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Title: History of the Reformation in the Sixteenth Century, Volume 5

Author: J. H. Merle d'Aubigné

Translator: H. White

Release date: November 25, 2012 [eBook #41484]

Language: English

Credits: E-text prepared by Colin Bell, Julia Neufeld, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by Internet Archive (http://archive.org)


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Collins's Select Library.

HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

The Reformation in England.

by

J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNE, D.D.,
President of the Theological School of Geneva, and Vice-President of the
Societe Evangelique.

Translated by H. White,
B.A. Trinity College Cambridge, M.A. and Ph. Dr. Heidelberg.

The Translation Carefully Revised by Dr. Merle d'Aubigne.

Printed by Arrangement with Messrs. Oliver and Boyd, from the
Author's Own English Edition.

VOL. V.







Glasgow:
William Collins, Publisher & Queen's Printer.
1862.




PREFACE TO VOLUME FIFTH.


In the four previous volumes the author has described the origin and
essential development of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century on
the Continent; he has now to relate the history of the Reformation in
England.

The notes will direct the reader to the principal sources whence the
author has derived his information. Most of them are well known;
others, however, had not been previously explored, among which are the
later volumes of the State Papers published by order of Government, by
a Commission of which the illustrious Sir Robert Peel was the first
president. Three successive Home Secretaries, Sir James Graham, Sir
George Grey, and the Honourable Mr. S. H. Walpole, have presented the
author with copies of the several volumes of this great and important
collection: in some instances they were communicated to him as soon as
printed, which was the case in particular with the seventh volume, of
which he has made much use. He takes this opportunity of expressing
his sincere gratitude to these noble friends of literature.

The History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century was received
with cordiality on the Continent; but it has had a far greater number
of readers in the British dominions and in the United States. The
author looks upon the relations which this work has established
between him and many distant Christians, as a precious reward for his
labours. Will the present volume be received in those countries as
favourably as the others? A foreigner relating to the Anglo-Saxon race
the history of their Reformation is at a certain disadvantage; and
although the author would rather have referred his readers to works,
whether of old or recent date, by native writers, all of them more
competent for the task than himself, he did not think it becoming him
to shrink from the undertaking.

At no period is it possible to omit the history of the Reformation in
England from a general history of the Reformation of the Sixteenth
Century; at the present crisis it is less possible than ever.

In the first place, the English Reformation has been, and still is,
calumniated by writers of different parties, who look upon it as
nothing more than an external political transformation, and who thus
ignore its spiritual nature. History has taught the author that it was
essentially a religious transformation, and that we must seek for it
in men of faith, and not, as is usually done, solely in the caprices
of the prince, the ambition of the nobility, and the servility of the
prelates. A faithful recital of this great renovation will perhaps
show us that beyond and without the measures of Henry VIII there was
something--everything, so to speak--for therein was the essence of the
Reformation, that which makes it a divine and imperishable work.

A second motive forced the author to acknowledge the necessity of a
true History of the English Reformation. An active party in the
Episcopalian Church is reviving with zeal, perseverance, and talent,
the principles of Roman-catholicism, and striving to impose them on
the Reformed Church of England, and incessantly attacking the
foundations of evangelical Christianity. A number of young men in the
universities, seduced by that deceitful _mirage_ which some of their
teachers have placed before their eyes, are launching out into
clerical and superstitious theories, and running the risk of falling,
sooner or later, as so many have done already, into the ever-yawning
gulf of Popery. We must therefore call to mind the reforming
principles which were proclaimed from the very commencement of this
great transformation.

The new position which the Romish court is taking in England, and its
insolent aggressions, are a third consideration which seems to
demonstrate to us the present importance of this history. It is good
to call to mind that the primitive Christianity of Great Britain
perseveringly repelled the invasion of the popedom, and that after the
definitive victory of this foreign power, the noblest voices among
kings, lords, priests, and people, boldly protested against it. It is
good to show that, while the word of God recovered its inalienable
rights in Britain in the sixteenth century, the popedom, agitated by
wholly political interests, broke of itself the chain with which it
had so long bound England.--We shall see in this volume the English
government fortifying itself, for instance under Edward III, against
the invasions of Rome. It has been pretended in our days, and by
others besides ultra-montanists, that the papacy is a purely spiritual
power, and ought to be opposed by spiritual arms only. If the first
part of this argument were true, no one would be readier than
ourselves to adopt the conclusion. God forbid that any protestant
state should ever refuse the completest liberty to the Roman-catholic
doctrines. We certainly wish for reciprocity; we desire that
ultra-montanism should no longer throw into prison the humble
believers who seek consolation for themselves, and for their friends,
in Holy Scripture. But though a deplorable fanaticism should still
continue to imitate in the nineteenth century the mournful tragedies
of the Middle Ages, we should persist in demanding the fullest
liberty, not only of conscience, but of worship, for Roman-catholics
in protestant states. We should ask it in the name of justice, whose
immutable laws the injustice of our adversaries can never make us
forget; we should ask it on behalf of the final triumph of truth; for
if our demands proved unavailing, perhaps with God's help it might be
otherwise with our example. When two worlds meet face to face, in one
of which light abounds, and in the other darkness, it is the darkness
that should disappear before the light, and not the light fly from
before the darkness. We might go even farther than this: far from
constraining the English catholics in anything, we would rather desire
to help them to be freer than they are, and to aid them in recovering
the rights of which the Roman bishops robbed them in times posterior
to the establishment of the papacy; for instance, the election of
bishops and pastors, which belongs to the clergy and the people.
Indeed, Cyprian, writing to a bishop of Rome (Cornelius), demanded
three elements to secure the legitimacy of episcopal election: "The
call of God, the voice of the people, and the consent of the
co-bishops."[1] And the council of Rome, in 1080, said: "Let the
clergy and the _people_, with the consent of the apostolic see or of
their _metropolitan_, elect their bishop."[2] In our days,--days
distinguished by great liberty,--shall the church be less free than it
was in the Middle Ages?

  [1] Divinum judicium, populi suffragium, co-episcoporum consensus.
  Epist. 55.

  [2] Clerus et populus, apostolicæ sedis, vel metropolitani sui
  consensu, pastorem sibi eligat. Mansi, xx, p. 533.

But if we do not fear to claim for Roman-catholics the rights of the
church of the first ages, and a greater liberty than what they now
possess, even in the very seat of the popedom, are we therefore to
say that the state, whether under Edward III or in later times, should
oppose no barrier against Romish aggressions? If it is the very life
and soul of popery to pass beyond the boundaries of religion, and
enter into the domain of policy, why should it be thought strange for
the state to defend itself, when attacked upon its own ground? Can the
state have no need of precautions against a power which has pretended
to be paramount over England, which gave its crown to a French
monarch, which obtained an oath of vassalage from an English king, and
which lays down as its first dogma its infallibility and immutability?

