Sometimes, when Darkness arrives, it casts a long shadow.
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This week, the Lord on High carried off the young Henry Stuart, Duke of Gloucester.
I only met him a few times, beginning that brilliant day when he joined our company on the Dutch waves to restore the monarchy to England. Even then, it was clear he was a gentleman of great fervour and vigour, but also intense curiosity and compassion. I consider it one of the greatest privileges of my undeserving life to have kissed his hand.
How tragic it is for a life to be cut so short – and so suddenly – especially after it had endured so much. In just a score of years, he was held captive in the former prison of his beheaded father, sent into exile, denounced by his mother for reasons of religion, and apparently almost slain in service to the Spanish.
That last story, if true, displays the excellence of his character. According to those reports, he lost his sword when the French captured Dunkirk, but held his nerve – and a pistol – to cover his fellow soldiers as they made their escape.
But now, after all that, and after being back home for little more than a quarter of a year, the small pox has finished him in mere days.
I have but seven years on him, and yet my life is nowhere near as full. Howso is it that pestilence can strike so swiftly to take what men and heartache could not?
My mind has thus been consumed this week with the fragility of life. On Wednesday, the day before the Duke’s passing (but after we knew of his sickness, of course), my brother Tom arrived with a message from our living brother John.
Instantly I was reminded of our elder brother John, my greatest childhood companion, who prepared the way for the Duke at the age of just seven. He made for me the greatest sacrifice, since I surely would not have been the son chosen to receive the investment of education had he survived, and it would be John with the fortune of working in the close circles of the King.
Living John? He is but a shaky sketch of his namesake. In need of books from me to aid his studies, he does not visit me himself, but sends our impaired brother Tom to beg for him. Why does our Lord take the best of us first?
Ah – that He truly does. I can count five deaths in my family of late, all children to my aunt Wight or my cousins Stradwick and Scott. How does one handle it?
Well, I have handled it this week with the three greatest helpers God hath given me: wife, work, and wine. Elizabeth attended the funeral of my cousin Scott’s boy while I threw myself into my employ, specifically to see to it that Mr Dalton get the papers to succeed us as tenant to Axe Yard.
Elizabeth also visited my mother on Friday, who I have mentioned had been taken very ill. My heart being too sad to let my eyes see her myself, I took the excuse of protecting our friend Luellin from himself when he began drinking at the Mitre in Wood Street.
And by that I mean, protecting the ladies he made efforts to kiss! They eschewed him, and were most grateful to me. So grateful, in fact, that I kissed them myself – very often, and with a great deal of mirth.
But come Saturday, things took a darker turn still. Dr Castle, one of my colleagues at the Privy Seal, brought my attention to errors apparently made by me which had resulted in the fees of six judges passing unpaid. This news left me much troubled – what if I am forced to pay the judges myself?
I therefore decided not to comment until I could speak with my Lord’s lawyer, Mr Moore. But then, vexed by the extent of our mourning for the Duke, our cousins, and now also potentially my purse, I felt compelled to visit my mother.
Perhaps it would please the keeper of the gates if I faced Death with courage?
As it happened, I didn’t have the chance to find out. I found my mother pretty well. Whether it is swift recovery or exaggerated reporting from my wife and father, I dare not say – but it seems our Lord hath reason to take her not just yet.
Has he a similar plan for me?
How has the royal death affected your mood?
I shall, as always, be delighted to hear from you. Please reply to this post so we can exchange our thoughts…
My purse
I am most lately 247l clear in my purse.
In return for the smiles you took from these words, please send them to a friend!
Your smiles will then be compounded twice: once for sharing joy with your friend, then again for my undying gratitude. {:-)
How has the royal death affected your mood?