Avice ran to the door, and opened it, to find two priests standing2 on the threshold. They entered, the foremost with a smile to the child, after which he held up his hand, saying, “Christ save all here!” Then he held out his hand, which both Agnes and her mother kissed, and sat down on one of the forms by the table. Every priest was then looked upon as a most holy person. Some of them were a long way from holiness. But there were some who really deserved the title, and few deserved it so well as Robert Copley, Bishop of Lincoln, whom, according to the fashion of that day, people called Grosteste, or Great-head.
For surnames were then only just beginning to grow, and very few people had them—I mean, very few had received any from their fathers. They had, therefore, to bear some name given to them. Sometimes a man was named from his father—he was Robert John-son, or John Wil-son. Sometimes it was from his trade; he was Robert the Smith, or John the Carter. Sometimes it was from the place where he lived; he was Robert at the Mill, or John by the Brook3. But sometimes it was from something about himself, either as concerned his person or his ways; he was Robert Red-nose, or John White-hood, or William Turn-again. This is the way in which all surnames have grown. Now, as Bishop Copley’s soul lodged4 well (as Queen Elizabeth said of Lord Bacon), in a large head and massive brow, people took to calling him Great-head or Grosteste; and it is as Bishop Grosteste, not as Bishop Copley, that he has been known down to the present day.
I have said that he was a peculiar5 man. He was much more peculiar, at the time when he lived, than he would have been if he had lived now. Saint Peter told bishops6 that they were not to be lords over God’s heritage, but to be ensamples to the flock; but when Bishop Grosteste lived, most bishops were very great lords, and very poor examples. Bishops, and clergymen too, were fond of going about in gay clothes of all colours, playing at games, and even drinking at ale-houses. Many of them were positively8 not respectable men. But Bishop Grosteste and his chaplain were dressed in plain black, and they were of the few who walk not according to the course of this world. To them, “I like” was of no moment, and “I ought” was of great importance. And what other people would say, or what other people might be going to do, was a matter of no consequence whatever.
Such men are scarce in this follow-my-leader world. If you are so fortunate as to be related to one of them, take care you make much of him, for you may go a long way before you see another. With most people “I like” comes up at the top; and “What will people say?” comes next, and often pretty near; but “What does God tell me to do?” is a long way off, and sometimes so far off that they never come to it at all!
Bishop Grosteste lived in one of the darkest days of Christianity. Thick, dense9 ignorance, of all kinds, overwhelmed the masses of the people. Books were worth their weight in gold, there were so few of them; and still worse, very few could read them. When we know that there was a law by which a man who had been sentenced to death could claim pardon if he were able to read one verse of a Psalm10, it gives us an idea how very little people can have known, and what a precious thing learning was held to be. Even the clergy7 were not much wiser than the rest, and they were generally the best educated of any. Most of them could just get through the services, not so much by reading them as by knowing what they had to say; and they often made very queer blunders between words which were nearly alike. A few, here and there, were really learned men; and Bishop Grosteste was one of them. He had learned “all that Europe could furnish,” and he knew so much that the poor ignorant people about him fancied he must have obtained his knowledge by magic. But far better than all this, Bishop Grosteste was taught of God. His soul was like a plant which grew up towards the light, and Jesus Christ was his Sun.
In this day of full, brilliant Gospel light, we can hardly imagine the state of affairs then. Perhaps one fact will help us to do it as well as many. In every house there was an image set up before which all prayers were said. Sometimes it was a crucifix, sometimes an image of the Virgin11 Mary, sometimes of some other saint—for the saints, male and female, were a great crowd. But the crucifix or the Virgin Mary were generally preferred; and why? Because the poor worshippers fancied that the crucifix had more power than the image of a saint, and that the Virgin was able to look after her own candle! A torch, or in later times a candle, was always burning in front of the image; and of course if the image could keep it alight, it was much less trouble to the worshipper!
But had they no common sense in those days? Well, really, it looks sometimes as if they had not. When men once turn aside from God’s Word, it is impossible to say to what folly12 or wickedness they will not go. “The entrance of Thy words giveth light; yea, it giveth understanding unto the simple.”
Very few bishops then living would have taken any notice of the humble13 foster-sister who lived in that tiny house, and worked: for her living—she and her daughter being both widows, and the child dependent on them. It was hard work then, as now, for such people to get along. It is often really harder for them than for the very poor.