And it was not only under Edward III and throughout the Middle Ages
that Rome encroached on royalty; it has happened in modern times also.
M. Mignet has recently brought to light some remarkable facts. On the
28th of June 1570, a letter from Saint Pius V was presented to the
catholic king Philip II by an agent just arrived from Rome. "Our dear
son, Robert Ridolfi," says the writer, "will explain (God willing) to
your majesty certain matters which concern not a little the honour of
Almighty God.... We conjure your majesty to take into your serious
consideration the matter which he will lay before you, and to furnish
him with all the means your majesty may judge most proper for its
execution." The pope's "dear son," accordingly, explained to the duke
of Feria, who was commissioned by Philip to receive his communication,
"that it was proposed to kill Queen Elizabeth; that the attempt would
not be made in London, because it was the seat of heresy, but during
one of her journeys; and that a certain James G---- would undertake
it." The same day the council met and deliberated on Elizabeth's
assassination. Philip declared his willingness to undertake the foul
deed recommended by his holiness; but as it would be an expensive
business, his minister hinted to the nuncio that the pope ought to
furnish the money. This horrible but instructive recital will be found
with all its details in the _Histoire de Marie Stuart_, by M. Mignet,
vol. ii, p. 159, etc. It is true that these things took place in the
sixteenth century; but the Romish church has canonized the priestly
murderer,--an honour conferred on a very small number of popes,--and
the canonization took place in the eighteenth century.[3] This is no
very distant date.

  [3] Acta canonisationis S. Pil. V. Romæ, 1720, folio.

And these theories, so calculated to trouble nations, are still to be
met with in the nineteenth century. At this very moment there are
writers asserting principles under cover of which the pope may
interfere in affairs of state. The kings of Europe, terrified by the
deplorable outbreaks of 1848, appear almost everywhere ready to
support the court of Rome by arms; and ultra-montanism is taking
advantage of this to proclaim once more, "that the popedom is above
the monarchy; that it is the duty of the inferior (the king) to obey
the superior; that it is the duty of the superior (the pope) to depose
the sovereigns who abuse their power, and to condemn the subjects who
resist it; and, finally, that this public law of Christian Europe,
abolished by the ambition of sovereigns or the insubordination of
peoples, should be revived." Such are the theories now professed not
only by priests but by influential laymen.[4] To this opinion belong,
at the present hour, all the zeal and enthusiasm of Romanism, and this
alone we are bound to acknowledge is consistent with the principles of
popery. And accordingly it is to be feared that this party will
triumph, unless we oppose it with the united forces of the human
understanding, of religious and political liberty, and above all of
the word of God. The most distinguished organ of public opinion in
France, alarmed by the progress of these ultramontane doctrines, said
not long ago of this party: "In its eyes there exists but one real
authority in the world, that of the pope. All questions, not only
religious but moral and political, are amenable to one tribunal,
supreme and infallible, the pope's. The pope has the right to absolve
subjects of their oath of fidelity; subjects have the right to take up
arms against their prince when he rebels against the decisions of the
holy see. This is the social and political theory of the Middle
Ages."[5]

  [4] See in particular _Le Catholicisme_, _le Liberalisme_, _et le
  Socialisme_, and other writings of Donoso Cortes, marquis of
  Valdegamas, one of the most distinguished members of the
  constitutional party in Spain.

  [5] Journal des Debats, 18th January 1853.

Since the popedom asserts claims both spiritual and temporal, the
church and the state ought to resist it, each in his own sphere, and
with its peculiar arms: the church (by which I mean the believers),
solely with Holy Scripture; the state with such institutions as are
calculated to secure its independence. What! the church is bound to
defend what belongs to the church, and the state is not to defend what
belongs to the state? If a band of robbers should endeavour to plunder
two houses, would it be just and charitable for one neighbour to say
to the other, "I must defend my house, but you must let yours be
stripped?" If the pope desires to have the immaculate conception of
the Virgin, or any other religious doctrine, preached, let the fullest
liberty be granted him, and let him build as many churches as he
pleases for that purpose: we claim this in the plainest language. But
if the pope, like Saint Pius, desires to kill the queen of England, or
at least (for no pope in our days, were he even Saint enough to be
canonized, would conceive such an idea), if the pope desires to
infringe in any way on the rights of the state, then let the state
resist him with tried wisdom and unshaken firmness. Let us beware of
an ultra-spiritualism which forgets the lessons of history, and
overlooks the rights of kings and peoples. When it is found among
theologians, it is an error; in statesmen, it is a danger.

Finally, and this consideration revives our hopes, there is a fourth
motive which gives at this time a particular importance to the history
we are about to relate. The Reformation is now entering upon a new
phasis. The movement of the sixteenth century had died away during the
seventeenth and eighteenth, and it was often to churches which had
lost every spark of life that the historian had then to recount the
narrative of this great revival. This is the case no longer. After
three centuries, a new and a greater movement is succeeding that which
we describe in these volumes. The principles of the religious
regeneration, which God accomplished three hundred years ago, are now
carried to the end of the world with the greatest energy. The task of
the sixteenth century lives again in the nineteenth, but more
emancipated from the temporal power, more spiritual, more general; and
it is the Anglo-Saxon race that God chiefly employs for the
accomplishment of this universal work. The English Reformation
acquires therefore, in our days, a special importance. If the
Reformation of Germany was the foundation of the building, that of
England was its crowning stone.

The work begun in the age of the apostles, and renewed in the times of
the reformers, should be resumed in our days with a holy enthusiasm;
and the work is very simple and very beautiful, for it consists in
establishing the throne of Jesus Christ in the church and on earth.

Evangelical faith does not place on the throne of the church either
human reason or religious conscientiousness, as some would have it;
but it sets thereon Jesus Christ, who is both the knowledge taught and
the doctor who teaches it; who explains his word by the word, and by
the light of his Holy Spirit; who by it bears witness to the truth,
that is to say, to his redemption, and teaches the essential laws
which should regulate the inner life of his disciples. Evangelical
faith appeals to the understanding, to the heart, and to the will of
every Christian, only to impose on them the duty to submit to the
divine authority of Christ, to listen, believe, love, comprehend, and
act, as God requires.

Evangelical faith does not place on the throne of the church the civil
power, or the secular magistrate; but it sets thereon Jesus Christ,
who has said, _I am King_; who imparts to his subjects the principle
of life; who establishes his kingdom here on earth, and preserves and
develops it; and who, directing all mortal events, is now making the
progressive conquest of the world, until he shall exercise in person
his divine authority in the kingdom of his glory.

Finally, evangelical faith does not place on the throne of the church
priests, councils, doctors, or their traditions,--or that vice-God
(_veri Dei vicem gerit in terris_, as the Romish gloss has it), that
_infallible_ pontiff, who, reviving the errors of the pagans, ascribes
salvation to the forms of worship and to the meritorious works of men.
It sets thereon Jesus Christ, the great high-priest of his people, the
God-man, who, by an act of his free love, bore in our stead, in his
atoning sacrifice, the penalty of sin;--who has taken away the curse
from our heads, and thus become the creator of a new race.

Such is the essential work of that Christianity which the apostolic
age transmitted to the reformers, and which it now transmits to the
Christians of the nineteenth century.

