Under Salisbury Spire in the days of George Herbert. The Recollections of Magdalene Wydville

Front matter

Salisbury Cathedral. UNDER SALISBURY SPIRE In the Days of George Herbert The Recollections "f Magdalene Wydville BY EMMA MARSHALL Author of ' In the East Country,'' ' On the Banks of tht Ouse,' 1 Under the Mendips,' etc. etc. London SEELEY AND CO., LIMITED Essex Street, Strand CONTENTS CHAl'. PAGE I. MY new home I II. my first-born 28 III. DARK DAYS IN SALISBURY 56 IV. MY YOUNG SOLDIER 92 V. A PURITAN SUITOR I I 7 VI. THE WORLD OF FASHION 1 43 VII. AT BAINTON 171 VIII. THE NEW PARSON 196 IX. DAYS OF PEACE 219 X. A GUEST UNBIDDEN 242 XI. THE DEPTH OF WOE 269 XII. THE END DRAWS ON 298 XIII. A BRIEF SEQUEL OF THE FOREGOING NARRA- TIVE, WRITTEN BY MAGDALENE WYDVILLE'S DAUGHTER ' ACQUIT thee bravely, play the man, Look not on pleasures as they come but go ; Defer not the least virtue ; life's poor span Make not an ell by trifling in thy woe. If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains, If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains.' George Herbert. The Recollections •/ Magdalene Wydville

Chapter I My New Home

' Hark, how the birds do sing, And woods do ring, All creatures have their joy, and man hath his ; Yet if we rightly measure, Man's joy and pleasure, Rather hereafter, than in present is.' George Herbert. 1613. It was in the year of grace 1613, that I, Magdalene Bennet, hastening home from early matins in the Cathedral of Salisbury, heard my father's voice calling me to stop till he had come up with me. My father was the grandnephew of the precentor of that name, whose monument always made me shudder. Why should his granduncle be represented as a mere skeleton on an altar-tomb ? For, indeed, the story of his forty days' fast is but a tradition, A and my father says that, though he believes the precentor did practise much holy abstinence, he was never reduced to the skin and bone which the figure presents to the passer-by.

CMy father was but a boy when his granduncle died, in the year of our Lord 1554, and can scarce remember him. At this time he was a physician, still practising for the good of men, but having a compet ence, which came to him through his marriage with my dear mother, Magdalene Jewell, the fees of his patients were not often asked for, or accepted when offered. My father and I always began our day with the prayers at the cathedral, — a goodly custom, which those who observe it find to their soul's benefit. On this bright April morning, the whole world was bathed in the spring sunshine, and I, like most young creatures, felt in myself the glory and the freshness of the spring time of life. ? ' Magdalene,' my father said, ' I have a message for you, which must be delivered at once. I confess that I have taken some days to make up my mind to convey it to you ; but I must delay no longer.' Then my father opened the little iron gate of our garden, and we passed in together through the low hall of the house to the garden beyond.

My father drew my hand within his arm, and said, — ' Child, Anthony Wydville of Wydville Grange asks me for your hand in marriage. He is older than you are by twenty years. There is a great gulf fixed between the young maiden of eighteen and the man of thirty-eight. Anthony Wydville is somewhat grave and sad, and he saith you would be the sunshine of his life. Much more he said, child, that I need not repeat. He will doubtless tell you himself, if you allow him to press his suit. I have delivered my message, and now I leave you to give Master Wydville his answer, and I pray to God that you may do nothing hastily, but, like Hezekiah of old, lay the matter before the Lord.' I was silent. So amazed I felt that Master Anthony Wydville could think of me as a wife. So learned and so grave as he was — I, a mere child, whose life had been passed in the shelter of my father's home.

Presently my father said, — ' Well, Magdalene, shall I leave you here to think over your answer ? ' ' If so it pleases you, dear father,' I said. ' I must think ; I must have time to think.' We were by this time standing on the banks of the little, swift-flowing river, which made its pleasant music as it rippled through the reeds and long grasses, springing, like everything around me, into new life. ' Yes, Magdalene, take time to think, and do not forget to pray, and — ' Then my father turned away, and left me. I sat down on a bench, and drew my long veil closely round my shoulders, for the air of the April morning was crisp and chill. Anthony Wydville! Was it possible that he loved me ? I had a suspicion — which was pretty nigh certainty — that young Hal Evans and Ralph Medly cott cared for me.