The guests being now come, Agnes dished up the four-hours—if that can be called dishing up when there were no dishes! She lifted a great pan off the hook where it hung over the fire—for it must be remembered there were no bars, and pans had to be hung over the fire by a handle like that of a kettle—and poured out into the bowl a quantity of soup. She then served out a cake of white bread to the Bishop—a rare dainty—black bread to the chaplain and her mother, and hard oat-cake for herself and Avice. They then began to eat, after the Bishop had made the sign of the crossover the bowl, which answered to saying grace; all the spoons going into the one bowl, the Bishop being respectfully allowed to help himself first.
“And how goes it now with thee, my sister Muriel?” asked the Bishop.
The Grandmother gave a little shake of her head, though she answered cheerfully enough.
“Things go pretty well, holy Father, I thank you. Work is off and on, as it may be; but we manage to keep a roof over our heads, as you see, and we can even find a bowl of broth14 and a wheat-cake for our friends. The Lord be praised for all His mercies!”
“Well said, my sister. And what do you intend to make of your little maid here?”
“Marry, I intend to make a good worker of her,” said Agnes in her turn, “and not an idle giggling15 good-for-nought, as most of the lasses be. She shall spin, and weave, and card, and sew, and scour16, and wash, and bake, and brew17, and churn, and cook, and not let the grass grow under her feet, or else I’ll see!”
“Truly a goodly list of duties for one maid,” replied the Bishop, with a smile. “And yet, good Agnes, I am about to ask if thou canst find room for another on the top of them.”
“Verily, holy Father, I am she that should work my fingers to the bone to pleasure you,” was the hearty18 answer.
“I thank thee, good my daughter. How shouldst thou like to go to London?”
“To London, Father!” And Agnes’s eyes grew as round as shillings.
To go to London was then looked on as a very serious matter. People made their wills before they started. And to ignorant Agnes, who had never in her life been ten miles from Lincoln, it sounded almost as tremendous an idea as being asked to go to the moon.
The Bishop smiled. He had been to Paris and Lyons.
“Ay, even to London town. I do indeed mean it, my daughter. There is, methinks, a career open to thee, which most should reckon rare preferment, and good success. Ah, what is success?” he added, as if to himself. “Howbeit, thou shalt hear. The Lady Queen lacketh nurses for her children, and reckoning thou shouldst well fill such a place, I made bold to speak for thee. And she thus far granted me, that thou shouldst go up to Windsor, where the King’s children are kept, and she herself is at this present, there to talk with her, and let her see if thou art fit for the post. If on further acquaintance she be pleased with thee, then shalt thou be made nurse to one of the children; and if not, then the Lady Queen will pay thy charges home. What sayest, my daughter?—and thou also, Muriel, my sister?”
Both Muriel and Agnes felt as if their breath were taken away. As to Avice, she was listening with those large ears for which little pitchers19 are proverbial. The Bishop had spoken quietly, as if it were an every-day occurrence, of this enormous change which would affect their whole lives.
“Verily, Father, you are too good to us,” said Muriel gratefully.
“And I will try to thank you, Father,” added Agnes, “when I get back my senses, and can find out whether I am on my head or my heels.”
The Bishop and his chaplain laughed; and Agnes, recalled to her duties by seeing the soup-bowl empty, jumped up and took down the spit on which a chicken was roasting at the fire. Chickens were dear just then, and this one had cost three farthings, having been provided in honour of company. People helped themselves in those days in a very rough and simple manner. Agnes held the chicken on the spit to the Bishop, who cut from it with his own knife the part he preferred; then she served the chaplain and Muriel in the same way, and lastly cut some off for herself and Avice. Finally, when little was left beside the carcase, she opened the back door, and bestowed21 the remains22 on Manikin the turnspit dog, a little wiry, shaggy cur, which, released from his labours, had sat on the hearth23 licking his lips while the process of helping24 went on, knowing that his reward would come at last. Manikin trotted25 off into the yard with his treasure, and Agnes came back to the table and the subject.
“Truly, holy Father, I know not how to thank you. But indeed I will do my best to deserve your good word, should it please God so to order the same.”