While the thoughts of great numbers are led astray in the midst of
ceremonies, priests, human lucubrations, pontifical fables, and
philosophic reveries, and are driven to and fro in the dust of this
world, evangelical faith rises even to heaven, and falls prostrate
before Him who sitteth on the throne.

The Reformation is Jesus Christ.

"Lord, to whom shall we go, if not unto thee?" Let others follow the
devices of their imaginations, or prostrate themselves before
traditional superstitions, or kiss the feet of a sinful man.... O,
King of glory, we desire but Thee alone!

  EAUX-VIVES, GENEVA, _March 1853_.




CONTENTS.


  BOOK XVII.

  ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION.


  CHAPTER I.

  Introduction--Work of the Sixteenth Century--Unity and Diversity--
  Necessity of considering the entire Religious History of England--
  Establishment of Christianity in Great Britain--Formation of
  Ecclesiastical Catholicism in the Roman Empire--Spiritual Christianity
  received by Britain--Slavery and Conversion of Succat--His mission to
  Ireland--Anglo-Saxons re-establish Paganism in England--Columba at
  Iona--Evangelical Teaching--Presbytery and Episcopacy in Great
  Britain--Continental Missions of the Britons--An Omission,       page 21


  CHAPTER II.

  Pope Gregory the Great--Desires to reduce Britain--Policy of Gregory
  and Augustine--Arrival of the Mission--Appreciation--Britain superior
  to Rome--Dionoth at Bangor--First and Second Romish Aggressions--Anguish
  of the Britons--Pride of Rome--Rome has recourse to the
  Sword--Massacre--Saint Peter scourges an Archbishop--Oswald--His
  Victory--Corman--Mission of Oswald and Aidan--Death of Oswald,   page 33


  CHAPTER III.

  Character of Oswy--Death of Aidan--Wilfrid at Rome--At Oswald's
  Court--Finan and Colman--Independence of the Church attacked--Oswy's
  Conquests and Troubles--_Synodus Pharensis_--Cedda--Degeneration--The
  Disputation--Peter, the Gatekeeper--Triumph of Rome--Grief of the
  Britons--Popedom organized in England--Papal Exultation--Archbishop
  Theodore--Cedda re-ordained--Discord in the Church--Disgrace and
  Treachery of Wilfrid--His end--Scotland attacked--Adamnan--Iona
  resists--A King converted by Architects--The Monk Egbert at
  Iona--His History--Monkish Visions--Fall of Iona,                page 43


  CHAPTER IV.

  Clement--Struggle between a Scotchman and an Englishman--Word
  of God only--Clement's Success--His condemnation--Virgil and the
  Antipodes--John Scotus and Philosophical Religion--Alfred and
  the Bible--Darkness and Popery--William the Conqueror--Wulston
  at Edward's Tomb--Struggle between William and Hildebrand--The
  Pope yields--Cæsaropapia,                                        page 58


  CHAPTER V.

  Anselm's Firmness--Becket's Austerity--The king scourged--John becomes
  the Pope's Vassal--Collision between Popery and Liberty--The
  Vassal King ravages his kingdom--Religion of the Senses and
  Superstition,                                                    page 66


  CHAPTER VI.

  Reaction--Grostete--Principles of Reform--Contest with the Pope--
  Sewal--Progress of the Nation--Opposition to the Papacy--Conversion
  of Bradwardine--Grace is Supreme--Edward III--Statutes of
  _Provisors_ and _Præmunire_,                                     page 72


  CHAPTER VII.

  The Mendicant Friars--Their Disorders and Popular Indignation--
  Wickliffe--His Success--Speeches of the Peers against the Papal
  Tribute--Agreement of Bruges--Courtenay and Lancaster--Wickliffe
  before the Convocation--Altercation between Lancaster and
  Courtenay--Riot--Three Briefs against Wickliffe--Wickliffe at
  Lambeth--Mission of the _Poor Priests_--Their Preachings and
  Persecutions--Wickliffe and the Four Regents,                    page 77


  CHAPTER VIII.

  The Bible--Wickliffe's Translation--Effects of its Publication--
  Opposition of the Clergy--Wickliffe's Fourth
  Phasis--Transubstantiation--Excommunication--Wickliffe's Firmness--
  Wat Tyler--The Synod--The condemned Propositions--Wickliffe's
  Petition--Wickliffe before the Primate at Oxford--Wickliffe summoned
  to Rome--His answer--The Trialogue--His Death--And Character--His
  Teaching--His Ecclesiastical Views--A Prophecy,                  page 86


  CHAPTER IX.

  The Wickliffites--Call for Reform--Richard II--The first Martyr--
  Lord Cobham--Appears before Henry V--Before the Archbishop--His
  Confession and Death--The Lollards,                              page 97


  CHAPTER X.

  Learning at Florence--The Tudors--Erasmus visits England--Sir
  Thomas More--Dean Colet--Erasmus and young Henry--Prince
  Arthur and Catherine--Marriage and Death--Catherine betrothed
  to Henry--Accession of Henry VIII--Enthusiasm of the Learned--
  Erasmus recalled to England--Cromwell before the Pope--Catherine
  proposed to Henry--Their Marriage and Court--Tournaments--Henry's
  Danger,                                                         page 106


  CHAPTER XI.

  The Pope excites to War--Colet's Sermon at St. Paul's--The Flemish
  Campaign--Marriage of Louis XII and Princess Mary--Letter from
  Anne Boleyn--Marriage of Brandon and Mary--Oxford--Sir Thomas
  More at Court--Attack upon the Monasteries--Colet's Household--He
  preaches Reform--The Greeks and Trojans,                        page 114


  CHAPTER XII.

  Wolsey--His first Commission--His complaisance and Dioceses--Cardinal,
  Chancellor, and Legate--Ostentation and Necromancy--His Spies and
  Enmity--Pretensions of the clergy,                              page 122


  CHAPTER XIII.

  The Wolves--Richard Hun--A Murder--Verdict of the Jury--Hun
  condemned, and his Character vindicated--The Gravesend Passage-boat--
  A festival disturbed--Brown tortured--Visit from his Wife--A
  Martyr--Character of Erasmus--1516 and 1517--Erasmus goes to
  Basle,                                                          page 126


  BOOK XVIII.

  THE REVIVAL OF THE CHURCH.


  CHAPTER I.

  Four reforming Powers--Which reformed England?--Papal Reform?--
  Episcopal Reform?--Royal Reform?--What is required in a legitimate
  Reform--The Share of the Kingly Power--Share of the Episcopal
  Authority--High and Low Church--Political Events--The Greek and
  Latin New Testament--Thoughts of Erasmus--Enthusiasm and anger--
  Desire of Erasmus--Clamours of the Priests--Their Attack at Court--
  Astonishment of Erasmus--His Labours for this Work--Edward
  Lee; his Character--Lee's _Tragedy_--Conspiracy,                page 134


  CHAPTER II.

  Effects of the New Testament in the Universities--Conversations--A
  Cambridge Fellow--Bilney buys the New Testament--The first Passage--
  His Conversion--Protestantism, the Fruit of the Gospel--The
  Vale of the Severn--William Tyndale--Evangelization at Oxford--
  Bilney teaches at Cambridge--Fryth--Is Conversion Possible?--True
  Consecration--The Reformation has begun,                        page 144


  CHAPTER III.

