For the Master's Sake: A Story of the Days of Queen Mary, Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO.

  FATHER DAN.

  "Fasting is all very well for those Who have to contend with invisible foes: But I am quite sure that it does not agree With a quiet, peaceable man like me."

  _Longfellow_.

  Fortunately for Agnes Stone, she was too low down in the world for manythings to affect her which sorely troubled the occupants of the upperstrata. Sumptuary laws were of no consequence to a woman whose bestgown was patched with pieces of different colours, and who had not ahood in her possession; taxes and subsidies, though they might pressheavily on the rich, were no concern of hers, for she did not own apenny; while no want, however complete, of letters, books, andnewspapers, distressed the mind of one who had never learned thealphabet.

  Mistress Winter dwelt in Cowbridge Street, otherwise Cow Lane; now thesite of crowded City thoroughfares, but then a quiet, pleasant, suburbanlane, the calm of which was chiefly broken by the presence, onmarket-days, of numbers of the animal whence the street took its name,caused by the close proximity of Smithfield. Green fields lay at theback of the houses, through which, on its way to the Thames, ran thelittle Fleet River, anciently known as the River of the Wells; beyond ittowered the Bishop of Ely's Palace, with its extensive walled garden,famous for strawberries; to the left was the pleasant and healthyvillage of Clerkenwell, whither the Londoners were wont to stroll onsummer evenings, to drink milk at the country inn, and gossip with eachother round the holy well. On the right hand, between Cow Lane and theThames, lay the open, airy suburbs of Fleet and Temple, and the royalPalace of Bridewell, with its grounds. In front, Hosier Lane and CockLane gave access to Smithfield, beyond which was the sumptuous but nowdissolved Priory of Saint Bartholomew, the once royal domain of LittleBritain, and the walls and gates of the great city, with the grand towerof Saint Paul's Cathedral visible in the distance, over the low roofs ofthe surrounding houses.

  The locality of Cow Lane was far from being a low neighbourhood, thoughits name was not particularly aristocratic in sound. In the old daysbefore the dissolution, which Agnes could just remember, the Prior ofSempringham had his town house in Cow Lane; and the Earl of Bath livedon the further side of the Fleet River, with Furnival's Inn beyond, theresidence of the Barons Furnival, now merged in the Earldom ofShrewsbury. Mistress Winter lived in the last house at the north end ofthe lane, next to Cow Cross, and almost in the country. There is noneed to name her neighbours, with two exceptions, since these only areconcerned in the story. But in Cow Lane every body knew every bodyelse's business; and the mistress at the Fetterlock could not put on anew ribbon without the chambermaid at the Black Lion being aware of it.Do not rush to the conclusion, gentle modern reader, that Cow Lane wasfull of inns or public-houses. Streets were not numbered in those days;and in order to effect the necessary distinction between one house andanother, every man hung out his sign, selecting a silent woman [Note 1],a blue cow, a griffin, or a rose, according as his fancy led him.Sign-painting must have been a profitable trade at that time, and a verynecessary one, when scarcely one man in twenty knew his alphabet; andthe cardinal figures were cabalistic signs to common eyes.

  The two families previously alluded to lived at the southern end of CowLane, and their respective names were Flint and Marvell. Mistress Flintwas a cheerful, good-tempered woman, with whom life went easily, and whohad a large family of sons and daughters, the youngest but one, littleWill, being a special favourite with Agnes. The Marvells were veryquiet people, who kept their opinions and feelings to themselves; thoughtheir son Christie, a mischievous lad of some twelve years, was renownedin Cow Lane for the exact opposite.

  The day was drawing towards evening, when Agnes, as she turned roundfrom emptying a pail of dirty water into the common sewer of Cow Lane,detected the burly figure of Father Dan, the Cordelier Friar, who wasMistress Winter's family confessor, coming up from Seacoal Lane. Notwithout some fears of his errand, she waited till he came near, and thenhumbly louted--the ancient English reverence, now conventionallysupposed to be restricted to charity children.

  "Christ save all here!" said the priest, holding up three fingers in thestyle of benediction peculiar to his Order.

  Taking no further notice of Agnes, he marched within, to be cordiallywelcomed, and his blessing begged, by Mistress Winter and Dorothy; forJoan was gone to see the bear-baiting in Southwark.

  Father Dan was a priest of the popular type--florid, fat, and jovial.His penances were light and easy to those who had it in their power toask him to dinner, or to make gifts to his Order. It might be that theywere all the harder to those from whom such favours were not expected.

  The Cordelier took his seat at the supper-table just laid by Dorothy,this being an easy and dainty style of work in which that young ladycondescended to employ her delicate hands. Mistress Winter was busilyoccupied with a skillet containing some savoury compound, and theFriar's eyes twinkled with expectant gastronomic delight as he watchedthe proceedings of his hostess. Supper being at last ready, the threeprepared to do justice to it, while Agnes waited upon them. A goldenflood of buttered eggs was poured upon the dish in front of the Friar, acherry pie stood before Dorothy, while Mistress Winter, her sleevesrolled up, and her widow's barb [Note 2] laid aside because of the heat,was energetically attacking some ribs of beef.

  "Had Joan no purpose to be back for supper, Doll?" demanded her mother.

  "Nay," said Dorothy; "Mall Whitelock bade her to supper in Long Lane. Iheard them discoursing of the same."

  "And what news abroad, Father?" asked Mistress Winter. "Pray you, giveme leave to help you to another shive of the beef. Agnes, thou lither[wicked] jade, whither hast set the mustard?"

