see no greate reason why I shoulde much joy in my gay house, or in aniething belonging thereunto, when, if I shoulde be but seven years buried underground, and then arise and come thither agayn, I shoulde not fail to find some therein that woulde bid me get out of doors, and tell me 'twas none o' mine. What cause have I then, to care so greatlie for a house that woulde soe soone forget its master?'" ...

"And then, mother? and then?"

"Soe then, sweetheart, he sayth, 'Come, tell me, Mrs. Alice, how long do you think we might reckon on living to enjoy it?' Soe I say, 'Some twenty years, forsooth.' 'In faith,' says he, 'had you said some thousand years, it had beene somewhat; and yet he were a very bad merchant that woulde put himselfe in danger to lose eternity for a thousand years ... how much the rather if we are not sure to enjoy it one day to an end?' Soe then he puts me off with questions, How is Will? and Daisy? and Rupert? and this one? and t'other one? and the peacocks? and rabbits? and have we elected a new king of the cob-loaf yet? and has Tom found his hoop? and is y^e hasp of the buttery-hatch mended yet? and how goes the court? and what was the text o' Sunday? and have I practised the viol? and how are we off for money? and why can't he see Meg? Then he asks for this book and t'other book, but I've forgot their names, and he sayth he's kept mighty short of meat, though 'tis little he eats, but his man John a Wood is gay an' hungry, and 'tis worth a world to see him at a salt herring. Then he gives me counsell of this and that, and puts his arm about me and says, 'Come, let us pray;' but while he kept praying for one and t'other, I kept a-counting of his gray hairs; he'd none a month agone. And we're scarce off our knees, when I'm fetched away; and I say, 'When will you change your note, and act like a wise man?' and he sayth, 'When? when!' looking very profound; 'why, ... when gorse is out of blossom and kissing out of fashion.' Soe puts me forthe by the shoulders with a laugh, calling after me, 'Remember me over and over agayn to them alle, and let me se Meg.'"

... I feel as if a string were tied tight about my heart. Methinketh 'twill burst if we goe on long soe.

He hath writ us a few lines with a coal, ending with "Sursum corda, dear children! up with your hearts." The bearer was dear Bonvisi.

The Lord begins to cut us short. We are now on very meagre commons, dear mother being obliged to pay fifteen shillings a-week for the board, poor as it is, of father and his servant. She hath parted with her velvet gown, embroidered overthwart, to my lady Sand's woman. Her mantle edged with coney went long ago.

But we lose not heart; I think mine is becoming annealed in the furnace, and will not now break. I have writ somewhat after this fashion to him.... "What do you think, most dear father, doth comfort us at Chelsea, during this your absence? Surelie, the remembrance of your manner of life among us, your holy conversation, your wholesome counsells, your examples of virtue, of which there is hope that they do not onlie persevere with you, but that, by God's grace, they are much increast."

I weary to see him.... Yes, we shall meet in heaven, but how long first, oh Lord? how long?

Now that I've come back, let me seek to think, to remember.... Sure, my head will clear by-and-by? Strange, that feeling shoulde have the masterdom of thought and memory, in matters it is most concerned to retayn.

... I minded to put y^e haircloth and cord under my farthingale, and one or two of y^e smaller books in my pouch, as alsoe some sweets and suckets such as he was used to love. Will and Bonvisi were awaiting for me, and deare Bess, putting forthe her head from her chamber door, cries piteously, "Tell him, dear Meg, tell him ... 'twas never soe sad to me to be sick ... and that I hope ... I pray ... the time may come ..." then falls back swooning into Dancey's arms, whom I leave crying heartilie over her, and hasten below to receive the confused medley of messages sent by every other member of y^e house. For mine owne part, I was in such a tremulous succussion as to be scarce fitt to stand or goe, but time and the tide will noe man bide, and, once having taken boat, the cool river air allayed my fevered spiritts; onlie I coulde not for awhile get ridd of y^e impression of poor Dancey crying over Bess in her deliquium.

I think none o' the three opened our lips before we reached Lambeth, save, in y^e Reach, Will cried to y^e steersman, "Look you run us not aground," in a sharper voyce than I e'er heard from him. After passing y^e Archbishop's palace, whereon I gazed full ruefullie, good Bonvisi beganne to mention some rhymes he had founde writ with a diamond on one of his window-panes at Crosby House, and would know were they father's? and was't y^e chamber father had used to sleep in? I tolde him it was, but knew nought of y^e distich, though 'twas like enow to be his. And thence he went on to this and that, how that father's cheerfulle, funny humour never forsook him, nor his brave heart quelled, instancing his fearlesse passage through the Traitor's Gate, asking his neighbours whether his gait was that of a traditor; and, on being sued by the porter for his upper garment, giving him his cap, which he sayd was uppermost. And other such quips and passages, which I scarce noted nor smiled at, soe sorry was I of cheer.

At length we stayed rowing: Will lifted me out, kissed me, heartened me up, and, indeede, I was in better heart then, having been quietlie in prayer a good while. After some few forms, we were led through sundrie turns and passages, and, or ever I was aware, I found myselfe quit of my companions, and in father's arms.

We both cried a little at first; I wonder I wept noe more, but strength was given me in that hour. As soone as I coulde, I lookt him in the face, and he lookt at me, and I was beginning to note his hollow cheeks, when he sayd, "Why, Meg, you are getting freckled:" soe that made us bothe laugh. He sayd, "You shoulde get some freckle-water of the lady that sent me here; depend on it, she hath washes and tinctures in plenty; and after all, Meg, she'll come to the same end at last, and be as the lady all bone and skin, whose ghastlie legend used to scare thee soe when thou wert a child. Don't tell that story to thy children; 'twill hamper 'em with unsavory images of death. Tell them of heavenlie hosts a-waiting to carry off good men's souls in fire-bright chariots, with horses of the sun, to a land where they shall never more be surbated and weary, but walk on cool, springy turf and among myrtle trees, and eat fruits that shall heal while they delight them, and drink the coldest of cold water, fresh from y^e river of life, and have space to stretch themselves, and bathe, and leap, and run, and, whichever way they look, meet Christ's eyes smiling on them. Lord, Meg, who would live, that could die? One mighte as lief be an angel shut up in a nutshell as bide here. Fancy how gladsome the sweet spirit would be to have the shell cracked! no matter by whom; the king, or king's mistress.... Let her dainty foot but set him free, he'd say, 'For this release, much thanks.' ... And how goes the court, Meg?"

"In faith, father, never better.... There is nothing else there, I hear, but dancing and disporting."

"Never better, child, sayst thou? Alas, Meg, it pitieth me to consider what misery, poor soul, she will shortlie come to. These dances of hers will prove such dances that she will spurn our heads off like footballs; but 'twill not be long ere her head will dance the like dance. Mark you, Meg, a man that restraineth not his passions hath always something cruel in his nature, and if there be a woman toward, she is sure to suffer heaviest for it, first or last.... Seek scripture precedent for't ... you'll find it as I say. Stony as death, cruel as the grave. Those Pharisees that were, to a man, convicted of sin, yet haled a sinning woman before the Lord, and woulde fain have seen the dogs lick up her blood. When they lick up mine, deare Meg, let not your heart be troubled, even though they shoulde hale thee to London Bridge to see my head stuck on a pole. Think, most dear'st, I shall then have more reason to weep for thee than thou for me. But there's noe weeping in heaven, and bear in mind, Meg, distinctlie, that if they send me thither, 'twill be for obeying the law of God rather than of men. And after alle, we live not in the bloody, barbarous old times of crucifyings and flayings, and immersings in cauldrons of boiling oil. One stroke, and the affair's done. A clumsy chirurgeon would be longer extracting a tooth. We have oft agreed that the little birds struck down by the kite and hawk suffer less than if they were reserved to a naturall death. There is one sensible difference, indeed, between us. In our cases, preparation is a-wanting."

Hereon, I minded me to slip off y^e haircloth and rope, and give the same to him, along with the books and suckets, all which he hid away privatelie, making merry at the last.

"'Twoulde tell well before the council," quoth he, "that on searching the prison-cell of Sir Thomas More, there was founde, flagitiouslie and mysteriouslie laid up ... a piece of barley-sugar!"