  Alarm of the Clergy--The Two Days--Thomas Man's Preaching--True
  real Presence--Persecutions at Coventry--Standish preaches at St.
  Paul's--His Petition to the King and Queen--His Arguments and
  Defeat--Wolsey's Ambition--First Overtures--Henry and Francis
  Candidates for the Empire--Conference between Francis I and Sir
  T. Boleyn--The Tiara promised to Wolsey--The cardinal's Intrigues
  with Charles and Francis,                                       page 151


  CHAPTER IV.

  Tyndale--Sodbury Hall--Sir John and Lady Walsh--Table-Talk--The
  Holy Scriptures--The Images--The Anchor of Faith--A Roman
  Camp--Preaching of Faith and Works--Tyndale accused by the
  Priests--They tear up what he has planted--Tyndale resolves to
  translate the Bible--His first triumph--The Priests in the
  taverns--Tyndale summoned before the Chancellor of Worcester--
  Consoled by an aged Doctor--Attacked by a schoolman--His Secret
  becomes known--He leaves Sodbury Hall,                          page 158


  CHAPTER V.

  Luther's Works in England--Consultation of the Bishops--The Bull of
  Leo X published in England--Luther's books burnt--Letter of
  Henry VIII--He undertakes to write against Luther--Cry of Alarm--
  Tradition and Sacramentalism--Prudence of Sir T. More--The
  Book presented to the Pope--_Defender of the Faith_--Exultation of
  the king,                                                       page 166


  CHAPTER VI.

  Wolsey's Machinations to obtain the Tiara--He gains Charles V--Alliance
  between Henry and Charles--Wolsey offers to command the Troops--Treaty
  of Bruges--Henry believes himself King of France--Victories
  of Francis I--Death of Leo X,                                   page 173


  CHAPTER VII.

  The Just Men of Lincolnshire--Their Assemblies and Teaching--Agnes
  and Morden--Itinerant Libraries--Polemical Conversations--Sarcasm--
  Royal Decree and Terror--Depositions and Condemnations--Four
  Martyrs--A Conclave--Charles consoles Wolsey,                   page 177


  CHAPTER VIII.

  Character of Tyndale--He arrives in London--He preaches--The Cloth
  and the Ell--The bishop of London gives Audience to Tyndale--He
  is dismissed--A Christian Merchant of London--Spirit of Love in
  the Reformation--Tyndale in Monmouth's House--Fryth helps him
  to translate the New Testament--Importunities of the Bishop of
  Lincoln--Persecution in London--Tyndale's Resolution--He
  departs--His Indignation against the Prelates--His Hopes,       page 182


  CHAPTER IX.

  Bilney at Cambridge--Conversions--The University Cross-Bearer--A
  Leicestershire Farmer--A Party of Students--Superstitious
  Practices--An obstinate Papist--The Sophists--Latimer attacks
  Stafford--Bilney's Resolution--Latimer hears Bilney's Confession--
  Confessor converted--New Life in Latimer--Bilney preaches
  Grace--Nature of the Ministry--Latimer's Character and Teaching--
  Works of Charity--Three Classes of Adversaries--Clark and
  Dalaber,                                                        page 190


  CHAPTER X.

  Wolsey seeks the Tiara--Clement VII is elected--Wolsey's dissimulation--
  Charles offers France to Henry--Pace's Mission on this Subject--Wolsey
  reforms the Convents--His secret Alliances--Treaty between France
  and England--Taxation and Insurrection--False Charges against the
  Reformers--Latimer's Defence--Tenterden Steeple,                page 201


  CHAPTER XI.

  Tyndale at Hamburg--First two Gospels--Embarrassment--Tyndale
  at Wittemberg--At Cologne--The New Testament at Press--Sudden
  Interruption--Cochlæus at Cologne--Rupert's Manuscripts--Discovery
  of Cochlæus--His Inquiries--His alarm--Rincke and the
  Senate's Prohibition--Consternation and Decision of Tyndale--Cochlæus
  writes to England--Tyndale ascends the Rhine--Prints
  two Editions at Worms--Tyndale's Prayer,                        page 207


  CHAPTER XII.

  Worms and Cambridge--St. Paul resuscitated--Latimer's Preaching--
  Never Man spake like this Man--Joy and Vexation at Cambridge--
  Sermon by Prior Buckingham--Irony--Latimer's Reply to Buckingham--
  The Students threatened--Latimer preaches before the Bishop--He
  is forbidden to preach--The most zealous of Bishops--Barnes
  the Restorer of Letters--Bilney undertakes to convert him--Barnes
  offers his pulpit to Latimer--Fryth's Thirst for God--Christmas
  Eve, 1525--Storm against Barnes--Ferment in the Colleges--Germany
  at Cambridge--Meetings at Oxford--General Expectation,          page 215


  BOOK XIX.

  THE ENGLISH NEW TESTAMENT AND THE COURT OF ROME.


  CHAPTER I.

  Church and State essentially distinct--Their fundamental Principles--
  What restores Life to the Church--Separation from Rome necessary--
  Reform and Liberty--The New Testament crosses the sea--Is
  hidden in London--Garret's Preaching and Zeal--Dissemination of
  Scripture--What the People find in it--The Effects it produces--
  Tyndale's Explanations--Roper, More's son-in-law--Garret carries
  Tyndale's Testament to Oxford--Henry and his Valet--The
  Supplication of the Beggars--Two Sorts of Beggars--Evils caused
  by Priests--More's Supplications of the Souls in Purgatory,     page 228


  CHAPTER II.

  The two Authorities--Commencement of the Search--Garret at Oxford--
  His Flight--His return and Imprisonment--Escapes and takes Refuge
  with Dalaber--Garret and Dalaber at Prayer--The _Magnificat_--
  Surprise among the Doctors--Clark's Advice--Fraternal Love at
  Oxford--Alarm of Dalaber--His Arrest and Examination--He is
  tortured--Garret and twenty Fellows imprisoned--The Cellar--
  Condemnation and Humiliation,                                   page 238


  CHAPTER III.

  Persecution at Cambridge--Barnes arrested--A grand Search--Barnes
  at Wolsey's Palace--Interrogated by the Cardinal--Conversation
  between Wolsey and Barnes--Barnes threatened with the Stake--His
  Fall and public Penance--Richard Bayfield--His Faith and
  Imprisonment--Visits Cambridge--Joins Tyndale--The Confessors
  in the Cellar at Oxford--Four of them die--The rest liberated,  page 246


  CHAPTER IV.

  Luther's Letter to the King--Henry's Anger--His Reply--Luther's
  Resolution--Persecutions--Barnes escapes--Proclamations against
  the New Testament--W. Roy to Caiaphas--Third Edition of the New
  Testament--The Triumph of Law and Liberty--Hacket attacks the
  Printer--Hacket's Complaints--A seizure--The Year 1526 in
  England,                                                        page 255


  CHAPTER V.

