CHAPTER XXIV.

AFFECTIONS.

Youth has powerful struggles with itself to command its various affections in the order of wisdom. Early education, it is well known, not only from the wisest man's declaration, but from the world's constant experience, will do much in the tuition of self-governance. Men talk of tempers, passions, and affections, as if they were the predominant powers over the soul. These may be all subdued and brought into subjection by the constant exercise of prayer for grace. A man always does well to subdue his natural infirmities of temper, and to pray against their power, to control his passions, and to calm his affections. He cannot do these things without help.

Wolsey's was a wonderfully strong mind in his youth. Yet he had very violent passions, as men of great talents frequently have. He fled to Oxford for occupation; devoted himself with ardor to his classical pursuits, became bursar to his college, built the famous Magdalen Tower, and instructed the Marquis of Dorset's children, in his school and yet was not the happy man he looked to be. Though methodical in all he did, his spirit was not gifted with humility.

He was very proud of his tower, spared ne expense from the college funds, or from his own private purse, and was very angry with the president and fellows for accusing him of extravagance, when he knew that he was doing all he could for the future honor and ornament of his college. He suffered at this time a very great deal of mortification, and, in writing to his mother, confessed that he was almost tired of his college career.

Latimer wrote to him repeatedly; but, as may be supposed, this was no particular comfort to his proud but disappointed spirit. To be reminded of Freston Tower, and of the days of his youthful ambition, when he was in his lonely college-room, or walking in the gloomy cloisters, was indeed vexatious to his haughty and unsubdued soul. This, however, was nothing compared with the trial he had afterwards to endure, the very bitterest which the human heart has to suffer. It was occasioned by the following conversation:

'Let us ride to meet our uncle; he is coming to-day, according to his promise, to stay with us for two or three days,' said Lord De Freston, 'and I have no doubt we shall enjoy his conversation. He has seen the purchase of Sir Antony Wingfield's house completed for me, and when the time comes, my dear children, for your marriage, I hope you will find that house in Ipswich convenient for your abode. I cannot part with you for a greater distance, as your society is necessary to my happiness.'

'And why should you, father? Latimer and I ought to count it our peculiar privilege to be able, at any time, to promote the comfort of one who has been so kind a protector and parent to us both. But look, dear father! I can see our uncle riding along the strand, beyond the bounds of the park. There he is, with his faithful wolf-dog by his side.'

'You are right, Ellen, there is no mistaking his long gallop. The horse, dog, and master are alike eminent of their kind. Daundy is a fine specimen of an Englishman, in person and in heart. His horse is of Flanders breed, and quite what a horse should be, in bone, figure, and action. And his dog, though of the largest and roughest Irish breed, is one of the most sagacious I ever beheld. I am not surprised, remembering the attack of the mastiff, that any of his breed should be no favorite with him. He would never go out without him. There must be a patch of rushes laid for him at his master's door. This shall be my care. Come, Ellen, you and Latimer must ride to meet him.'

It was not long before horse and groom appeared at the castle gate; and Ellen and the happy Latimer cantered along that beautiful park, their steeds as happy as themselves to enjoy their pleasant freedom. As the greensward was open before them, they did not follow the stately road from the hall, but bounded along, sometimes passing under the shade of the knotted oak, whence darted the old English red deer, then the graceful tenant of the borders of the Orwell.

It was a lovely scene; youth, health, and cheerful spirits, together with that unison of mind which existed with them, made the sun shine pleasanter, the trees look more green, and the very sod over which they cantered more soft. They descended from the last long sweeping hill to the park-gates on a level with the shore, which were opened by one of the worn-out foresters, whose youthful days had been spent in the service of the grandfather of De Freston, and whose hoary head now bent in the service of the last of the De Frestons. As the old man doffed his green cap to the young people, they drew in the rein to speak to him.

'Allen! how are you to-day?' said Ellen.

'Thank you, kind mistress, all the better for the good things you sent me. My old dame is laid upon her bed, or would be here to make her duty and reverence.'

'I am glad she rests. Do not disturb her. We shall be back again, presently.'

'Blessings on you, I could stand here for your return, could I but see you all the way you go.'

'That you will do better, Allen, from your lodge-window, therefore go in.'

'A happy old man is that,' said Latimer to Ellen as they rode away from the old gothic-carved and massive gates, and turned their horses' heads to the shore. The praises of the poor are not always to be had for money. The master may bestow all his gifts to feed them, and yet not be charitable towards them. To bestow injudiciously, or indiscriminately, however bountiful the gift, will often create desires, and jealousies, which will not admit of thankfulness.'

'I agree with you; on this very ground has my father acted in all his distributions of charity. Long service and fidelity he rewards. Industry, honesty, and cleanliness, he upholds. Laziness he would suffer to starve before he would supply food for its discontent; and I can tell you, moreover, that not one single donation would he bestow upon any of the mendicant order, now travelling the country under the garb of holy vows. No, not though they repeat the "Pater Noster," "Ave Maria," or show their bare feet blistered with their self-devoted journeying.'

'I sigh to see talents prostrated to beggary and superstition as they are in our day. Religion, Ellen, is become a superstitious torment, rather than a holy comfort. Men seem to me to be under a curse rather than a blessing, and to walk trembling from fear of different fraternities, more than in the love of God. Oh! Ellen, when I see, as, alas! I too often do, men and women entering the dark cells of our monastic institutions, and with bare feet walking along the dark aisles and cloisters, and bowing at the tomb of corruption, themselves overcome by the sombre shades of the cold, silent, superstitious places in which they move, I often think how poor must be their conceptions of the God of light, if they can confine their notions of Him to the cloister!'

