stormwhich convulsed my soul. I soon discerned his hand in this greattrial--his will above all human will; and while writhing under aFather's merciful scourge, I could yet bless him who held it I prayyou, Constance, how should a woman have endured so great an anguishwhich had not been helped by him? Methinks what must have sustained mewas that before-mentioned gentleman's report of my dear lord's greatpiety and virtue, which made me ashamed of not striving to resemblehim in howsoever small a degree. Oh, what a work God wrought in thatchosen soul! What meekness, what humility, what nobleness of heart! Hegrew so faint and weak by degrees that he was not able to leave hisbed. His physicians coming to visit him some days before his death, hedesired them not to trouble themselves now any more, his casebeing beyond their skill. They thereupon departing, Sir MichaelBlount, then lieutenant of the Tower, who had been ever very hard andharsh unto him, took occasion to come and visit him, and, kneelingdown by his bedside, in humble manner desired my dear Phil to forgivehim. Whereto mine own beloved husband answered in this manner, 'Do youask forgiveness, Mr. Lieutenant? Why, then, I forgive you in the samesort as I desire myself to be forgiven at the hands of God;' and thenkissed his hand, and offered it in most kind and charitable manner tohim, and holding his fast in his own said, 'I pray you also to forgiveme whatever I have said or done in anything offensive to you,' and hemelting into tears and answering 'that he forgave him with all hisheart;' my lord raised himself a little upon his pillow, and made abrief, grave speech unto the lieutenant in this manner: 'Mr.Lieutenant, you have showed both me and my men very hard measure.''Wherein, my lord?' quoth he. 'Nay,' said my lord, 'I will not make arecapitulation of anything, for it is all freely forgiven. Only I amto say unto you a few words of my last will, which being observed,may, by the grace of God, turn much to your benefit and reputation. Ispeak not for myself; for God of his goodness hath taken order that Ishall be delivered very shortly out of your charge; only for others Ispeak who may be committed to this place. You must think, Mr.Lieutenant, that when a prisoner comes hither to the Tower that hebringeth sorrow with him. Oh, then do not add affliction toaffliction; there is no man whatsoever that thinketh himself to standsurest but may fall. It is a very inhuman part to tread on him whommisfortune hath cast down. The man that is void of mercy God hath ingreat detestation. Your commission is only to keep in safety, not tokill with severity. Remember, good Mr. Lieutenant, that God who withhis finger turneth the unstable wheel of this variable world, can inthe revolution of a few days bring you to be a prisoner also, and tobe kept in the same place where now you keep others. There is nocalamity that men are subject unto but you may also taste as well asany other man. Farewell, Mr. Lieutenant; for the time of my shortabode come to me whenever you please, and you shall be heartilywelcome as my friend.' My dear lord, when he uttered these words,should seem to have had some kind of prophetic foresight touching thispoor man's fate; for I have just heard this day, seven weeks onlyafter my husband's death, that Sir Michael Blount hath fallen intogreat disgrace, lost his office, and is indeed committed closeprisoner in that same Tower where he so long kept others.
"And now my faltering pen must needs transcribe the last letter Ireceived from my beloved husband, for your heart, dear friend, is onewith mine. You have known its sufferings through the many years evilinfluences robbed it of that love which, for brief intervals ofhappiness afterward and this long separation since, hath, by itssteady and constant return, made so rich amends for the past. In thesefinal words you shall find proofs of his excellent humility andnotable affection for my unworthy self, which I doubt not, my dearinstance, shall draw water from your eyes. Mine yield no moisture now.Methinks these last griefs have exhausted in them the fountain oftears.
"'Mine own good wife, I must now in this world take my last farewellof you; and as I know no person living whom I have so much offended asyourself, so do I account this opportunity of asking your forgivenessas a singular benefit of Almighty God. And I most humbly and heartilybeseech you, even for his sake and of your charity, to forgive me allwhereinsoever I have offended you; and the assurance I have of thisyour forgiveness is my greatest contentment at this present, andwill be a greater, I doubt not, when my soul is ready to depart out ofmy body. I call God to witness it is no small grief unto me that Icannot make you recompense in this world for the wrongs I have doneyou. Affliction gives understanding. God, who knows my heart, and hasseen my true sorrow in that behalf, has, I hope, of his infinitemercy, remitted all, I doubt not, as you have done in your singularcharity, to mine infinite comfort.
