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Updated: May 6, 2025
She could envisage the past, collect it, display it in her lap without fear. "Here's my life's work, so far as it has gone. Now beat me, if you will; I'm not afraid of honest blows." She knew there would be no sham outcries from this high-looking old dame. Lady Maria Wenman was rich, imperious, whimsical, and afraid only of boredom.
Wenman, and William Strachey, and probably composed by Strachey, after speaking of the bountiful capacity of the country, the writer exclaims: "Only let me truly acknowledge there are not one hundred or two of deboisht hands, dropt forth by year after year, with penury and leysure, ill provided for before they come, and worse governed when they are here, men of such distempered bodies and infected minds, whom no examples daily before their eyes, either of goodness or punishment, can deterr from their habituall impieties, or terrifie from a shameful death, that must be the carpenters and workmen in this so glorious a building."
Who can tell, however, what relapse there may be unless he is taken in hand? "You have been his curse, but may be his Blessing. You have my prayers. "I beg my compliments to Lady Maria Wenman if she condescends to recognise the existence of Your affect. Mother, CATHERINE WELBORE PERCIVAL." "P.S. Nevile assures me that his cousin, the Bishop, would perform the rite. This would be a great thing.
I often waited on the Lord Wenman at his house, Thame Park, about two miles from Crowell, where I lived; to whose favour I held myself entitled in a twofold respect, both as my mother was nearly related to his lady, and as he had been pleased to bestow his name upon me, when he made large promises for me at the font.
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