Certain it is, they sent me posies at Easter, and Ralph wrote some verses, which ex tolled my eyes, and likened my hair to laburnum tassels in the golden sun-rays, and much silly flattery of the same poor sort. But Master Wydville had never flattered me. He had been wont to come in from his country house, where he lived alone, and sup with us ; and I always mixed his cup of spiced wine, as I did my father's, and waited on them both, as a dutiful daughter should. But, as I now thought, I had at times seen Master Wydville's dark eyes fixed on me, and that his voice, when he addressed me, was almost as tender as my father's. He had a goodly presence, of that there could be no doubt, and his thick, flowing hair was but just touched here and there with a line of silver. His figure was tall and commanding, and there was a dignity about him which might be taken, as it often was, for pride, for he was reckoned to be somewhat reserved and haughty, living a retired life in the Grange, a mile or more from Bemerton, in the parish of Quidhampton, and two from Salisbury.

I had been to that house several times with my father, and had felt it to be a somewhat gloomy place, as if no one could ever be merry there. And I remembered how, when my father and I had a little jest with each other, according to our custom, and I laughed, Master Wydville had said, — ' An unwonted sound here, Mistress Magdalene, and a welcome one.' Many thoughts passed through my mind as I sat by the river that morning. I felt a giving up of my heart to God, and, if not in so many words, yet I do believe I trusted to my Father in Heaven to guide me aright. I can recall at this very moment, as I write, all the little sights and sounds around me as I sat there meditating on Master Wydville's message, conveyed to me by my father. A water-rat jumped out of the reedy bank, and swam across to the opposite bank.

The first white butterfly of the year flitted past me, and a thrush in the garden behind me suddenly burst into a song of thanksgiving, while the cathedral rang out the chimes of the quarters and struck twelve. I turned as if involuntarily at the sound, and there, close to me, stood Master Wydville. His plumed cap was in his hand, and his dark, plum-coloured velvet cloak thrown back over one shoulder. The brooch at the neck caught the light, and so did the silver hilt of his short sword. He advanced to my side, bowing low, and, as he took my hand, he bent a knee and kissed it gently. ; My good friend, your father, has prepared you, madam, for my coming. I come as a suitor ; do not send me empty away. I am not skilled in honied phrases ; I cannot praise you as, doubtless, all men praise you, but I love you ; and, if you favour my suit, I will, so help me God, strive to be worthy.' 'Sir,' I began, then a strange trembling seized me.

Was it always so, I thought ; do maidens, listening to the tale of love, feel awe rather than joy? He saw I was greatly moved, and, I suppose — nay, I knew — he took it for a good omen, for he seated himself by my side, and, in his grave, earnest tones, pleaded his cause, and then I promised to be his wife. Presently his manner changed, and he seemed to check the overflow of joy with which at first he had drawn me towards him, and pressed a kiss upon my lips. ' Sweet one,' he began, in a grave tone, ' there is one matter which, however much I may shrink from it, before we finally seal this compact, I ought to lay before you. Wydville was once a monastery with the lands adjacent. It was seized by his Highness the King Henry, and the monks were cast adrift in the hard world to starve or die. ' The king was pleased to look with favourable eyes on my grandfather, and made him a grant of the whole domain, neither large nor considerable, but yet a goodly inheritance for a modest esquire ; but it is right that you should know, a curse is said to descend on the children's children of those who have appropriated to themselves the lands of the Church.' ' No curse has descended on you, sir,' I said quickly. ' Sure you are blest — ' ' Blest this day in the possession of you, sweetheart ; but my father was the only survivor of five gallant sons born to his father ; and my gentle mother, after giving birth to a blind son, died ; while the only sister I had, by a second marriage, was subject to fits of evil temper, which might be called very near to madness at times.

My father died a broken-hearted man through her conduct, and, as far as I know, she is dead ; I only am left of the race of Wydville. Alone to this day, and sad ; but sad no more now that I have been so happy as to win your love and confidence. But,' he added, ' remember that I warn you now, that a curse is said to have rested on our family, by reason of the appro priation of the house and lands, whereby poor, and, as it seems in this case, devout and godly men and women were turned out from house and home, in many cases, I fear me, to perish. Will you not dread that a curse may fall on us and on any children God may, by His good pleasure, give us ? If you shrink from this thought, let me know now, and this vain dream of bliss shall pass, and I again stand a lonely man, to stand so till the end of time.' Was ever the hope of eighteen summers crushed out by a visionary evil ? 'A curse !' I exclaimed ; 'nay, and if it be so, let us turn it into a blessing.

