“i can live
a life that tells on other lives, and makes
this world less full of evil and of pain—
a life which, like a pebble dropped at sea,
sends its wide circles to a hundred shores.”
rev. horatius bonar, d.d.
the coming hypocras interested mr tynneslowe more than its bearer. he was privately wondering, as he sat awaiting it, whether mr altham would have any in his cellar that was worth drinking, especially after that of his royal master. his next remark, however, had reference to amphillis.
“it makes little matter, good master, that i see the maid,” said he. “the lady or her waiting-damsels shall judge best of her. you and i can talk over the money matters and such. i am ill-set to judge of maids: they be kittle gear.”
“forsooth, they be so!” assented mr altham, with a sigh: for his fair and wayward alexandra had cost him no little care before that summer afternoon. “and to speak truth, master tynneslowe, i would not be sorry to put the maid forth, for she is somewhat a speckled bird in mine house, whereat the rest do peck. come within!”
the door of the little chamber opened, and amphillis appeared carrying a tray, whereon was set a leather bottle flanked by two silver cups, a silver plate containing cakes, and a little silver-gilt jar with preserved ginger. glass and china were much too rare and costly articles for a tradesman to use, but he who had not at least two or three cups and plates of silver in his closet was a very poor man. of course these, by people in mr altham’s position, were kept for best, the articles commonly used being pewter or wooden plates, and horn cups.
amphillis louted to the visitor—that is, she dropped what we call a charity school-girl’s “bob”—and the visitor rose and courtesied in reply, for the courtesy was then a gentleman’s reverence. she set down the tray, poured out wine for her uncle and his guest into the silver cups, handed the cakes and ginger, and then quietly took her departure.
“a sober maid and a seemly, in good sooth,” said mr tynneslowe, when the door was shut. “hath she her health reasonable good? she looks but white.”
“ay, good enough,” said the patty-maker, who knew that amphillis was sufficiently teased and worried by those lively young ladies, her cousins, to make any girl look pale.
“good. well, what wages should content you?”
mr altham considered that question with pursed lips and hands in his pockets.
“should you count a mark (13 shillings 4 pence) by the year too much?”
this would come to little over ten pounds a year at present value, and seems a very poor salary for a young lady; but it must be remembered that she was provided with clothing, as well as food and lodging, and that she was altogether free from many expenses which we should reckon necessaries—umbrellas and parasols, watches, desks, stamps, and stationery.
“scarce enough, rather,” was the unexpected answer. “mind you, master altham, i said a lady.”
master altham looked curious and interested. we call every woman a lady who has either money or education; but in 1372 ranks were more sharply defined. only the wives and daughters of a prince, peer, or knight were termed ladies; the wives of squires and gentlemen were gentlewomen; while below that they were simply called wives or maids, according as they were married or single.
“this lady, then, shall be—mercy on us! sure, master tynneslowe, you go not about to have the maid into the household of my lady’s grace of cambridge, or the queen’s grace herself of castile?”
the duke of lancaster having married the heiress of castile, he and his wife were commonly styled king and queen of castile.
mr tynneslowe laughed. “nay, there you fly your hawk at somewhat too high game,” said he; “nathless (nevertheless), master altham, it is a lady whom she shall serve, and a lady likewise who shall judge if she be meet for the place. but first shall she be seen of a certain gentlewoman of my lady’s household, that shall say whether she promise fair enough to have her name sent up for judgment. i reckon three nobles (one pound; present value, 6 pounds) by the year shall pay her reckoning.”
“truly, i would be glad she had so good place. and for plenishing, what must she have?”
“store sufficient of raiment is all she need have, and such jewelling as it shall please you to bestow on her. all else shall be found. the gentlewoman shall give her note of all that lacketh, if she be preferred to the place.”
“and when shall she wait on the said gentlewoman?”
“next thursday in the even, at master goldsmith’s.”
“i will send her.”
mr tynneslowe declined a second helping of hypocras, and took his leave. the patty-maker saw him to the door, and then went back into his shop.
“i have news for you, maids,” said he.
ricarda, who was arranging the fresh patties, looked up and stopped her proceedings; alexandra brought her head in from the window. amphillis only, who sat sewing in the corner, went on with her work as if the news were not likely to concern her.
“phyllis, how shouldst thou like to go forth to serve a lady?”
a bright colour flushed into the pale cheeks.
“i, uncle?” she said.
“a lady!” cried alexandra in a much shriller voice, the word which had struck her father’s ear so lightly being at once noted by her. “said you a lady, father? what lady, i pray you?”
“that cannot i say, daughter. phyllis, thou art to wait on a certain gentlewoman, at master goldsmith’s, as next thursday in the even, that shall judge if thou shouldst be meet for the place. don thee in thy best raiment, and mind thy manners.”
“may i go withal, father?” cried alexandra.
“there was nought said about thee. wouldst thou fain be put forth? i never thought of no such a thing. maybe it had been better that i had spoken for you, my maids.”
“i would not go forth to serve a city wife, or such mean gear,” said alexandra, contemptuously. “but in a lady’s household i am well assured i should become the place better than phyllis. why, she has not a word to say for herself,—a poor weak creature that should never—”
“hush, daughter! taunt not thy cousin. if she be a good maid and discreet, she shall be better than fair and foolish.”
“gramercy! cannot a maid be fair and discreet belike?”
“soothly so. ’tis pity she is not oftener.”
“but may we not go withal, father?” said ricarda.
“belike ye may, my maid. bear in mind the gentlewoman looks to see amphillis, not you, and make sure that she wist which is she. then i see not wherefore ye may not go.”
any one who had lived in mr altham’s house from that day till the thursday following would certainly have thought that alexandra, not amphillis, was the girl chosen to go. the former made far more fuss about it, and she was at the same time preparing a new mantle wherein to attend the tournament, of which amphillis was summoned to do all the plain and uninteresting parts. the result of this preoccupation would have been very stale pastry on the counter, if her father had not seen to that item for himself. ricarda was less excited and egotistical, yet she talked more than amphillis.
the thursday evening came, and the three girls, dressed in their best clothes, took their way to the dolphin. the court goldsmith was a more select individual than mr altham, and did not serve in his own shop, unless summoned to a customer of rank. the young men who were there had evidently been prepared for the girls’ coming, and showed them upstairs with a fire of jokes which alexandra answered smartly, while amphillis was silent under them.
they were ushered into the private chamber of the goldsmith’s daughter, who sat at work, and rose to receive them. she kissed them all, for kissing was then the ordinary form of greeting, and people only shook hands when they wished to be warmly demonstrative.
“is the gentlewoman here, mistress regina?”
“sit you down,” said mistress regina, calmly. “no, she is not yet come. she will not long be. which of you three is de maiden dat go shall?”
“that my cousin is,” said alexandra, making fun of the german girl’s somewhat broken english, though in truth she spoke it fairly for a foreigner. but amphillis said gently—
“that am i, mistress regina; and i take it full kindly of you, that you should suffer me to meet this gentlewoman in your chamber.”
“so!” was the answer. “you shall better serve of de three.”
alexandra had no time to deliver the rather pert reply which she was preparing, for the door opened, and the young man announced “mistress chaucer.”
had the girls known that the lady who entered was the wife of a man before whose fame that of many a crowned monarch would pale, and whose poetry should live upon men’s lips when five hundred years had fled, they would probably have looked on her with very different eyes. but they knew her only as a lady of the bedchamber, first to the deceased queen philippa, and now to the queen of castile, and therefore deserving of all possible subservience. of her husband they never thought at all. the “chiel amang ’em takin’ notes” made no impression on them: but five centuries have passed since then, and the chiel’s notes are sterling yet in england.
mistress chaucer sat down on the bench, and with quiet but rapid glances appraised the three girls. then she said to amphillis—
“is it thou whom i came to see?”
amphillis louted, and modestly assented, after which the lady took no further notice of the two who were the more anxious to attract her attention.
“and what canst thou do?” she said.
“what i am told, mistress,” said amphillis.