“I doubt not thou wilt26 do well, my daughter. Bear thou in mind that Christ our Lord is thy Master, and thy service must be good enough to be laid at His feet. Then shalt thou well serve the Queen.”
Agnes was a very ignorant woman. Bishop Grosteste, being himself a wise man, could not at all realise how ignorant she was. She knew very little how to serve God, but she did really wish to do it. And that, after all, is the great thing. Those who have the will can surely, sooner or later, find out how.
When the guests were gone, Agnes threw another log of wood upon the fire, and came and stood before it. “Well, Mother, what must we do touching27 this matter? Verily I am all of a tumblement. What think you?”
“I think, my daughter,” said old Muriel calmly from the chimney-corner, “that we are not going to set forth28 for London within this next half-hour.”
“Nay, truly; yet we must think well on it.”
“We shall do well to sleep on it, and yet better to ask counsel of the Lord.”
“But we must go, Mother! It would never do to offend the holy Bishop!”
“Bishop Robert my brother is not he that should be angered because we preferred God’s counsel to his. But it may be that we shall find, after prayer and thought, that his counsel is God’s.”
It was to that conclusion they came the next day.
After the Bishop’s departure, for a long time all was bustle29 and confusion. Agnes declared that she did not know where her head was, nor sometimes whether she had any. Avice was at the height of enjoyment30. Old Muriel went quietly about her work, keeping at it, “doing the next thing,” and got through more work than either.
The Bishop did all he could to help them. He found them a tenant31 for the house, lent them money—all his money not spent on real necessaries was either lent or given to such as needed it more than he did; and at last he sent them southwards on his own horses, and in charge of three of his servants. From Lincoln to Windsor was a five days’ journey of rather long stages; and when at last they reached the royal borough32, simple—minded Agnes had begun to feel as if no further power of astonishment33 were left in her mind.
“Dear, I never thought the world was so big!” she had said before they left Grantham; and when they arrived at Aylesbury, her cry was—“Eh, what a power of folks be in this world!”
Old Muriel took her journey, as she did everything, calmly. She, like Bishop Grosteste himself, lived too much with God to be easily startled or overawed by the grandeur34 of man. Avice was in a state of excitement and delight through the whole time.
They slept at a small inn; and the next morning, one of the Bishop’s servants, who had received his orders beforehand, took up to the Castle a letter from his master, and waited to hear when it would please the Queen to see them. He came back in an hour, with the news that the Queen would receive them that afternoon.
Agnes was in a condition of restless flutter till the time came. Then they dressed themselves in their very best, and Luke, the Bishop’s servant, took them up to the Castle.
If Agnes had felt confused at the mere35 idea of her interview, she found the reality still more overwhelming than she expected. The first thing she realised was that she stood in an immense hall, surrounded by what seemed to her a crowd of very smart gentlemen. Then they were led through passages and galleries, upstairs and downstairs, till Agnes felt as though she could never hope to find her way back; and at last, in a very handsome room, where the walls were covered with painting, and the furniture upholstered in silk, they came into the midst of a second crowd of very grand ladies. By this time poor Agnes had quite lost her head; and when one of the fine ladies asked her what she wanted, she could only drop a succession of courtesies and look totally bewildered. Old Muriel managed better.
“Under your leave, Madam, we have been sent for by my Lady the Queen.”
“Oh, are you the people who come about the nurses’ place?” said the young lady, who looked good-natured enough. “Follow me, and I will lead you to the Queen’s chamber36.”
How many more chambers37 can there be? was the wonder uppermost in the mind of Agnes. But they walked through several more, each to her eyes grander than the last, painted, with stained glass windows, and silk-covered furniture. At length the young lady desired them to wait a moment where they were, while she took in their names to the Queen. She drew back a crimson38 silk curtain, and disappeared behind it; and the three—for they had never thought of leaving Avice behind—stood looking round them in admiring astonishment. They were not left to wonder long. The curtain was drawn39 back, and the voice of some unseen person bade them go forward.