I am not afraid.' Then, I remember I added, 'With you.' It was wonderful how, from this moment, confidence was established between me and Master Wydville. A gay acquaintance of mine, who had relations at Court, and who came of a noble house, of which she did not fail to remind me, ran in next day, and laughed at the notion of my marriage with that grave, austere man Master Wydville. ' You are a fool, Magdalene ; you are a beauty, and only want setting up in new fashions to shine as a star at Court. I vow I should be jealous if you were at Court with me. Think twice before you bury yourself in that gloomy old house. I passed it t'other day when I rode a-horseback with my brother to my Lord Pembroke's ; and says Hal, " Sure, that house is the abode of rats, not to say ghosts." Come, Magdalene, send Master Wydville to the rightabout.

Why, my brother Hal vows you are a fairy queen.' i I was well used to Mistress Elizabeth's rattle. She was the daughter of a gentleman who had a place at Court, but who had fallen into disgrace on the matter of the Earl of Essex, and lost favour with the Queen. So he retired to Salisbury, having a family connection — distant, methinks — with the Her berts, and, disgusted with the Queen's conduct anent Essex, came to bide his time till her successor came to the throne. Elizabeth's mocking tone only strengthened me in my determination, and when she pulled a long face, and talked in a nasal drawl, saying, — Master Wydville was as like as not to join with the Puritans, and shut me up from the wicked world for ever as much as the old monks had been shut up, and that she was sure I should see their ghostly figures flitting about the chambers.

I said, with as much dignity as I could command, that I was very well content, and that Master Wydville had done me great honour by asking me to be his wife. Then Mistress Elizabeth went on to speak of my gowns, and aprons, and hoods, and to ask what lace I had, for sure a young wife's gowns must be well trimmed with lace. I had my mother's, which was fine and well-preserved, and I also had a laylock taffeta, with a gold brocade petticoat, which had been worn by my mother. It was a June day, the eve of the Festival of Saint John the Baptist, that I was married to my husband, Anthony Wydville, in the cathedral. A few folks came to wish me joy, and my Lord Bishop gave me his blessing. I was tearful at the very last. When the time came for me to be lifted on the pillion on the pretty brown horse, which Anthony said had an easy step, which would suit me well.

The pillion was new, and softly cushioned, and Prince was adorned with ribbons hanging from his forehead strap, and a large posy of white roses was pinned on the saddle. As we rode away, with Matthew, the serving-man, behind, I gave a little cry, for I saw my father bow his head weeping, and turn sadly away to his desolate home. My husband bent over me and whispered, — ' I will be to thee, dear child, a father and husband in one. So may God help me.' And then my heart was comforted, and we went at a leisurely pace along the lanes, the evening air sweet with the scent of the wild roses, and reached Wydville at sunset. The old house stood out against a sky the colour of Lent lilies in the spring, and, as we crossed the moat, now grass-grown, and strewn with the daisies and buttercups, a blackbird sang an evensong of praise.

I looked back, and the spire of the cathedral seemed to point heavenward, and that inner voice we all hear at times seemed to say that the real home was above, out of sight. But I was glad I could see the church, so bound up with my young life, now passed away for ever, and I longed to lead my new life, following the commandments of God, and walk ing in the way He would choose for me. The oaken door, thickly studded with nails, stood open, and a tall woman-servant curtseyed low as Prince stopped before it. Matthew had alighted from his horse, and stood at Prince's head, while my husband took me in his arms and set me down, saying, — ' Here, good Amice, is your young mistress. Take her, and see that she has every comfort.' ' What a child ! ' Amice exclaimed. ' Sure, Master Anthony, you are bringing in one who needs to be cared for and nurtured.' Then Amice scanned me from head to foot, and said, ' But a little body, but there is spirit in it, and you'll need it — spirit and patience.' Wydville Grange. „ That home-coming with my husband is as fresh in my memory as if it had happened yesterday, and I never smell the sweet odour of rosemary and lavender, with which Amice had strewn the chambers, but I seem to see myself a young wife on the first day of my married life, running about hither and thither to explore my new home.

In bright weather Wydville Grange was not gloomy. The gloom was apparent in November days, when sunshine and flowers were gone, and cold, chill rain fell in torrents, and swelled the little river which ran away through Bemerton, and joined my own river at Salisbury — that river by whose banks I promised to be Anthony's wife. Wydville Grange was built of grey stone. It had a centre block, which was nearly filled by a large win dow, with deep mullions and lattices between, while below was a square porch, supported by stone pillars, over which no trailing, creeping plants hung, as in our porch at home. On either side of the centre block were two pro jecting wings, connected by a long, wide corridor, which led from one to the other. The bed-chambers were in these wings, and the living-rooms below.