Then we talked over sundry home-matters; and anon, having now both of us attayned unto an equable and chastened serenitie of mind, which needed not any false shows of mirth to hide y^e naturall complexion of, he sayth, "I believe, Meg, they that have put me here ween they have done me a high displeasure; but I assure thee on my faith, mine own good daughter, that if it had not beene for my wife, and you, my dear good children, I would faine have beene closed up, long ere this, in as straight a room, and straighter too."

Thereon, he shewed me how illegal was his imprisonment, there being noe statute to authorize the imposition of y^e oath, and he delivered himself, with some displeasure, agaynst the king's ill counsellors.

"And surelie, Meg," quoth he, "'tis pitie that anie Christian prince shoulde, by a flexible council readie to follow his affections, and by a weak clergy lacking grace to stand constantly to the truth as they learned it, be with flattery so constantly abused. The lotus fruit fabled by the ancients, which made them that ate it lose alle relish for the daylie bread of their own homes, was flattery, Meg, as I take it, and nothing else. And what less was the song of the Syrens, agaynst which Ulysses made the sailors stop their ears, and which he, with all his wisdom, coulde not listen to without struggling to be unbound from the mast? Even praise, Meg, which, moderately given, may animate and cheer forward the noblest minds, yet too lavishly bestowed, will decrease and palsy their strength, e'en as an overdose of the most generous and sprightlie medicine may prove mortiferous. But flattery is noe medicine, but a rank poison, which hath slayn kings, yea, and mighty kings; and they who love it, the Lord knoweth afar off; knoweth distantlie, has no care to know intimatelie, for they are none of his."

Thus we went on, from one theme to another, till methinketh a heavenlie light seemed to shine alle about us like as when the angel entered the prison of Peter. I hung upon everie word and thought that issued from his lips, and drank them in as thirsty land sucks up the tender rain.... Had the angel of death at that hour come to fetch both of us away, I woulde not have sayd him nay, I was soe passivelie, so intenselie happy. At length, as time wore on, and I knew I shoulde soone be fetcht forthe, I coulde not but wish I had the clew to some secret passage or subterreneal, of which there were doubtless plenty in the thick walls, whereby we might steal off together. Father made answer, "Wishes never filled a sack. I make it my businesse, Meg, to wish as little as I can, except that I were better and wiser. You fancy these four walls lonesome; how oft, dost thou suppose, I here receive Plato and Socrates, and this and that holy saint and martyr? My jailors can noe more keep them out than they can exclude the sunbeams. Thou knowest, Jesus stood among his disciples when the doors were shut. I am not more lonely than St. Anthony in his cave, and I have a divine light e'en here, whereby to con the lesson 'God is love.' The futility of our enemies' efforts to make us miserable was never more stronglie proven to me than when I was a mere boy in Cardinal Morton's service. Having unwittinglie angered one of his chaplains, a choleric and even malignant-spirited man, he did, of his owne authoritie, shut me up for some hours in a certayn damp vault, which, to a lad afeard of ghosts and devilish apparitions, would have been fearsome enow. Howbeit, I there cast myself on the ground with my back sett agaynst the wall, and mine arm behind my head, this fashion ... and did then and there, by reason of a young heart, quiet conscience, and quick phansy, conjure up such a lively picture of the queen o' the fairies' court, and alle the sayings and doings therein, that never was I more sorry than when my gaoler let me goe free, and bade me rise up and be doing. In place, therefore, my daughter, of thinking of me in thy night watches as beating my wings agaynst my cage bars, trust that God comes to look in upon me without knocking or bell-ringing. Often in spiritt I am with you alle; in the chapel, in the hall, in the garden; now in the hayfield, with my head on thy lap, now on the river, with Will and Rupert at the oar. You see me not about your path, you won't see my disembodied spiritt beside you hereafter, but it may be close upon you once and agayn for alle that: maybe, at times when you have prayed with most passion, or suffered with most patience, or performed my hests with most exactness, or remembered my care of you with most affection. And now, good speed, good Meg, I hear the key turn in the door.... This kiss for thy mother, this for Bess, this for Cecil, ... this and this for my whole school. Keep dry eyes and a hopeful heart; and reflect that nought but unpardoned sin should make us weep forever."