“ach!” murmured regina; “you den can much do.”
“ay, thou canst do much,” quietly repeated mistress chaucer. “canst dress hair?”
amphillis thought she could. she might well, for her cousins made her their maid, and were not easily pleased mistresses.
“thou canst cook, i cast no doubt, being bred at a patty-shop?”
“mistress, i have only dwelt there these six months past. my father was a poor gentleman that died when i was but a babe, and was held to demean himself by wedlock with my mother, that was sister unto mine uncle, master altham. mine uncle was so kindly as to take on him the charge of breeding me up after my father died, and he set my mother and me in a little farm that ’longeth to him in the country: and at after she departed likewise, he took me into his house. i know somewhat of cookery, an’ it like you, but not to even my good cousins here.”
“oh, phyllis is a metely fair cook, when she will give her mind thereto,” said alexandra with a patronising air, and a little toss of her head—a gesture to which that young lady was much addicted.
a very slight look of amusement passed across mistress chaucer’s face, but she did not reply to the remark.
“and thy name?” she asked, still addressing amphillis.
“amphillis neville, and your servant, mistress.”
“canst hold thy peace when required so to do?” amphillis smiled. “i would endeavour myself so to do.”
“canst be patient when provoked of other?”
“with god’s grace, mistress, i so trust.” alexandra’s face wore an expression of dismay. it had never occurred to her that silence and patience were qualities required in a bower-maiden, as the maid or companion to a lady was then called; for the maid was the companion then, and was usually much better educated than now—as education was understood at that time. in alexandra’s eyes the position was simply one which gave unbounded facilities for flirting, laughing, and giddiness in general. she began to think that amphillis was less to be envied than she had supposed.
“and thou wouldst endeavour thyself to be meek and buxom (humble and submissive) in all things to them that should be set over thee?”
“i would so, my mistress.”
“what fashions of needlework canst do?”
“mistress, i can sew, and work tapestry, and embroider somewhat if the pattern be not too busy (elaborate, difficult). i would be glad to learn the same more perfectly.”
mistress chaucer rose. “i think thou wilt serve,” said she. “but i can but report the same—the deciding lieth not with me. mistress regina, i pray you to allow of another to speak with this maid in your chamber to-morrow in the even, and this time it shall be the lady that must make choice. not she that shall be thy mistress, my maid; she dwelleth not hereaway, but far hence.”
amphillis cared very little where her future duties were to lie. she was grateful to her uncle, but she could hardly be said to love him; and her cousins had behaved to her in such a style, that the sensation called forth towards them was a long way from love. she felt alone in the world; and it did not much signify in what part of that lonely place she was set down to work. the only point about which she cared at all was, that she was rather glad to hear she was not to stay in london; for, like old earl douglas, she “would rather hear the lark sing than the mouse cheep.”
the girls louted to mistress chaucer, kissed regina, and went down into the shop, which they found filled with customers, and master herman himself waiting on them, they being of sufficient consequence for the notice of that distinguished gentleman. on the table set in the midst of the shop—which, like most tables at that day, was merely a couple of boards laid across trestles—was spread a blue cloth, whereon rested various glittering articles—a silver basin, a silver-gilt bottle, a cup of gold, and another of a fine shell set in gold, a set of silver apostle spoons, so-called because the handle of each represented one of the apostles, and another spoon of beryl ornamented with gold; but none of them seemed to suit the customers, who were looking for a suitable christening gift.
“ach! dey vill not do!” ejaculated master herman, spreading out his fat fingers and beringed thumbs. “then belike we must de jewels try. it is a young lady, de shild? gut! den look you here. here is de botoner of perry (button-hook of goldsmith’s work), and de bottons—twelf—wrought wid garters, wid lilies, wid bears, wid leetle bells, or wid a reason (motto)—you can haf what reason you like. look you here again, madam—de ouches (brooches)—an eagle of gold and enamel, saint george and de dragon, de white hart, de triangle of diamonds; look you again, de paternosters (rosaries), dey are lieblich! gold and coral, gold and pearls, gold and rubies; de rings, sapphire and ruby and diamond and smaragdus (emerald)—ach! i have it. look you here!”
and from an iron chest, locked with several keys, master herman produced something wrapped carefully in white satin, and took off the cover as if he were handling a baby.
