Halley's Comet, 1531

My well-beloued and trustie Frende,

I praye God sende you health and quiete of minde, as I am at this present in goode health, though not without some heauinesse, wherof I shall tell you.

I came vnto my sisters howse yesterday in the mornyng, hauing purposed to tary heere but for the daye, for she was lately (iust a moneth past) well deliuered of a fine sonne, and my mother had written that the childe was faire and lustie, and that my sister desired gretely that I shulde come and see hym. The morninge was colde and the waye full of mire by reason of the raines that had fallen the seuerall dayes before; I had noe thoughte in my hed but that I shulde be home agayne ere it be nyght. Yet I am gladde I went. For when I came into the chambre where my sister laye, she opened the clothe wherein the childe was swadled and called me neerer, and she shewed hym vnto me. He was so smalle that at the firste I scarce knewe where to looke, for his face seemed noe bigger than a hande, and his eies were shutte faste. I asked her whether he had a name, and she sayd they had not yet agreed vpon one, though my brother in lawe wolde haue hym called Thomas after his owne father. My sister laughed at this and sayd she wolde not giue hym any name that belonged to a man so longe ded.

Afterward she put the childe into mine armes. I had neuer helde a thinge so tender and frayle. He made noe crye, but opened his hande and caught one of my fingers therein, and helde it with more strengthe than I wolde haue thoughte possible. Seeinge it my sister smyled, and she sayd that he knewe me all redy, and I tolde her that if he knewe me so well after one daye, then I feared he wolde forgete me on the morrowe. At this she laughed, and for a time we spake of nothing but the childe, and of what he might become when he is growne.

That nyght, after supper, we went out of the howse, for the aire had cleared and the heauens were exceeding bryght, and it was then that we sawe the Starre. I doe not call it a starre as other starres are called, for this had a grete streame of lyght following it like vnto a horses tayle, and it stode so bryght in the skye that for a while all of vs were silent. My brother in lawe sayd that it was a Comete, and my mother, who was with vs, made the signe of the crosse and wolde not looke vpon it. She sayd that such thinges had neuer bene sene withoute some grete trouble followinge after, and that the Lorde sent signes in the heauens when men wolde not heare signes vpon the earth. And she spake of a sudden scourge vpon the lande, or perchance the downe fall of the Kinge all redy beset on all sides, and prayed God it wolde portende no evill tydings to the howshold. But my brother in lawe onely laughed at her and sayd that if God wolde sende vs heauenly signes of euery misfortune, then there wolde be little left for men to doe but stande gaping vpwarde. My sister had come vnto to the doore and was standing with the childe sleeping agaynst her breste, and she asked what it was we were lookinge at, and I pointed to the blasinge Starre with the burning tayle. And she sayd onely: It is faire.

Though we were all soone abedde and the howse sylente, yet I and the others were soone after waked by my sister, who stode at the doore with the babe helde in her armes, and tolde vs that he had begunne to burne with heate. She asked if I thoughte she shulde sende for a Phisician, and I sayd that she shulde, though I knowe not what he coud doe that a mother coud not. So she sente one of the seuantes for a man who hath some skyll in Phisick, and dwelleth not farre from the Church.

The poore babe was quiete, the whiche seemed to me the moste troublinge, for he did not crye as I thoughte a sicke childe shulde crye. He laye in his mothers bosome all thorowe the nyght and his face was redde with Feuer. The Phisician came before the cocke crowed to view the childe, and he ordered that the swadling be loosened and a clothe steeped in colde water be layne gentlie on the babes forehed and nauel to drawe forthe the inner fire, and prescrybed to my sister a rule of diet to purifye the milke, and hath counselled that she eate noe flesh, nor spices, nor drinke wine, lest she further inflame her bloode. But he sayd that the childe was yet verie yong and that we must haue patience, for God alone knoweth whether the heate will increase or passe awaye.

I was early astir, and when the mornyng was come the childe was yet warme, and my sister had taken noe reste. It was a paine to me to looke vpon her face that appeared dysfygured by anguysh. I went forthe from the howse alone to take the freshe aire, and as the mantle of nyght was being drawne backe from the easterne skye, I marked that the Comete was still there. It seemed lesse bryght then before, though whether this were because the mornyng lyght had come I coud not saye. I stode beneathe it and behelde its white tayle, and I thoughte of what my mother had sayd, and of my brother in lawe mockinge her, and of my sister sayinge it was faire.

What signe could it be? The starres are countlesse and haue noe care for vs. Yet when a man beholdeth one such as this, he can not helpe but aske why it shulde appeare at this verie houre, ouer this verie howse, on the verie nyght a childe shulde fall sicke. I knowe that if you were heere you wolde bidde me haue more reason and lesse feare, and I am sure you wolde be right. Yet I can not put it from my minde that before the strange Starre appeared in the skye the child was well, and after he was sicke. Perhap there be no more to it than that.

I went backe into the howse where my sister sat vpon the bedde and helde her deare babe close, and loked neere to weepinge. She asked if the Starre were still in the heauens, and I sayd that it was. And she said: He muste not die. I tolde her he wolde not, though I had noe reason by whiche I coud promise such a thinge, but I coud not haue sayd otherwyse.

The sunne hath now risen and the daye broken bryght and faire. The feuer hath not broken, yet nor hath it increased. I haue loked out once more but the Starre can noe longer be sene.

I will sende this letter by the bearer who departeth this afternoone, and I shall tary heere vntill I knowe whether the childe recouereth. In the meane time I will not tell you I thinke the Starre hath browght this sicknesse, nor will I saye it meaneth nothinge, for I knowe neither of a certaintie. Maye be my mother was right, or perhap we are but men and when two thinges happen together we make one the cause of the other, because we can not abyde that the worlde shulde haue noe meaninge. I praye God that my feares are misplaced, and shulde the childe be in better health before this letter reach you, then I shall laugh at mine owne foolishnesse, and blame the nyght spent waking, and blame no Starre at all.

From my sisters howse at Southwark, on this the .vj. daye of August, in the .xxiij. yere of the reigne of oure Soueraigne Lorde Kyng Henry the Eyght.

Thus I commit you to Gods keeping and protection, praying He preserue you in health.

Your assured louing Frende,

E.