  Wolsey desires to be revenged--The Divorce suggested--Henry's
  Sentiments towards the Queen--Wolsey's first Steps--Longland's
  Proceedings--Refusal of Margaret of Valois--Objection of the
  Bishop of Tarbes--Henry's uneasiness--Catherine's Alarm--Mission
  to Spain,                                                       page 261


  CHAPTER VI.

  Anne Boleyn appointed Maid of Honour to Catherine--Lord Percy
  becomes attached to her--Wolsey separates them--Anne Enters
  Margaret's Household--Siege of Rome; Cromwell--Wolsey's
  Intercession for the Popedom--He demands the Hand of Renée of
  France for Henry--Failure--Anne re-appears at Court--Repels the
  king's Advances--Henry's Letter--He resolves to accelerate the
  Divorce--Two Motives which induce Anne to refuse the Crown--
  Wolsey's Opposition,                                            page 267


  CHAPTER VII.

  Bilney's Preaching--His arrest--Arthur's Preaching and Imprisonment--
  Bilney's Examination--Contest between the Judge and the Prisoner--
  Bilney's weakness and Fall--His Terrors--Two Wants--Arrival
  of the Fourth Edition of the New Testament--Joy among the
  Believers,                                                      page 275


  CHAPTER VIII.

  The Papacy intercepts the Gospel--The King consults Sir Thomas
  More--Ecclesiastical Conferences about the divorce--The Universities--
  Clark--The Nun of Kent--Wolsey decides to do the king's
  Will--Mission to the Pope--Four Documents--Embarrassment of
  Charles V--Francis Philip at Madrid--Distress and Resolution of
  Charles--He turns away from the Reformation--Conference at the
  Castle of St. Angelo--Knight arrives in Italy--His Flight--Treaty
  between the Pope and the Emperor--Escape of the Pope--Confusion
  of Henry VIII--Wolsey's orders--His Entreaties,                 page 281

  CHAPTER IX.

  The English Envoys at Orvieto--Their oration to the Pope--Clement
  gains Time--The Envoys and Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor--Stratagem
  of the Pope--Knight discovers it and returns--The Transformations
  of Antichrist--The English obtain a new Document--Fresh
  Stratagem--Demand of a second Cardinal-legate--The Pope's
  new Expedient--End of the Campaign,                             page 289

  CHAPTER X.

  Disappointment in England--War declared against Charles V--Wolsey
  desires to get him deposed by the Pope--A new Scheme--Embassy
  of Fox and Gardiner--Their Arrival at Orvieto--Their
  first interview with Clement--The Pope reads a treatise by Henry--
  Gardiner's Threats and Clement's Promise--The Modern Fabius--Fresh
  Interview and Menaces--The pope has not _the key_--Gardiner's
  Proposition--Difficulties and delays of the Cardinals--Gardiner's
  last Blows--Reverses of Charles V in Italy--The Pope's
  Terror and Concession--The _Commission_ granted--Wolsey demands
  the _Engagement_--A Loophole--The Pope's Distress,              page 297

  CHAPTER XI.

  Fox's Report to Henry and Anne--Wolsey's Impression--He demands
  the Decretal--One of the Cardinal's petty Manoeuvres--He sets
  his Conscience at Rest--Gardiner fails at Rome--Wolsey's new
  perfidy--The King's Anger against the Pope--Sir T. More predicts
  Religious Liberty--Immorality of Ultramontane Socialism--Erasmus
  invited--Wolsey's last Flight--Energetic Efforts at Rome--Clement
  grants all--Wolsey triumphs--Union of Rome and
  England,                                                        page 307


  BOOK XX.

  THE TWO DIVORCES.


  CHAPTER I.

  Progress of the Reformation--The two Divorces--Entreaties to Anne
  Boleyn--The Letters in the Vatican--Henry to Anne--Henry's
  Second Letter--Third--Fourth--Wolsey's Alarm--His fruitless
  Proceedings--He turns--The Sweating Sickness--Henry's Fears--New
  Letters to Anne--Anne falls sick; her Peace--Henry writes to her--
  Wolsey's Terror--Campeggio does not arrive--All dissemble at
  Court,                                                          page 316


  CHAPTER II.

  Coverdale and Inspiration--He undertakes to translate the Scriptures--
  His Joy and Spiritual Songs--Tyball and the Laymen--Coverdale
  preaches at Bumpstead--Revival at Colchester--Incomplete
  Societies and the New Testament--Persecution--Monmouth arrested
  and released,                                                   page 327


  CHAPTER III.

  Political Changes--Fresh Instructions from the Pope to Campeggio--
  His Delays--He unbosoms himself to Francis--A Prediction--Arrival
  of Campeggio--Wolsey's Uneasiness--Henry's Satisfaction--The
  Cardinal's Project--Campeggio's Reception--First Interview with
  the Queen and with the King--Useless Efforts to make Campeggio part
  with the Decretal--The Nuncio's Conscience--Public Opinion--Measures
  taken by the King--His Speech to the Lords and Aldermen--
  Festivities--Wolsey seeks French Support--Contrariety,          page 334


  CHAPTER IV.

  True Catholicity--Wolsey--Harman's Matter--West sent to Cologne--Labours
  of Tyndale and Fryth--Rincke at Frankfort--He makes a Discovery--
  Tyndale at Marburg--West returns to England--His Tortures in the
  Monastery,                                                      page 347


  CHAPTER V.

  Necessity of the Reformation--Wolsey's Earnestness with Da Casale--An
  Audience with Clement VII--Cruel Position of the Pope--A
  Judas' Kiss--A new Brief--Bryan and Vannes sent to Rome--Henry
  and Du Bellay--Wolsey's Reasons against the Brief--Excitement in
  London--Metamorphosis--Wolsey's Decline--His Anguish,           page 353


  CHAPTER VI.

  The Pope's Illness--Wolsey's Desire--Conference about the Members
  of the Conclave--Wolsey's Instructions--The Pope recovers--Speech
  of the English Envoys to the Pope--Clement willing to abandon
  England--The English demand the Pope's Denial of the Brief--Wolsey's--
  Alarm--Intrigues--Bryan's Clearsightedness--Henry's
  Threats--Wolsey's new Efforts--He calls for an Appeal to Rome,
  and retracts--Wolsey and Du Bellay at Richmond--The Ship of the
  State,                                                          page 359


  CHAPTER VII.

  Discussion Between the Evangelicals and the Catholics--Union of
  Learning and Life--The Laity--Tewkesbury--His Appearance before
  the Bishop's Court--He is tortured--Two Classes of Opponents--A
  Theological Duel--Scripture and the Church--Emancipation of the
  Mind--Mission to the Low Countries--Tyndale's Embarrassment--Tonstall
  wishes to buy the Books--Packington's Stratagem--Tyndale
  departs for Antwerp--His Shipwreck--Arrival at Hamburg--Meets
  Coverdale,                                                      page 366


  CHAPTER VIII.

