Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 15, August, 1851. Various
'Twas touching the draught of some forayn treaty which ye Cardinall offered for his criticism, or rather, for his commendation, which father cd not give. This nettled his Grace, who exclaimed, – "By the mass, thou art the veriest fool of all the council." Father, smiling, rejoined, "God be thanked, the King our master hath but one fool therein."
The Cardinall may rage, but he can't rob him of the royal favour. The King was here yesterday, and walked for an hour or soe about the garden, with his arm round father's neck. Will coulde not help felicitating father upon it afterwards; to which father made answer, "I thank God I find his Grace my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly favour me as any subject within this realm. Howbeit, son Roper, I may tell thee between ourselves, I feel no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head would win him a castle in France, it shoulde not fail to fly off."
– Father is graver than he used to be. No wonder. He hath much on his mind; the calls on his time and thoughts are beyond belief: but God is very good to him. His favour at home and abroad is immense: he hath good health, soe have we alle; and his family are established to his mind and settled alle about him, still under ye same fostering roof. Considering that I am the most ordinarie of his daughters, 'tis singular I sd have secured the best husband. Daisy lives peaceablie with Rupert Allington, and is as indifferent, me seemeth, to him as to all ye world beside. He, on his part, loves her and theire children with devotion, and woulde pass half his time in ye nurserie. Dancey always had a hot temper, and now and then plagues Bess; but she lets noe one know it but me. Sometimes she comes into my chamber and cries a little, but the next kind word brightens her up, and I verilie believe her pleasures far exceed her payns. Giles Heron lost her through his own fault, and might have regained her good opinion after all, had he taken half the pains for her sake he now takes for her younger sister: I cannot think how Cecy can favour him; yet I suspect he will win her, sooner or later. As to mine own deare Will, 'tis the kindest, purest nature, the finest soul, the … and yet how I was senselesse enow once to undervalue him.
Yes, I am a happy wife; a happy daughter; a happy mother. When my little Bill stroaked dear father's face just now, and murmured "pretty!" he burst out a-laughing, and cried, —
"You are like the young Cyrus, who exclaimed, – 'Oh! mother, how pretty is my grandfather!' And yet, according to Xenophon, the old gentleman was soe rouged and made up, as that none but a child woulde have admired him!"
"That's not the case," I observed, "with Bill's grandfather."
"He's a More all over," says father, fondly. "Make a pun, Meg, if thou canst, about Amor, Amore, or Amores. 'Twill onlie be the thousand and first on our name. Here, little knave, see these cherries: tell me who thou art, and thou shalt have one. 'More! More!' I knew it, sweet villain. Take them all."
I oft sitt for an hour or more, watching Hans Holbein at his brush. He hath a rare gift of limning; and has, besides, the advantage of deare Erasmus his recommendation, for whom he hath alreddie painted our likenesses, but I think he has made us very ugly. His portraiture of my grandfather is marvellous; ne'erthelesse. I look in vayn for ye spirituallitie which our Lucchese friend, Antonio Bonvisi, tells us is to be found in the productions of ye Italian schools.
Holbein loves to paint with the lighte coming in upon his work from above. He says a lighte from above puts objects in theire proper lighte, and shews theire just proportions; a lighte from beneath reverses alle ye naturall shadows. Surelie, this hath some truth if we spirituallize it?
Rupert's cousin, Rosamond Allington, is our guest. She is as beautiful as … not as an angel, for she lacks the look of goodness, but very beautiful indeed. She cometh hither from Hever Castle, her account of ye affairs whereof I like not. Mistress Anne is not there at present; indeed, she is now always hanging about court, and followeth somewhat too literallie the Scripturall injunction to Solomon's spouse – to forget her father's house. The King likes well enow to be compared with Solomon, but Mistress Anne is not his spouse yet, nor ever will be, I hope. Flattery and Frenchified habitts have spoilt her, I trow.