They found themselves in a smaller room than the last, beautifully decorated. The walls were painted a very pale blue, and large frescoes40 ornamented41 each side of the chamber. Thick marble columns, highly polished, jutted42 out into the room, and in the recess43 between each pair was a marble bench, with cushions of crimson samite. Two walnut-wood chairs, furnished with crimson samite cushions, stood in the middle of the room. Small leaf-tables were fixed44 to the walls here and there. The floor was of waxed wood, very slippery to tread upon. At the farther side of the room two doors stood open, side by side, the one leading to a little oratory45 in the turret46, the other to a balcony which ran round the tower. In one corner a young lady sat at an embroidery47 frame, and in another a little girl of seven years old, who deeply interested Avice, was feeding her pet peacock. In one of the chairs, with some fancy work in her hand, sat a lady whose age was about twenty-eight, and whose rich dress of gold-coloured samite, and the gold and pearl fillet which bound her hair, divided Avice’s attention with the child and the peacock. Agnes was dropping flurried courtesies to everybody at once. Muriel, who seemed to have a much better notion of what she ought to do, took a step forward, and knelt before the lady who sat in the chair.
“Lady,” she said, “we are the Queen’s servants.”
Queen Eleanor, for it was she, looked up on them with a smile. She was a beautiful brunette, lively and animated48 when she spoke20, but with an easy-going, lazy expression when she did not. It struck Avice, who had eyes for everything, and was making good use of them, that her Majesty49 might have brushed her rich dark hair a little smoother, and have fastened her diamond brooch less unevenly50 than she had done.
It was the pleasanter side of Queen Eleanor which was being shown to them. She could be very pleasant when she was pleased, and very kind and affable when she liked people. But she could be very harsh and tyrannical to those whom she did not like; and she was one of those many people with whom out of sight is out of mind. Let her see a suffering child, and she would be sorry and anxious to help; but a thousand suffering people whom she did not see, even if something which she did had made them suffer, were nothing at all to her.
The Queen liked her visitors. She thought old Muriel looked reliable; she was amused with the bewildered reverence51 of Agnes; and as to Avice, a child more or less in Windsor Castle mattered very little. She would do to feed the peacock when Princess Margaret did not choose to attend to it. So the bargain was soon struck; and almost before she had discovered what was going to happen to her, Agnes found herself the day-nurse of the Lord Richard, the little Prince who was then in the cradle. Muriel was made mistress of the nurses; and even little Avice received a formal appointment as waiting-damsel on the Princess Margaret, the little girl who was feeding the peacock. They were then dismissed from the royal presence.
“Thou hadst better go with them, Margaret Bysset,” said the Queen, with a rather amused smile, to the young lady who had brought them in; “otherwise they may wander about all day.”
Guided by Margaret Bysset, they retraced52 their steps through the suite53 of rooms, down winding54 stairs, and across the hall, to the great door which led into the courtyard of the Castle.
“Can you find your way now?” asked the young lady.
“Nay, we can but try!” said Agnes. “Pray you, my mistress, how many chambers be there in this Castle?”
“Truly, I have not counted them,” was the laughing answer.
“That will you soon enough. Look, here cometh your serving-man. Give you good morrow!”
A few days saw them safely housed in the Castle, where two of them were to dwell for ten years before they returned to their own home at Lincoln. But old Muriel was never to return. She lived through half that time, just long enough to hear of the death of Bishop Grosteste, who passed away on the ninth of October 1253. He literally56 died weeping for the sins of his age.
“Christ came into the world to save souls,” were the words uttered with his last breath. “He who takes pains to ruin them, shall he not be called Antichrist? God built the universe in six days; but it took Him thirty years to redeem57 fallen man. The Church can never be delivered but by the sword from the Egyptian bondage58 in which the Popes hold her.”
The good old Bishop could say no more. His voice broke down in tears; and with one great sob59 for England he yielded up his soul.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
lodged
|
|
| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
bishops
|
|
| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
clergy
|
|
| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
psalm
|
|
| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
broth
|
|
| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
giggling
|
|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
scour
|
|
| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
brew
|
|
| v.酿造，调制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
pitchers
|
|
| 大水罐( pitcher的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
wilt
|
|
| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
borough
|
|
| n.享有自治权的市镇；(英)自治市镇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
grandeur
|
|
| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
frescoes
|
|
| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
ornamented
|
|
| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
jutted
|
|
| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
oratory
|
|
| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
turret
|
|
| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
unevenly
|
|
| adv.不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
retraced
|
|
| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
suite
|
|
| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
literally
|
|
| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
redeem
|
|
| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
bondage
|
|
| n.奴役，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |