Part 11 (1/2)
Maude was silent, though she thought it strange doctrine. But Avice said in a low voice, recurring to her former subject,--”You believe, Master Calverley, that G.o.d can raise the dead; but think you that He can quicken again to life an heart that is dead, and cold, and hard as yonder stone? Is there any again rising for such?”
”Madam, if no, there had been never none for neither you nor me. We be all dead souls by nature.”
”Ay, afore baptism, so wit I; but what of mortal sin done after baptism?”
”I speak but as I am learned, Madam,” said Hugh modestly. ”I am younger even than you, methinks, and far more witless. But I have heard them say that have been deep skilled, as methinks, in the ministeries [mysteries] of G.o.d, that wherein it is said that 'He mai save withouten ende,' it scarce signifieth only afore baptism.”
”Ah!” said Maude, with a sigh, ”to do away sin done after baptism is a mighty hard and grievous matter. Good sooth, at my first communion, this last summer, so abashed [nervous] was I, and in so painful bire [confused haste], that I let drop the holy wafer upon the ground; and for all I gat it again unbroke, and licked well with my tongue the stide [spot] where it had fallen, Father Dominic [a fict.i.tious person] said I had done dreadful sin, and he caused me to crawl upon my knees all around the church, and to say an hundred Ave Marys and ten Paternosters at every altar. And in very deed I was right sorrowful for mine ill mischance; nor could I help the same, for I saw not the matter rightly.
But Father Dominic said our Lord should be right sore offenced with me, and mine only hope lay in moving the mercy of our dear worthy Lady to plead with Him. If it be not wicked to say the same,” added she timidly, ”I would G.o.d were not angered with us for such like small gear.
But I count our Lady heard me, sith Father Dominic was pleased to absolve me at last.”
”Will you give me leave to say a thing, Mistress Maude?”
”I pray you so do, Master Calverley.”
”Then if the same hap should chance unto you again, I counsel you to travail [trouble] yourself neither with Father Dominic nor our Lady, but to go straight to our Lord Himself. Maybe He were pleased to absolve you something sooner than Father Dominic. Look you, the priest died not to atone G.o.d for your sins, neither our Lady did not. And if it be, as men do say, that commonly the mother is more fond [foolishly indulgent]
unto the child than any other, by reason she hath known more travail and pain [labour] with him, then surely in like manner He that hath borne death for our sins shall be more readier to a.s.soil them than he that no did.”
These were bold words to speak in the year of grace 1385. But the Queen's squire, John Calverley, was one of those advanced Lollards of whom there were very few, and his son had learned of him. Even Wycliffe himself would scarcely have dared to venture so far as this, until the latter years of his life. It takes long to convince men that no lesser advocate is needed between them and the one Mediator with G.o.d. And where they are taught that ”Mary is the human side of Jesus,” the result generally is that they lose sight of the humanity of Jesus altogether.
It was not, therefore, unnatural that Maude's answer should have been,--”But, Master Calverley! so saying you should have no need of our Lady.” She expected Hugh to reply by an indignant denial; and it astounded her no little to hear him quietly accept the unheard-of alternative.
”Do you as you list, Mistress Maude,” he answered. ”For me, I am content with our Lord.”
”Well-a-day! methought all pity [piety] lay in wors.h.i.+p of our Lady!”
said Maude, in that peculiar constrained tone which implies that the speaker feels himself the infinitely distant superior of his antagonist.
”Mistress,” was Hugh's answer, ”I never said that I was content without our Lord. I lack an advocate, to the full as well as any; but Saint Paul saith that 'oo [one] G.o.d and a mediatour is of G.o.d and of men, a man, Christ Jesu.' And methinks he should be a sorry mediator that lacked an advocate himself.”
Avice had lifted her head, and had fixed her eyes intently on Hugh. She had said nothing more; she was learning.
”Likewise saith He,” resumed Hugh, ”that 'no man cometh to the Fadir but by me.' Again, 'no man may come to me but if the Fadir that hath sente me drawe him:' yet 'all thing that the Fadir gyueth me schal come to me.'”
Avice spoke at last.
”'All thing given' and none other? Then without we be given, we may not come. And how shall a man wit so much?”
”Methinks, Madam,” said Hugh, thoughtfully, ”that if a man be willing to come, and to give himself, he hath therein witness that he was given of the Father.”
”But to give himself wholly unto G.o.d,” added Maude, ”signifieth that he shall take no more pleasure in this life?”
”Try it,” responded Hugh, ”and see if it signifieth not rather that a man shall enter into joys he never knew aforetime. G.o.d's gifts to us prevent our gifts to Him.”
”Lady Avice! Dame Edusa hath asked twice where you be,” said Polegna, running into the hall. ”The bell shall sound in an other minute, and our Lady maketh no tarrying after dinner.”
So the trio were parted. There was no opportunity after dinner for anything beyond a farewell, and Maude, with her heart full of many thoughts, went back to her sewing in the antechamber.
About an hour after Maude had resumed her work, Constance strolled into the room in search of amus.e.m.e.nt. She looked at the crimson tunic and black velvet skirt which were in making for her own wear at the coming Easter festival; gazed out of the window for ten minutes; sat and watched Maude work for about five; and at last, a bright idea striking her, put it into action.
”Dona Juana! lacked you Maude a season?”