  The Royal Session--Sitting of the 18th June; the Queen's Protest--Sitting
  of the 21st June--Summons to the King and Queen--Catherine's
  Speech--She retires--Impression on the Audience--The King's
  Declaration--Wolsey's Protest--Quarrel between the Bishops--New
  Sitting--Apparition to the Maid of Kent--Wolsey chafed by
  Henry--The Earl of Wiltshire at Wolsey's--Private Conference between
  Catherine and the two Legates,                                  page 375


  CHAPTER IX.

  The Trial resumed--Catherine summoned--Twelve Articles--The
  Witnesses' Evidence--Arthur and Catherine really married--Campeggio
  opposes the Argument of Divine Right--Other Arguments--The
  Legates required to deliver Judgment--Their Tergiversations--Change
  in Men's Minds--Final Session--General Expectation--Adjournment
  during Harvest--Campeggio excuses this Impertinence--The
  King's Indignation--Suffolk's Violence--Wolsey's Reply--He
  is ruined--General Accusations--The Cardinal turns to an
  Episcopal Life,                                                 page 384


  CHAPTER X.

  Anne Boleyn at Hever--She Reads the Obedience of a Christian Man--Is
  recalled to Court--Miss Gainsford and George Zouch--Tyndale's
  Book converts Zouch--Zouch in the Chapel-Royal--The Book seized--Anne
  applies to Henry--The King reads the Book--Pretended Influence of the
  Book on Henry--The Court at Woodstock--The Park and its Goblins--
  Henry's Esteem for Anne,                                        page 390


  CHAPTER XI.

  Embarrassment of the pope--The Triumphs of Charles decide him--He
  traverses the Cause to Rome--Wolsey's Dejection--Henry's
  Wrath--His Fears--Wolsey obtains Comfort--Arrival of the two
  Legates at Grafton--Wolsey's reception by Henry--Wolsey and
  Norfolk at Dinner--Henry with Anne--Conference between the
  King and the Cardinal--Wolsey's Joy and Grief--The Supper at
  Euston--Campeggio's Farewell Audience--Wolsey's Disgrace--Campeggio
  at Dover--He is accused by the courtiers--Leaves
  England--Wolsey foresees his own Fall and that of the
  Papacy,                                                         page 397


  CHAPTER XII.

  A Meeting at Waltham--Youth of Thomas Cranmer--His early Education--
  Studies Scripture for Three Years--His functions as Examiner--The
  Supper at Waltham--New View of the Divorce--Fox communicates it to
  Henry--Cranmer's Vexation--Conference with the King--Cranmer at the
  Boleyns,                                                        page 407

  CHAPTER XIII.

  Wolsey in the Court of Chancery--Accused by the Dukes--Refuses to
  give up the Great Seal--His Despair--He gives up the Seal--Order
  to depart--His Inventory--Alarm--The Scene of Departure--Favourable
  Message from the King--Wolsey's Joy--His Fool--Arrival
  at Esher,                                                       page 412

  CHAPTER XIV.

  Thomas More elected Chancellor--A lay Government one of the great
  Facts of the Reformation--Wolsey accused of subordinating England
  to the Pope--He implores the King's Clemency--His Condemnation--Cromwell
  at Esher--His Character--He sets out for London--Sir Christopher
  Hales recommends him to the King--Cromwell's Interview with Henry
  in the Park--A new Theory--Cromwell elected Member of Parliament--
  Opened by Sir Thomas More--Attack on ecclesiastical Abuses--Reforms
  pronounced by the Convocation--Three Bills--Rochester attacks
  them--Resistance of the House of Commons--Struggles--Henry
  sanctions the three Bills--Alarm of the Clergy and Disturbances,
                                                                  page 418

  CHAPTER XV.

  The last hour--More's Fanaticism--Debates in Convocation--Royal
  Proclamation--The Bishop of Norwich--Sentences condemned--Latimer's
  Opposition--The New Testament burnt--The Persecution begins--Hitton--
  Bayfield--Tonstall and Packington--Bayfield arrested--The
  Rector Patmore--Lollards' Tower--Tyndale and Patmore--a
  Musician--Freese the Painter--Placards and Martyrdom
  of Bennet--Thomas More and John Petit--Bilney,                  page 426

  CHAPTER XVI.

  Wolsey's Terror--Impeachment by the Peers--Cromwell saves him--The
  Cardinal's Illness--Ambition returns to him--His Practices in
  Yorkshire--He is arrested by Northumberland--His departure--Arrival
  of the Constable of the Tower--Wolsey at Leicester Abbey--Persecuting
  Language--He dies--Three Movements: Supremacy,
  Scripture, and Faith,                                           page 438




HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION.




BOOK XVII.

ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION.




CHAPTER I.

     Introduction--Work of the Sixteenth Century--Unity and
     Diversity--Necessity of considering the entire Religious
     History of England--Establishment of Christianity in Great
     Britain--Formation of Ecclesiastical Catholicism in the
     Roman Empire--Spiritual Christianity received by
     Britain--Slavery and Conversion of Succat--His Mission to
     Ireland--Anglo-Saxons re-establish Paganism in
     England--Columba at Iona--Evangelical Teaching--Presbytery
     and Episcopacy in Great Britain--Continental Missions of the
     Britons--An Omission.


Those heavenly powers which had lain dormant in the Church since the
first ages of Christianity, awoke from their slumber in the sixteenth
century, and this awakening called the modern times into existence.
The Church was created anew, and from that regeneration have flowed
the great developments of literature and science, of morality,
liberty, and industry, which at present characterize the nations of
Christendom. None of these things would have existed without the
Reformation. Whenever society enters upon a new era, it requires the
baptism of faith. In the sixteenth century God gave to man this
consecration from on high by leading him back from mere outward
profession and the mechanism of works to an inward and lively faith.

[Sidenote: UNITY AND DIVERSITY.]

This transformation was not effected without struggles--struggles
which presented at first a remarkable unity. On the day of battle one
and the same feeling animated every bosom: after the victory they
became divided. Unity of faith indeed remained, but the difference of
nationalities brought into the Church a diversity of forms. Of this we
are about to witness a striking example. The Reformation, which had
begun its triumphal march in Germany, Switzerland, France, and several
other parts of the continent, was destined to receive new strength by
the conversion of a celebrated country, long known as the _Isle of
Saints_. This island was to add its banner to the trophy of
Protestantism, but that banner preserved its distinctive colours. When
England became reformed, a puissant individualism joined its might to
the great unity.

If we search for the characteristics of the British Reformation, we
shall find that, beyond any other, they were social, national, and
truly human. There is no people among whom the Reformation has
produced to the same degree that morality and order, that liberty,
public spirit, and activity, which are the very essence of a nation's
greatness. Just as the papacy has degraded the Spanish peninsula, has
the Gospel exalted the British islands. Hence the study upon which we
are entering possesses an interest peculiar to itself.