'But God is love, Ellen, and this love is manifested in his Son, whom He gave to death for the salvation of our souls. If men did but love one another for this great salvation, O, Ellen, we should see but little of those terrors and abuses which now threaten the world.'

Along that strand, and a very few paces from the waves of the Orwell, was seen the well-known figure of the venerable but active Edmund Daundy, a man whose name will long live in the town of Ipswich, as connected with its welfare, with the early education of the learned Wolsey, and with every charity in the town. He had an only son, who was then in Holland, perfecting the trade of the port of Ipswich, with the rich burghers of Amsterdam, and as he was amassing wealth in that country, and had formed a domestic connexion there, the father only held him to his promise, that he would not forget the place of his nativity, but would, in any case of dispute between the nations, return, and dwell at Ipswich. And he did so in after years; when the fine old man, now galloping his black horse along the strand, was gathered to his fathers.

Galloping, or rather cantering with long strides, came the long maned charger, with the grey and shaggy wolf-dog keeping pace beside him. That was a dog but seldom seen in these days, except upon the heights of Snowden, or the wild districts of the Highlands of Scotland. The old Irish elk hound is the most like him, though this has become almost extinct. Power, activity, energy, and sagacity, were the characteristics of the old English wolf-dog. Even the mastiff and the blood-hound were no match for him. He was a picture of terrific ferocity, when once he stood erect, the color and mane of the hyena upon his back, with head and tail, uplift, like the lion. His bushy rudder, however, was more like that of the Newfoundland, his head was shaped like the grey-hound, and his limbs calculated for an enduring chase.

Cæsar looked up at the comers, and for a moment paused, and stretched himself upon the sand, as the friends reined in their steeds for the cheerful greeting.

Hands and hearts were united in welcome, and Ellen remarked, 'Even Cæsar looks complaisant.'

'He loves a run, my young friends, as well as you or I, the ride. Cæsar'--and at the sound of his master's voice Cæsar's shaggy feet were on his master's stirrup, and his long head beneath his glove--'Cæsar, these are my friends. Fall back! fall back!' and the faithful dog took his place at his master's heels, as with slow paces the party proceeded towards Freston Tower.

'I am coming to the castle to-day upon very particular business, in which I suspect that you, my young friends, are both concerned. I have completed the purchase of Brook Street House, and have forwarded the title deeds by my servant, with my baggage. I hope you will both live long and happily as my neighbours.'

Let those who have ever been in similar situations, and have found a friend to take a lively interest in their happiness, suggest the reply. It would not be very studied; but rather the expressions of mutual gratitude, than which no man can hear anything more pleasant.

'I am beyond measure distressed, Latimer,' said Daundy, 'at the abrupt departure of Thomas Wolsey. Never found I such a transformation of character in any man as in him. Dame Joan tells me, life and animation were completely gone, as far as regarded his spirit; that he was more like a being entranced than the lively boy of former days. Was he ever subject to depression?'

'I have known it occasionally so at Oxford: but I attributed it to over-anxiety in his studies, and the deep interest he took in University proceedings, more than any constitutional affection. I have ever found at such times, that my friendly chat of Ipswich, and his friends, had the effect of raising his spirit.'

'These things seem now to have lost their charm, replied Ellen. 'I fear we shall have but little influence over him, as he has rejected us all for Goldwell, and the cloister.'

'Had I not known that he had taken orders, I might have suspected that some other attraction induced him to pay such deference to the Bishop's Court. I hear that Alice De Clinton has been subdued by him.'

'Is it possible? What in Wolsey could have made Alice bend?'

'I know not, Mistress Ellen. All ladies bend to those they admire; and this dignified and cold statue may see a charm in Wolsey of the same kind as that you have seen in Latimer.'

'Oh! would it might be so; but how can that be, my dear friend, when Wolsey has received at the hands of her uncle that only barrier between their affections--ordination--and its consequent celibacy?'

'That is to me the mystery! I hear that Alice never was so enlivened by any man's society as by his. Her cousin, Archdeacon Goldwell, told me that Thomas had most wonderfully improved her disposition, and by the simple means of not appearing to know she was ever present. All courtesy he paid to the Bishop. All attention to his visitors. He shone in conversation, erudition, policy, and Church government, and bitterly noticed the innovations of the day. But he took no notice of Alice, and might be said to be as contemptuous towards all who approached her. Wolsey was quite her master, and I hear the proud damsel is sick at heart!'

Astonishment seemed the prevailing expression in the face of Ellen; who probably marvelled at Wolsey's coldness towards one who was his superior in fortune and rank.

De Freston came to meet his aged friend, and then the young people were able to converse by themselves. They came to the conclusion that Alice De Clinton had persuaded herself that Wolsey would be a bishop, perhaps a Pope: and that she might live to bask in the splendor of his greatness.

The Tower rose in grandeur amidst the trees as the party approached the park, when Lord De Freston, leaving the side of his friend, hinted to Latimer that he wished for a private word with Ellen.

The young man rode forward, and Lord De Freston took his position by his daughter's side.

'Ellen, my child, thou alone hast the power to bring this young man to his friends. I find, through the activity of your uncle, that Brook Street House is ready for your reception, and I, my child, am anxious to see thee happy. Write thou to Wolsey, tell him how glad thou wilt be to see him, and say, that as he is so dear a friend to thee and Latimer, it is my prayer to him, that he will unite you at St. Lawrence Church in the month following. I will add my petition, and my faithful servant, Arthur, shall convey to Oxford our united communication.'

The letter was written, and all parties united in the request that Lord De Freston had suggested.