The hall was of dark oak, with a vaulted ceiling, and the staircase, wide, with carved balusters, led to the upper chambers. There was one long, low chamber, hung with tapestry, which had a window opening on the pleasaunce in a deep recess ; and here I found signs of my husband's thought for me. There was a spinet and a lute, and a large posy in a deep mouthed jar, and a pretty table with drawers, where, he said, I could keep my trinkets and embroidery, and sit in the sunshine, and work, or play, or sing, as the mood took me. ' And where will you sit ? ' I asked. ' I frequent the room where the books are kept. Come and I will show you. It is called the muni ment chamber, and is up that short flight of stairs.' We passed through the hall again, and I tripped up the stairs, saying, — ' I see no door.' My husband touched a panel in the staircase wall, and it sprung back, displaying an inner door with carved panels.

He threw it open, and there I saw another long, low room, with ribbed oak ceiling, and the walls covered with books. Over the mantelshelf a face looked down on me, and I started, saying, — ' Who is that ? ' ' The last prior of the monastery ; he was turned out to die ; he was too old to work, and too proud to beg, and they say he died of cold and hunger.' ' Oh, how dreadful ! ' I exclaimed ; 'and it is such a dear, kind, old face.' My husband sighed. ' Yes,' he said ; ' I live in that old man's presence, and his fate lies heavy upon me.' ' But it is no fault of yours,' I said ' No ; but were it possible to make restitution, I would do it ; but this is a grave subject for my sweetheart's bridal days. Let us turn to brighter topics.' Then he showed me some quaint pictures in an old book, and one of the first versions of the great Tyndale's Testament which had been printed.

It had been rescued from the flames in St Paul's Churchyard, and was scorched and singed with the fire, while the boss of the silver clasp was melted out of shape. ' This book was rescued by a relative of my own mother's,' Anthony said, ' who was of kin to Master Danvers, of Bainton, and I hope his children may incline toj'you, my sweetheart, and make your life cheerful.' ' Are they near neighbours ? ' I asked. 'Within fifteen milesj and I have already bidden them hither to welcome my wife. Amice will prepare for them.' 'Not yet,' I said, 'not yet. I would fain be alone with you.' ' Is it indeed so, my sweet wife ? ' Anthony said, holding me in a long embrace. 'That is good news.' ' We shall learn to be happy together,' I said, ' and we will make others happy, perhaps — if we can.' ' You would make any one happy,' he said.

Then he told me, as we paced the terrace walk outside the house, how he had watched me grow up from a little child — the child of my father's old age — and how he had sometimes thought that that dear father's life could not be long, and that I should be left desolate. I caught at these words. They seemed to supply a reason for my father's willingness to part from me. ' Is he like to die ? ' I asked, clasping my hands in entreaty. ' Nay, not more like than most men at three score years and over,' was the answer. ' Nearing the allotted time of man on earth.' 'You will let me visit him often? You will let him visit us here? ' ' Yes, doubtless, as often as you please. I am no jailer.' ' No,' I exclaimed, for I feared I might have wounded his noble heart ; ' no, you are my kind lord and master, and,' I added, in a lower tone, ' my loving husband.' Ah, those dear, first days and weeks of my married life !

I need not linger over them ; nay, nor indeed over the years that followed. It seemeth to me that to most of us are given seasons of peace and plenty before the seasons of dearth and famine come. I acknowledge, with grateful thanksgiving, that I had very full measure of the first, and that, when the second came, strength and comfort came with it. The friendship with the family of Danvers began, soon after my marriage, in a manner I will soon relate. With Jane Danvers in after-times, as the wife of Master George Herbert, I was intimately associated, and to her I owe in great measure the guidance and help afforded me in times of difficulty by that saint of God — too early called to his rest, if we think only of those he left behind to mourn his loss. Poet, parson, husband, friend, where can his like be found, now that he is taken out of our sight ?

Indeed, methinks the echo of his songs will make music through coming centuries, when the Church shall place him as her sweetest and best singer of the Songs of Zion. ' My hours must not be spent in idleness,' so I said to Amice a few days after my marriage. ' Let me learn all you can teach me of the making of dishes, such as my husband loves, and do not banish me from the still-room.' Amice put her hands on her hips, a much-favoured position of hers, and laughed. ' Why, sure, you are going to be busy. I thought y7ou would only be like a bird, to sit and sing in your cage to please the master. Your little fingers don't look fit for service.' ' But try them,' I said. ' I can spin with the best, and you said my needle-craft was surprising.' ' Yes, yes ; but to mix and meddle with food is another matter.