In order that this study may be useful, it should have a character of
universality. To confine the history of a people within the space of a
few years, or even of a century, would deprive that history of both
truth and life. We might indeed have traditions, chronicles, and
legends, but there would be no history. History is a wonderful
organization, no part of which can be retrenched. To understand the
present, we must know the past. Society, like man himself, has its
infancy, youth, maturity, and old age. Ancient or Pagan society, which
had spent its infancy in the East in the midst of the antihellenic
races, had its youth in the animated epoch of the Greeks, its manhood
in the stern period of Roman greatness, and its old age under the
decline of the empire. Modern society has passed through analogous
stages: at the time of the Reformation it attained that of the
full-grown man. We shall now proceed to trace the destinies of the
Church in England, from the earliest times of Christianity. These long
and distant preparations are one of the distinctive characteristics of
its reformation.

Before the sixteenth century this Church had passed through two great
phases.

The first was that of its formation--the second that of its
corruption.

In its formation it was oriento-apostolical.

In its corruption it was successively national-papistical and
royal-papistical.

After these two degrees of decline came the last and great phasis of
the Reformation.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: GOSPEL CARRIED TO BRITAIN.]

In the second century of the Christian era vessels were frequently
sailing to the savage shores of Britain from the ports of Asia Minor,
Greece, Alexandria, or the Greek colonies in Gaul. Among the merchants
busied in calculating the profits they could make upon the produce of
the East with which their ships were laden, would occasionally be
found a few pious men from the banks of the Meander or the Hermus,
conversing peacefully with one another about the birth, life, death,
and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, and rejoicing at the prospect
of saving by these glad tidings the pagans towards whom they were
steering. It would appear that some British prisoners of war, having
learnt to know Christ during their captivity, bore also to their
fellow-countrymen the knowledge of this Saviour. It may be, too, that
some Christian soldiers, the Corneliuses of those imperial armies
whose advanced posts reached the southern parts of Scotland, desirous
of more lasting conquests, may have read to the people whom they had
subdued, the writings of Matthew, John, and Paul. It is of little
consequence to know whether one of these first converts was, according
to tradition, a prince named Lucius. It is certain that the tidings of
the Son of man, crucified and raised again, under Tiberius, spread
through these islands more rapidly than the dominion of the emperors,
and that before the end of the second century many churches worshipped
Christ beyond the walls of Adrian; in those mountains, forests, and
western isles, which for centuries past the Druids had filled with
their mysteries and their sacrifices, and on which even the Roman
eagles had never stooped.[6] These churches were formed after the
eastern type: the Britons would have refused to receive the type of
that Rome whose yoke they detested.

  [6] Britannorum inaccessa Romanis loca Christo vero subdita.
  (Tertullian contra Judæos, lib. vii) Parts of Britain inaccessible to
  the Romans were, however, subjected to Christ. This work, from its
  bearing no traces of Montanism, seems to belong to the first part of
  Tertullian's life. See also Origen in Lucam, cap. i. homil. 6.

[Sidenote: CULDEES.]

The first thing which the British Christians received from the capital
of the empire was persecution. But Diocletian, by striking the
disciples of Jesus Christ in Britain only increased their number.[7]
Many Christians from the southern part of the island took refuge in
Scotland, where they raised their humble roofs, and under the name of
_Culdees_ prayed for the salvation of their protectors. When the
surrounding pagans saw the holiness of these men of God, they
abandoned in great numbers their sacred oaks, their mysterious
caverns, and their blood-stained altars, and obeyed the gentle voice
of the Gospel. After the death of these pious refugees, their cells
were transformed into houses of prayer.[8] In 305, Constantius Chlorus
succeeded to the throne of the Cæsars, and put an end to the
persecution.

  [7] Lactantius, de mortibus persecutorum, cap. xii.

  [8] Multi ex Brittonibus Christiani sævitiam Diocletiani timentes ad
  eos coufugerant........ut vita functorum cellæ in templa
  commutarentur. (Buchanan, iv. c. xxxv.) Many Christians from Britain,
  fearing the cruelty of Diocletian, took refuge among the
  Scots......and the cells in which their holy lives were spent, were
  changed into churches.

The Christianity which was brought to these people by merchants,
soldiers, or missionaries, although not the ecclesiastical catholicism
already creeping into life in the Roman empire, was not the primitive
evangelism of the apostles. The East and the South could only give to
the North of what they possessed. The mere human period had succeeded
to the creative and miraculous period of the church. After the
extraordinary manifestations of the Holy Ghost, which had produced the
apostolic age, the church had been left to the inward power of the
word and of the Comforter. But Christians did not generally comprehend
the spiritual life to which they were called. God had been pleased to
give them a divine religion; and this they gradually assimilated more
and more to the religions of human origin. Instead of saying, in the
spirit of the gospel, the word of God first, and through it the
doctrine and the life--the doctrine and the life, and through them the
forms; they said, forms first, and salvation by these forms. They
ascribed to bishops a power which belongs only to Holy Scripture.
Instead of ministers of the word, they desired to have priests;
instead of an inward sacrifice, a sacrifice offered on the altar; and
costly temples instead of a living church. They began to seek in men,
in ceremonies, and in holy places, what they could find only in the
Word and in the lively faith of the children of God. In this manner
evangelical religion gave place to catholicism, and by gradual
degeneration in after-years catholicism gave birth to popery.

This grievous transformation took place more particularly in the East,
in Africa, and in Italy. Britain was at first comparatively exempt. At
the very time that the savage Picts and Scots, rushing from their
heathen homes, were devastating the country, spreading terror on all
sides, and reducing the people to slavery, we discover here and there
some humble Christian receiving salvation not by a clerical
sacramentalism, but by the work of the Holy Ghost in the heart. At the
end of the fourth century we meet with an illustrious example of such
conversions.

[Sidenote: SUCCAT.]

On the picturesque banks of the Clyde, not far from Glasgow, in the
Christian village of Bonavern, now Kilpatrick, a little boy, of tender
heart, lively temperament, and indefatigable activity, passed the
earlier days of his life. He was born about the year 372 A.D., of a
British family, and was named Succat.[9] His father, Calpurnius,
deacon of the church of Bonavern, a simple-hearted pious man, and his
mother, Conchessa, sister to the celebrated Martin, archbishop of
Tours,[10] and a woman superior to the majority of her sex, had
endeavoured to instil into his heart the doctrines of Christianity;
but Succat did not understand them. He was fond of pleasure, and
delighted to be the leader of his youthful companions. In the midst of
his frivolities, he committed a serious fault.

  [9] In baptismo haud Patricium sed Succat a parentibus fuisse dictum.
  (Usser. Brit. Eccl. Antiq. p. 428.) At his baptism he was named by his
  parents not Patrick but Succat.

  [10] Martini Turonum archiepiscopi consanguineam. Ibid.

[Sidenote: EVANGELICAL FAITH.]

