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Authors: Phyllis Bentley
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never meant to be a scholar. Mr. Wilcocke, he said, had told Mr. Ferrand a long time past that his son had no aptitude for learning, and he had then given up the notion of sending him to Oxford. Then why, I objected, had Francis continued so long with Will?
âTo see you, Pen; why else?â said my little brother impatiently.
I could not deny this, nor deny altogether that it was sweet to me, but I was not quite pleased by the stratagem, for anything covert was abhorrent to me, and I was sorry that Francis should not go to Oxford. For what David said of this proved true enough, and Francis stayed on at home, growing from a lad into a young man, living what seemed to me a very idle life, riding about the country and professing to take care of his fatherâs lands. His time being his own, he came much to our house, and would sit of an evening there and entertain my father, whose eyes worsened, with gossiping stories or playing on his lute. At these times I sat quiet and silent in the shadow, plying my needle; though indeed whenever I heard Francisâs step my heart leaped, and at his voice my fingers trembled. Francis for his part gave me many fiery expressive glances, and many merry teasing smiles. He delighted to play love ballads to me on his lute, and sing them, and I delighted to listen. Davidtoo was fond of music, so I often begged my love to play; it was so sweet to have Francis, and my father, and David, the three I loved best in the world, round our hearth, all peaceful and at ease, with no dissension but only friendliness between them.
2
THE RIFT WIDENS
For Mr. Ferrand, alas, had not got his wish, that there should be no more politics; from that time the talk in Bradford was increasingly of politics and religion, and this made an increasing discomfort in our visits to Holroyd Hall.
The Kingâs necessity for money was such, that he was obliged to call a Parliament again. But like all his family he was very unlucky in his public utterances, these being based on his ideas of his own importance, not on what was right. On this occasion he chose to speak very haughtily to Parliament on its opening, in a manner forgiving them for their past conduct, when most men thought it was his conduct which needed to be forgiven. He threatened to use other methods of collecting money if Parliament did not promptly supply his needs, and then bade them not regard this as a threat, since he scorned to threaten any but his equals. The matter and the manner of these remarks being equally repugnant to free Englishmen, Parliament at once became very stiff-necked and contrary, and began a long contest with the King, as to whether they should first grant money or the King first grant redress of grievances. This contest swayed back and forth, first one side gaining an advantage, and then the other; the King continually sending messages to the Parliament to hurry with his subsidies, and the Parliament as regularly replying by long petitions on the just freedoms of Englishmen. When the King saw he would get no money without granting some redress, he at length assented to one of these petitionsâbut too late, for the Parliament, out of patience, had now begun to attack the Duke of Buckingham, as the great source ofall the countryâs evils. The King could not endure a word against his favourite, and though he had secured barely sufficient money to carry on his Court, which was very expensive, and his wars, which were very unsuccessful, he dismissed the Parliament for several months, to the great anger of many of his people.
How all this was argued and canvassed between my father and Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Ferrand, I remember sadly, as a continually rising warmth and discomfort in their discussions. Friendship was never so clear between them after the day on which my father called Mr. Ferrand an Arminian. It seemed as if by doing so he had divided Mr. Ferrand from himself by putting a different mark on him, as brands are put on
âTo see you, Pen; why else?â said my little brother impatiently.
I could not deny this, nor deny altogether that it was sweet to me, but I was not quite pleased by the stratagem, for anything covert was abhorrent to me, and I was sorry that Francis should not go to Oxford. For what David said of this proved true enough, and Francis stayed on at home, growing from a lad into a young man, living what seemed to me a very idle life, riding about the country and professing to take care of his fatherâs lands. His time being his own, he came much to our house, and would sit of an evening there and entertain my father, whose eyes worsened, with gossiping stories or playing on his lute. At these times I sat quiet and silent in the shadow, plying my needle; though indeed whenever I heard Francisâs step my heart leaped, and at his voice my fingers trembled. Francis for his part gave me many fiery expressive glances, and many merry teasing smiles. He delighted to play love ballads to me on his lute, and sing them, and I delighted to listen. Davidtoo was fond of music, so I often begged my love to play; it was so sweet to have Francis, and my father, and David, the three I loved best in the world, round our hearth, all peaceful and at ease, with no dissension but only friendliness between them.
2
THE RIFT WIDENS
For Mr. Ferrand, alas, had not got his wish, that there should be no more politics; from that time the talk in Bradford was increasingly of politics and religion, and this made an increasing discomfort in our visits to Holroyd Hall.
The Kingâs necessity for money was such, that he was obliged to call a Parliament again. But like all his family he was very unlucky in his public utterances, these being based on his ideas of his own importance, not on what was right. On this occasion he chose to speak very haughtily to Parliament on its opening, in a manner forgiving them for their past conduct, when most men thought it was his conduct which needed to be forgiven. He threatened to use other methods of collecting money if Parliament did not promptly supply his needs, and then bade them not regard this as a threat, since he scorned to threaten any but his equals. The matter and the manner of these remarks being equally repugnant to free Englishmen, Parliament at once became very stiff-necked and contrary, and began a long contest with the King, as to whether they should first grant money or the King first grant redress of grievances. This contest swayed back and forth, first one side gaining an advantage, and then the other; the King continually sending messages to the Parliament to hurry with his subsidies, and the Parliament as regularly replying by long petitions on the just freedoms of Englishmen. When the King saw he would get no money without granting some redress, he at length assented to one of these petitionsâbut too late, for the Parliament, out of patience, had now begun to attack the Duke of Buckingham, as the great source ofall the countryâs evils. The King could not endure a word against his favourite, and though he had secured barely sufficient money to carry on his Court, which was very expensive, and his wars, which were very unsuccessful, he dismissed the Parliament for several months, to the great anger of many of his people.
How all this was argued and canvassed between my father and Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Ferrand, I remember sadly, as a continually rising warmth and discomfort in their discussions. Friendship was never so clear between them after the day on which my father called Mr. Ferrand an Arminian. It seemed as if by doing so he had divided Mr. Ferrand from himself by putting a different mark on him, as brands are put on