  Father Dan's news was of a minute type. He was no intellectualphilosopher, no profound conspirator; he was indeed slightly interestedin the advancement of the Church, and much more deeply so in that of hisown particular Order; but beyond this, his mind was one of those whichdwell rather on the game season than the government of the country, andwas likely to feel more pleasure in an enormous gooseberry, or a calfwith two heads, than in the outbreak of a European war, or the discoveryof an unknown continent. The great subject in his mind at the momentwas starch. Somebody--Father Dan regretted that he was not able to namehim--had discovered the means of manufacturing a precious liquid, whichwould impart various colours, and indescribable powers of standingalone, to any texture of linen, lawn, or lace.

  "Good heart! what labour it shall save!" cried lazy Dorothy--who didassist in the more delicate parts of the household washing, but shirkedas much of it as she could.

  "Ay, and set you off, belike, Mistress Doll," added the complimentaryFriar. "As for us, poor followers of Saint Francis, no linen allowethus our Rule, so that little of the new matter is like to come our way.They of Saint Dominic shall cheapen well the same [buy plenty of it], Ireckon," he added, with a contemptuous curl of his lip, intended for therival Order.

  "But lo' you, there is another wonder abroad, as I do hear tell,"remarked Mistress Winter, "and 'tis certain matter the which, beingtaken--Agnes, thou dolt! what hast done wi' the salad?--being takenhendily [gently, delicately] off the top of ale when 'tis a-making,shall raise bread all-to [almost] as well as sour dough. I know notwhat folk call it.--Thou idle, gaping dizzard [fool]! and I have to askthee yet again what is come of aught, it shall be with mine hand aboutthine ears! Find a spoon this minute!"

  "Ha!" said Father Dan, helping himself to sack [Note 3], which had beenbrought out specially to do him honour. "_Yeast_ is it I have heard thesame called. 'Tis said the bread is better tasted therewith, ratherthan sour dough."

  "Pray you, good Father, to eat of this salad," entreated his hostess."I had it of one of my Lord of Ely his gardeners; and there is thereinthe new endive, and the Italian parsley, that be no common matter."

  That the Cordelier was by no means indifferent to the good things ofthis life might be seen in his face, as he drew the wooden salad bowl alittle nearer.

  "H
ave you beheld the strange bird that Mistress Flint hath had sent toher over seas?" inquired he. "I do hear that great lords and ladieshave kept such like these fifty years or so; but never saw I one thereofaforetime. 'Tis bright yellow of plumage, and singeth all one as alark: they do call his name canary."

  "Nay, forsooth, I never see aught that should do me a pleasure!" saidMistress Winter crustily. "Gossip Flint might have told me so much.--Take that, thou lither hussy! I'll learn thee to let fall the knives!"

  And on the ear of the unfortunate Agnes, as she was stooping to recoverthe dropped knife, came Mistress Winter's hand, with sufficientheaviness to make her grow white and totter ere she could recover herbalance.

  Father Dan took no notice. He could not have afforded to quarrel withMistress Winter, especially now when priests of the old style were at adiscount; and in his eyes such creatures as Agnes were made to be beatenand abused. He merely saw in his hostess a notable housewife, and inAgnes a kind of animated machine, with just soul enough to be kept tothe duty of confession, and require a careless absolution, three timesin the year. Such people had no business, in Father Dan's eyes, to havethoughts or feelings of any sort. They were sent into the world to mopand cook and serve their betters. Of course, when the animated machinesdid take to thinking for themselves, and to showing that they had doneso, the Cordelier regarded it as most awkward and inconvenient--a pieceof insubordinate presumption that must be stamped out at once, and notsuffered to infect others.

  After further conversation in the same style, being unable to go oneating and drinking for ever, Father Dan rose to depart. It was notconfession-time, and on all other occasions Father Dan's pastoral visitscame very much under the head of revelling. There was not a syllable ofreligious conversation; that was considered peculiar to theconfessional.

  Mistress Winter and Dorothy, after a little needlework and some morescolding of Agnes, tramped upstairs to bed; and Joan, coming in half anhour later, excessively cross after her day's pleasuring, followed theexample. Having put away the supper things, and laid every thing inreadiness for the morrow's work. Agnes stood for a moment before shetoo lay down on her hard pallet in the one chamber above that served allfour as bedroom. Through the uncurtained window high up in the room theJune stars looked down upon her. She had no notion of prayer, excepttelling beads to Latin Paters and Aves; but the instinct of the awakenedspirit rose in something like it.

  "God, Thou lovest me!" she said in her heart. He was there, somewherebeyond those stars. He would know what she was thinking. "I know butlittle of Thee; I desire to know more. Thou, who lovest me, tell someone to teach me!"

  It would have astonished her to be told that such unuttered longings forthe knowledge of God could be of the nature of prayer. Brought up inintense formalism, it never occurred to her that it was possible to praywithout an image, a crucifix, or a pair of beads. She crept to her poorstraw pallet, and lay down. But the latest thought in her heart, ereshe dropped asleep, was, "God loves me; God will take care of me, andteach me." She would have been startled to hear that this was faith.Faith, to her, meant relying on the priest, and obeying the Church. Butwas there no whisper--unheard even by herself--

  "O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt?"

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  Note 1. This, I am sorry to say, was a lady without a head. Itprobably indicated the residence of an old bachelor.

  Note 2. The barb was a plaiting of white linen, which was fastened atthe chin, and entirely covered the neck.

  Note 3. Sack appears to have been a general name for white wine,especially the sweeter kinds.