“dere!” he cried, holding up a golden chaplet, or wreath for the head, of ruby flowers and leaves wrought in gold, a large pearl at the base of every leaf—“dere! you shall not see a better sight in all de city—ach! not in nuremburg nor cöln. dat is what you want—it is schön, schön! and dirt sheap it is—only von hundert marks. you take it?”
the lady seemed inclined to take it, but the gentleman demurred at the hundred marks—66 pounds, 13 shillings and 4 pence, which, reduced to modern value, would be nearly eleven hundred pounds; and the girls, who had lingered as long as they reasonably could in their passage through the attractive shop, were obliged to pass out while the bargain was still unconcluded.
“i’d have had that chaplet for myself, if i’d been that lady!” said alexandra as they went forward. “i’d never have cast that away for a christening gift.”
“nay, but her lord would not find the money,” answered ricarda.
“i’d have had it, some way,” said her sister. “it was fair enough for a queen. amphillis, i do marvel who is the lady thou shalt serve. there’s ever so much ado ere the matter be settled. ’tis one grander than mistress chaucer, trow, thou shalt see to-morrow even.”
“ay, so it seems,” was the quiet answer.
“nathless, i would not change with thee. i’ve no such fancy for silence and patience. good lack! but if a maid can work, and dress hair, and the like, what would they of such weary gear as that?”
“maids be not of much worth without they be discreet,” said amphillis.
“well, be as discreet as thou wilt; i’ll none of it,” was the flippant reply of her cousin.
the young ladies, however, did not neglect to accompany amphillis on her subsequent visit. regina met them at the door.
“she is great lady, dis one, i am sure,” said she. “pray you, mind your respects.”
the great lady carried on her conversation in french, which in 1372 was the usual language of the english nobles. its use was a survival from the norman conquest, but the norman-french was very far from pure, being derided by the real french, and not seldom by englishmen themselves. chaucer says of his prioress:—
“and french she spake full fair and fetously (cleverly),
after the scole of stratford-atte-bow,
for french of paris was to hire (her) unknow.”
this lady, the girls noticed, spoke the french of paris, and was rather less intelligible in consequence. she put her queries in a short, quick style, which a little disconcerted amphillis; and she had a weary, irritated manner. at last she said shortly—
“very well! consider yourself engaged. you must set out from london on lammas day (august 1st), and mistress regina here, who is accustomed to such matters, will tell you what you need take. a varlet will come to fetch you; take care you are ready. be discreet, and do not get into any foolish entanglements of any sort.”
amphillis asked only one question—would the lady be pleased to tell her the name and address of her future mistress?
“your mistress lives in derbyshire. you will hear her name on the way.”
and with a patronising nod to the girls, and another to regina, the lady left the room.
“lammas day!” cried alexandra, almost before the door was closed. “gramercy, but we can never be a-ready!”
“ach! ja, but you will if you hard work,” said regina.
“and the jousting!” said ricarda.
“what for the jousting?” asked regina. “you are not knights, dat you joust?”
“we should have seen it, though: a friend had passed his word to take us, that wist how to get us in.”
“we’ll go yet, never fear!” said her sister. “phyllis must work double.”
“den she will lose de sight,” objected regina.
“oh, she won’t go!” said alexandra, contemptuously. “much she knows about tilting!”
“what! you go, and not your cousin? i marvel if you about it know more dan she. and to see a pretty sight asks not much knowing.”
“i’m not going to slave myself, i can tell you!” replied alexandra. “phyllis must work. what else is she good for?”
regina left the question unanswered. “well, you leave phyllis wid me; i have something to say to her—to tell her what she shall take, and how she must order herself. den she come home and work her share—no more.”
the sisters saw that she meant it, and they obeyed, having no desire to make an enemy of the wealthy goldsmith’s daughter.