"Now what remaineth but in a few brief sentences to relate how thisloved husband spent his last hours, and the manner of his death? Thosewere for the most part spent in prayer; sometimes saying his beads,sometimes such psalms and prayers as he knew by heart. Seeing hisservants (one of which hath been the narrator to me of these his finalmoments) stand by his bedside in the morning weeping in a mournfulmanner, he asked them 'what o'clock it was? they answering that it waseight or thereabout, 'Why, then,' said he, 'I have almost run out mycourse, and come to the end of this miserable mortal life,' desiringthem not to weep for him, since he did not doubt, by the grace of God,but all would go well with him; which being said he returned to hisprayers upon his beads again, though then with a very slow, hollow,and fainting voice; and so continued as long as he was able to draw somuch breath as was sufficient to sound out the names of Jesus andMary, which were the last words he was ever heard to speak. The lastminute of his last hour being come, lying on his back, his eyes firmlyfixed toward heaven, his long, lean, consumed arms out of the bed, hishands upon his breast, laid in cross one upon the other, about twelveo'clock at noon, in a most sweet manner, without any sign of grief orgroan, only turning his head a little aside as one falling into apleasing sleep, he surrendered his soul into the hands of God who tohis own glory had created it. And she who writeth this letter, she wholoved him since her most early years--who when he was estranged fromher waited his return--who gloried in his virtues, doated on hisperfections, endured his afflictions, and now lamenteth his death,hath nothing left but to live a widow; indeed with no other glory thanthat which she doth borrow from his merits, until such time as itshall please God to take her from this earth to a world where he hathfound, she doth humbly hope, rest unto his soul."
The Countess of Arundel is now aged. The virtues which have crownedher mature years are such, as her youth did foreshadow. My pen wouldrun on too fast if it took up that theme. This only will I add, and soconclude this too long piece of writing--she hath kept her constantresolve to live and die a widow. I have seen many times letters fromboth Protestants and Catholics which made unfeigned protestations thatthey were never so edified by any as by her. As the Holy Scriptures dosay of that noble widow Judith, "Not one spoke an ill word of her,"albeit these times are extremely malicious. For mine own part I neverread those words of Holy Writ, "Who shall find a valiant woman?" andwhat doth follow, but I must needs think of Ann Dacre, the wife ofPhilip Howard, earl of Arundel and Surrey.
After the lapse of some years, it hath been my hap to have a sight ofthis manuscript, the reading of which, even as the writing of it informer days, doth cause me to live over again my past life. This lapseof time hath added nothing notable except the dreadful death ofHubert, my dear Basil's only brother, who suffered last year for theshare he had, or leastways was judged to have, in the Gunpowder Plotand treason. Alas! he which once, to improve his fortunes, denied hisfaith, when fortune turned her back upon him grew into avirulent hatred of those in power, once his friends and tempters, andconsorted with desperate men; whether he was privy to their counsels,or only familiar with them previous to their crimes, and so fell intosuspicion of their guilt, God knoweth. It doth appear from some goodreports that he died a true penitent. There is a better hope methinksfor such as meet in this world with open shame and suffering than forsecret sinners who go to their pompous graves unchastised andunabsolved.
By his brother's death Basil recovered his lands; for his presentmajest
y hath some time since recalled the sentence of his banishment.And many of his friends have moved him to return to England; but formore reasons than one he refused so much as to think of it, and hascompounded his estate for L700, 8s. 6d.
Our children have now grown unto ripe years. Muriel (who would havebeen a nun if she had followed her godmother's example) is nowmarried, to her own liking and our no small contentment, to a verycommendable young gentleman, the son of Mr. Yates, and hath gone toreside with him at his seat in Worcestershire; and Ann, Lady Arundel'sgod-daughter, nothing will serve but to be a "holy Mary," as theFrench people do style those dames which that great and good prelate,M. de Geneve, hath assembled in a small hive at Annecy, like bees togather honey of devotion in the garden of
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