Rosamond says there is not a good chamber in the castle; even ye ball-room, which is on ye upper floor of alle, being narrow and low. On a rainy day, long ago, she and Mistress Anne were playing at shuttlecock therein, when Rosamond's foot tripped at some unevennesse in ye floor, and Mistress Anne, with a laugh, cried out, "Mind you goe not down into ye dungeon" – then pulled up a trap-door in the ball-room floor, by an iron ring, and made Rosamond look down into the unknown depth; alle in ye blacknesse of darkness. 'Tis an awfulle thing to have onlie a step from a ball-room to a dungeon. I'm glad we live in a modern house, we have noe such fearsome sights here.
Rosamond is sociable with alle, and mightilie taken with my husband, who, in his grave way, jests with her pleasantlie enough. Daisy, who seldom thinks anything worth giving an opinion on, said yestereven, when they were bantering eache other in Robin Hood's Walk, "I'm glad, Meg, she fancies your husband insteade of mine." 'Twas a foolish speech, and had better have beene left unsaid. What a pity that folks who say soe little shoulde say aught amiss. I have noe jealousy in my composition.
Father, hearing little Tom Allington hammering over ye 34th Psalm this morning, —
"Child," says he, "don't say O! as unemphaticallie as if 'twere A, E, I, or U. David is labouring to expresse a thoughte too big for utterance… 'Oh, —taste and see that the Lord is good.' Try it agayn. That's better, my little man. Yet once more."
I'm glad Rosamond is going. That tiresome saying of Daisy's rankles. A poisoned shaft will infect the soundest flesh. What a pity we ever use such. I never will.
Yes, she's gone, but Will is not happy. Oh, God, that I should ever know this feeling! We can never be sure of ourselves; we can never be sure of one another; we can never be sure of any but Thee. For Thou art love itself, without a shadowe of turning; and dost even condescend, in Thine exquisite tendernesse, to call Thyself a jealous God … for of whom are we jealous but of those whom we passionately love? And such is the love, not the sternnesse, wherewith Thou sayest unto our souls, "Thou shalt not love any God but me! thou shalt not make to thyself anie earthlie idol! for I the Lord thy God am … a jealous God," – I cannot bear a rival on my throne, which is your heart. Love me firste, him next, even as much as you love yourself; and then I will bless you both.
Fecisti nos, etc.
Sancta mater, ora pro nobis, ora, ora.
Alas! am I awake, or dreaming still? He beganne to talk indistinctlie in his sleep last night, and as I cannot beare to heare people speak when they sleep but their heart waketh, I gently shooke him, and made him turn about; but not until that he had distinctlie exclaimed, "Tu, Jesu, es justicia mea." Thereon, a suddain light broke in on me, and I felt, I know not how to expresse what sense of relief, at the apprehension that his disquietation was not for Rosamond, but on ye old count of justification by faith. Waking up, he says, – "Oh, sweet Meg, I am soe unhappy," and gives way to tears; but I try to relieve him. But the matter is too hard for me; we cannot unravel it, soe he holds his peace, and sleeps, or affects to sleep, the while I pray to every saint in ye calendar.
I am glad I did him injustice; which is a strange thing for a wife to say.
How many, many tears have I shed! Poor, imprudent Will!
To think of his escape from ye Cardinall's fangs, and yet that he will probablie repeat ye offence. This morning father and he had a long, and, I fear me, fruitless debate in the garden; on returning from which, father took me aside and sayd, —
"Meg, I have borne a long time with thine husband; I have reasoned and argued with him, and still given him my poor, fatherly counsel; but I perceive none of alle this can call him home agayn. And therefore, Meg, I will no longer dispute with him."… "Oh, father!"… "Nor yet will I give him over; but I will set another way to work, and get me to God and pray for him."
And have I not done so alreadie?
I feare me they parted unfriendlie; I hearde father say, "Thus much I have a right to bind thee to, that thou indoctrinate not her in thine own heresies. Thou