CHAPTER XXXV.

THE LETTER.

Nothing but the calm wisdom of De Freston could prevent an outbreak. The people of Ipswich and its vicinity were so attached to him, that, had not Daundy been there to exercise his influence and control over his fellow-townsmen, the Cardinal's mandate would not have been carried into execution without violence.

But De Freston had discreet friends who offered to be bound with and for him, but he would hear of none so committing themselves. He was content when Wentworth consented that his son-in-law and his lovely daughter should accompany him.

She also accounted it an honor to be able to share her father's afflictions. Her principles were of that pure and holy kind, they would not shrink in the hour of trial from filial affection. She regarded the fifth commandment of God, by the grace which she received so to do, and was fully determined to suffer with her father, let the penalty be what it might.

Father and daughter were indeed Christians. They knew how to suffer for the truth's sake, as will appear by their conversation on the evening of their arrival and detention at Westminster, by order of Tonstal, Bishop of London.

Lodged in a mean apartment, ill-becoming their respectability in the eyes of men, it was for that daughter, by the power of that quiet, commanding interest which her virtuous carriage and external appearance claimed, to secure for her father better treatment than he would otherwise have received.

For herself, she would have written nothing to the great man: but when did a daughter's piety fail in behalf of a father, when innocence and a righteous cause demanded her exertion?

Where a son might have failed she succeeded, as the sequel will show, to Wolsey's honor and the development of the best feelings of his heart.

She insisted upon writing a letter to the Cardinal.

'Tell the keeper of this prison,' she said, 'that I insist upon seeing him.'

One of the creatures of Tonstal made his appearance.

'Is your master, the Bishop, to be seen?'

'My lord may be seen at proper hours, but not at this time.'

'Can you convey a letter to the Cardinal?'

'From whom?'

'From me, sir.'

'I cannot have any communication conveyed to the Cardinal from you father without the Bishop's previous knowledge. But for you, lady, as you are not in custody, I can send a messenger.'

'Can you furnish me with pen and paper?'

'They shall be at your command; but will you retire into my private apartments for such a purpose?'

'I thank you for the offer; but I will write here.'

'I fear, if you do, I shall have to send it first to the Bishop of London for his inspection, as it will be issued direct from the prisoner's presence.'

'Then will I accompany you for such a period as may be sufficient for my purpose. I will be soon with you again, dearest father.'

'For what purpose, my daughter,' added De Freston, upon whom years had begun to make their accustomed ravages, 'will you write to the great man? Let me be content without your making any humiliating concessions for me. I am old, and in a common course of nature must soon depart this life. Degrade me not, my daughter, by any compromise of your own dignity, for the ephemeral phantom of this man's dominion. We have had proof enough that he thinks nothing about us, or he would not have forgotten, for so many years, his old friends and companions in Freston Tower. Write to him not, but let all things proceed as if we were strangers to him.'

'You may safely trust your honor, my dear father, to my keeping. Fear not, for one moment, that I should write anything derogatory to the nicest sense of Christian delicacy, nor that I should court even the Cardinal's smiles at the expense of integrity. I will not compromise faith, truth, or righteousness. But human greatness, dearest father, is sometimes misrepresented, and we may have wronged him--even the friend we knew when he was young--and may have attributed false motives to those actions which regard ourselves. Wolsey may not really be insensible to the truth as we ourselves profess it, and may be ignorant of our being brought to London. I cannot think the Cardinal can so far forget us as to neglect us in our necessity.'

'Ah, my daughter, power and greatness are dangerous possessions, where the heart is hardened beyond the calls of nature, grace, or gratitude. He who could revenge an insult, after years of daily prayer himself to be forgiven, is not a likely man to liberate even an old friend if he finds him an opponent. Wolsey knows our sentiments. Did he spare Sir Amias Pawlet? No. How then can we hope for anything but justice, one-sided justice, from the Cardinal? Severity and injustice will be shown to us as heretics, and we shall be rejected, and--'

'Hold, hold, dear father; I am ready to suffer with you, upon any matter of faith and duty; but let us not condemn his greatness merely because we may appear to have been neglected by him. He must have had his great mind so fully occupied even with the King's business, that we may have been overlooked. I have still some returning regard for the friend of my youth; and, though Latimer may not forgive him, I am sure he will forgive me for saying I forgive him. Trust me, dear father, trust me! Farewell for an hour. Latimer is gone to seek a lodging, as he is not permitted to remain here. I may, however, by the indulgence of the gaoler, on account of the increasing infirmities of your years, wait upon you. I will write to the Cardinal. There can be no hurt in it.'