Now, I'll wager you don't know how to pluck a fowl, or truss a fine turkey, much less make the forcing-meat for a leveret.' ' No,' I said, ' I don't know, but I can learn. I would fain make the comfitures my husband likes, and the sweet biscuits he eats with his hot wine at ni°tit. I always mixed the spiced wine for my father, but I never made sweet things, for we lived in a plain and homely fashion. Now, the daughters of Master Danvers are to visit us soon ; let me prepare all the good things for the supper.' ' And spoil 'em all. Well, I'll let you try your hand when the doctor, your father, is expected.' ' There's a good, dear Amice,' I exclaimed ; ' and suffer me to come round with you and Mat every morning, and feed the poultry, and look at the horses. Prince knows me right well already.' ' Ah, he was bought on purpose for you,' Amice said. ' What a trouble the master took to find a horse with gentle, even tread.

He took pains, I'll warrant, to get everything spick and span for you.' 'And he looks happy, Amice. Say, is he not happy ? ' Amice nodded. ' To be sure he is ; but he has had enough to make him gloomy, I can tell you. And then that fancy seized him that the house is cursed. They say the last old prior, as he crossed the threshold, raised his hands and called down God's vengeance on those who should take as a gift from his grace the King what he had robbed from the Church and from God. But what has the master to do with things that hap pened before he was born or thought of? It was a mercy to get rid of all the popish places, brimful of sin and wickedness'as many of them were.' ' Many, not all, my father says ; and it was cruel to turn out poor creatures into the cold to die of hunger, whether they were wicked or not.' ' Ah, I daresay you are right in your own eyes, Mistress Wydville, but I am right in mine.

Now, when will it please you to come into the still-room ? ' And Amice rattled a great bunch of heavy keys at her girdle, and unlocked a door where she kept her stores. I had never seen the like before ! The wants of my father and myself, and one serving-man and maid, were few ; and though now and again a neighbour in the Close would step in to sup, and my father would sup at the house of some dignitary of the cathedral — nay, with his lordship the bishop himself — we saw no company, and had lived a quiet life. Nor do I say that all these stores which Amice displayed were often in use — and, no doubt, they were more than needed — but it suited Amice to keep up what she deemed the proper maintenance of the household of an esquire and gentleman of the county, and there was no lack of bountiful provision for the serving-men and maids of the Grange.

Amice, or Mistress Withy, as she was styled in the house, turned to me, and, taking the bunch of keys from her girdle, held them towards me. ' Maybe you would like to be storekeeper yourself,' she said. ' You are a scholar, I see, for I watched you writing yester-even the letter that Mat has car ried to Salisbury. It is wonderful to be a scribe, and I am no scribe. I can read my testament — a verse l< here and a verse there — but I am not much of a reader. Still, I keep the reckoning of what is spent, and hand it to the master, and he casts his eye over it, and pays the sum, and asks no questions. I say it is good luck he has honest folk about him. But, if you choose to take the keys, take 'em, and I'll attend you to the store and still-room, and do your bidding.' ' No, no, dear Amice,' I said, for my heart told me this offer cost her something ; ' no, no ; be our good friend and housewife always, and,' I added, ' be my friend.

I never had a mother to love me or teach me ; she died when I was an infant. I shall trust to you for everything, only be patient, and teach me to be a good housewife, for my husband's sake.' This was the beginning of a friendship which never cooled. Amice's eyes filled with tears. She looked at me with a loving gaze in her honest eyes. ' I'll do my best, and may God bless you, my dear. I thought to find you a fine gentlewoman, full of your good looks and your smart gowns, and the jewels which the master has taken from the iron chest, and had cleaned and furbished for you ; but I find you a jewel in yourself, and I'll prize you, I war rant ; and, while Amice Withy lives, she'll serve you with all her heart.' Then the keys were hung again on Amice's girdle, and our compact was sealed. There was a clatter of horses' hoofs the next day in the courtyard, and the sound of grooms calling to our men to look after the tired steeds.

I was seated by my window in the deep recess which Anthony had made so bright for me, when I heard my husband's voice calling me. Then a hasty footstep, and he opened the door and said, — ' Hasten, Magdalene ; Master Danvers is arrived, with three of his daughters, to bid you welcome.' ' Do they desire to sleep here this night ? ' I asked, in some fear. ' Nay, nay ; they are on their way to my Lord Pembroke's at Wilton.' I remember that I wished I had been dressed in another fashion, and that my hair had been gathered under the pointed snood, edged with pearls, that my husband said became me so well. But there was no time to make any change, and I let my husband take my hand and lead me to the hall, where all guests are welcomed. Master Charles Danvers was at that time a very stalwart gentleman, free-spoken and jovial.