'Go, my child, thou art confident of the innocence of thine intentions, and of the perfect justice of thy cause. I will add no more. Go!'

She retired into the gaoler's private apartments, and wrote her letter in simple dignity of style, according to the method of the day.

'MY LORD CARDINAL,

'This comeyth unto thee by suffrance of the gaoler in Cannon Street prison, unto which place, committed by thine order through Lord Wentworth, the commissioner for the suppression of heresies and heretics, my venerable father, thy former patron, is now thy prisoner.

'I say thy prisoner, but presume it to be but nominally thine, and really the prisoner of the Bishop of London. I cannot think that thou wouldst permit an old man, and a steadfast friend of thy youth, to sleep in a dungeon, whilst thou dost occupy a palace.

'Thou knowest well the free mynde of my father, and canst best judge of his state who did ever open unto thee the store-house of his intellect, and did keep nothing from thee, which his readyne and his studye could attain.

'I pray thee, my Lord Cardinal, remember that thy greatness can never better become thee than when thou dost shield from disdain and dyscomfort those who can no longer defend themselves. The aged man, now growing infirm, but only in bodye, doth well remember thy younger days; and I, his daughter, whom thou dydst once call thy friend, am unwilling to thynke thou canst forget us.

'Tears do alter moste men, but Christian men never lose the goodness of their hearts, but the rather, as their years do increase, they themselves do grow better-hearted.

'The Lord De Freston, though grey and thyn, ys not thyn within, for he ys stout-hearted and as warm in spirit as he ever was.

'He would cheerfullie endure even the cold of a prison, not would have me wryte to thee now in any tone of complaynte; but nathlesse I do, for I do see an aged parent suffrynge for the want of better fare and lodgment; and I do not think so bad of thee as to beleeve that thou art so steeled against all righteousnesse, as to permit an ould friend to be so discomfytted.

'By thy authority, we myght procure better lodgment, if thou wouldst gyve an orderre for our permission to seek them; gyving, as we would cheerfully do, our honourable word to appear at any hour before thee, my Lord Cardinal, or thy high Commissioner touching any inquiries as to our accusation.

'My Lord will readily forgive a daughter's anxiety for one who has ever been all in all to her from her infancy, and attribute thys appeel to filial affection, as well as to a certayne sense she has of Cardinal Wolsey's greatness, that he will not deny her thys very symple requeste, to be permyttede to convey her father to some better lodgment.

'This favour granted, will give comfort to your humble servant,

'ELLEN DE FRESTON, now 'ELLEN LATYMER.'

This letter was handed to the Cardinal the last day he ever presided in Westminster Hall as Lord Chancellor.

It was the first day of Michaelmas Term, 1529, when he had put forth all his accustomed pomp to go from York Place to Westminster. It was on that very day Ellen De Freston's letter was handed to him in Court.

The Cardinal was observed to turn deadly pale, and some thought he had received a letter from Mistress Anne, conveying some more direct intimation of his downfall.

What were the depths of his real thoughts no one could tell. He wrote on a scrap of paper--'Summon Cavendish.'

To him he gave commission to go and bring to his house forthwith Lord De Freston and all his retinue; and 'let one and all,' said he, 'be well entreated.'

It was observed that Wolsey gave that day such evidences of abstraction of mind as bordered upon aberration. Men prognosticated his speedy decline, and plenty there were among the nobles who were glad to give him a kick, to let him see how truly they despised the man whom they once had feared.

When Ellen returned to her parent's prison she narrated, as nearly as she could, the words she had made use of; but the old man, Lord De Freston, shook his head, and said--

'Men forget their benefactors when ambition has brought them to the pinnacle of fame. Pride likes not to remember it had a patron. Good men only take pleasure in looking upon the past, and calling to mind the ministering kindnesses of any, rich or poor, whoever they might be, that gave them even a cup of cold water in the day of their necessity. The Cardinal has too much pride.'

'Wait, dear father, the return of the messenger. We can but then moralize upon the hardness of the human heart. Let us pray that God will not desert him, though he be so great a man. Something whispers to my heart that we have wronged him.'

O! when did female pity fail to hope the best of one for whom it has felt even the slightest regard?

Ellen had a wise heart, a kind spirit--the very soul of purity and love--which would not think evil until proof should be given of a hardened heart; and she was not deceived.