His parents having then quitted Scotland and settled in Armorica
(Bretagne,) a terrible calamity befell them. One day as Succat was
playing near the seashore with two of his sisters, some Irish pirates,
commanded by O'Neal, carried them all three off to their boats, and
sold them in Ireland to the petty chieftain of some pagan clan. Succat
was sent into the fields to keep swine.[11] It was while alone in
these solitary pastures, without priest and without temple, that the
young slave called to mind the Divine lessons which his pious mother
had so often read to him. The fault which he had committed pressed
heavily night and day upon his soul: he groaned in heart, and wept. He
turned repenting towards that meek Saviour of whom Conchessa had so
often spoken; he fell at His knees in that heathen land; and imagined
he felt the arms of a father uplifting the prodigal son. Succat was
then born from on high, but by an agent so spiritual, so internal,
that he knew not "Whence it cometh or whither it goeth." The Gospel
was written with the finger of God on the tablets of his heart. "I was
sixteen years old," said he, "and knew not the true God; but in that
strange land the Lord opened my unbelieving eyes, and, although late,
I called my sins to mind, and was converted with my whole heart to the
Lord my God, who regarded my low estate, had pity on my youth and
ignorance, and consoled me as a father consoles his children."[12]

  [11] Cujus porcorum, pastor erat. Usser. Brit. Eccl. Antiq. p. 431.

  [12] Et ibi Dominus aperuit sensum incredulitatis meæ, ut vel sero
  remorarem delicta mea, et ut converterer torto corde ad Dominum Deum
  meum. Patr. Confess. Usser. 431.

Such words as these from the lips of a swineherd in the green pastures
of Ireland set clearly before us the Christianity which in the fourth
and fifth centuries converted many souls in the British isles. In
after-years, Rome established the dominion of the priest and salvation
by forms, independently of the dispositions of the heart; but the
primitive religion of these celebrated islands was that living
Christianity whose substance is the grace of Jesus Christ, and whose
power is the grace of the Holy Ghost. The herdsman from the banks of
the Clyde was then undergoing those experiences which so many
evangelical Christians in those countries have subsequently undergone.
"The love of God increased more and more in me," said he, "with faith
and the fear of His name. The Spirit urged me to such a degree that I
poured forth as many as a hundred prayers in one day. And even during
the night, in the forests and on the mountains where I kept my flock,
the rain, and snow, and frost, and sufferings which I endured, excited
me to seek after God. At that time, I felt not the indifference which
now I feel: the Spirit fermented in my heart."[13] Evangelical faith
even then existed in the British islands in the person of this slave,
and of some few Christians born again, like him, from on high.

  [13] Ut etiam in sylvis et monte manebam, et ante lucem excitabar ad
  orationem per nivem, per gelu, per pluviam...... quia tunc Spiritus in
  me fervebat. Patr. Confess. Usser, 432.

Twice a captive, and twice rescued, Succat, after returning to his
family, felt an irresistible appeal in his heart. It was his duty to
carry the Gospel to those Irish pagans among whom he had found Jesus
Christ. His parents and his friends endeavoured in vain to detain him;
the same ardent desire pursued him in his dreams. During the silent
watches of the night he fancied he heard voices calling to him from
the dark forests of Erin: "Come, holy child, and walk once more among
us." He awoke in tears, his breast filled with the keenest
emotion.[14] He tore himself from the arms of his parents, and rushed
forth--not as heretofore with his playfellows, when he would climb the
summit of some lofty hill--but with a heart full of charity in Christ.
He departed: "It was not done of my own strength," said he; "it was
God who overcame all."

  [14] Valde compunctus sum corde et sic expergefactus. (Patr. Confess.
  Usser. 433.) I was vehemently pricked in my heart, and so awoke.

[Sidenote: PATRICK'S MISSION.]

Succat, afterwards known as Saint Patrick, and to which name, as to
that of St. Peter and other servants of God, many superstitions have
been attached, returned to Ireland, but without visiting Rome, as an
historian of the twelfth century has asserted.[15] Ever active,
prompt, and ingenious, he collected the pagan tribes in the fields by
beat of drum, and then narrated to them in their own tongue the
history of the Son of God. Erelong his simple recitals exercised a
divine power over their rude hearts, and many souls were converted,
not by external sacraments or by the worship of images, but by the
preaching of the word of God. The son of a chieftain, whom Patrick
calls Benignus, learnt from him to proclaim the Gospel, and was
destined to succeed him. The court bard, Dubrach Mac Valubair, no
longer sang druidical hymns, but canticles addressed to Jesus Christ.
Patrick was not entirely free from the errors of the time; perhaps he
believed in pious miracles; but generally speaking we meet with
nothing but the Gospel in the earlier days of the British Church. The
time no doubt will come when Ireland will again feel the power of the
Holy Ghost, which had once converted it by the ministrations of a
Scotchman.

  [15] Jocelinus, Vita in Acta Sanctorum.

Shortly before the evangelization of Patrick in Ireland, a Briton
named Pelagius, having visited Italy, Africa, and Palestine, began to
teach a strange doctrine. Desirous of making head against the moral
indifference into which most of the Christians in those countries had
fallen, and which would appear to have been in strong contrast with
the British austerity, he denied the doctrine of original sin,
extolled free-will, and maintained that, if man made use of all the
powers of his nature, he would attain perfection. We do not find that
he taught these opinions in his own country; but from the continent,
where he disseminated them, they soon reached Britain. The British
churches refused to receive this "perverse doctrine," their historian
tells us, "and to blaspheme the grace of Jesus Christ."[16] They do
not appear to have held the strict doctrine of Saint Augustine: they
believed indeed that man has need of an inward change, and that this
the divine power alone can effect; but like the churches of Asia, from
which they had sprung, they seem to have conceded something to our
natural strength in the work of conversion; and Pelagius, with a good
intention it would appear, went still further. However that may be,
these churches, strangers to the controversy, were unacquainted with
all its subtleties. Two Gaulish bishops, Germanus and Lupus, came to
their aid, and those who had been perverted returned into the way of
truth.[17]

  [16] Verum Britanni cum neque suscipere dogma perversum, gratiam
  Christi blasphemando nullatenus vellent. Beda. Hist. Angl. lib. i,
  cap. xvii, et xxi.

  [17] Depravati viam correctionis agnoscerent. Beda, Hist. Angl. lib.
  i. cap. xvii. et xxi.

[Sidenote: SAXON INVASION.]

Shortly after this, events of great importance took place in Great
Britain, and the light of faith disappeared in profound night. In 449,
Hengist and Horsa, with their Saxon followers, being invited by the
wretched inhabitants to aid them against the cruel ravages of the
Picts and Scots, soon turned their swords against the people they had
come to assist. Christianity was driven back with the Britons into the
mountains of Wales and the wild moors of Northumberland and Cornwall.
Many British families remained in the midst of the conquerors, but
without exercising any religious influence over them. While the
conquering races, settled at Paris, Ravenna, or Toledo, gradually laid
aside their paganism and savage manners, the barbarous customs of the
Saxons prevailed unmoderated throughout the kingdoms of the Heptarchy,
and in every quarter temples to Thor rose above the churches in which
Jesus Christ had been worshipped. Gaul and the south of Europe, which
still exhibited to the eyes of the barbarians the last vestiges of
Roman grandeur, alone had the power of inspiring some degree of
respect in the formidable Germans, and of transforming their faith.
From this period, the Greeks and Latins, and even the converted Goths,
looked at this island with unutterable dread. The soil, said they, is
covered with serpents; the air is thick with deadly exhalations; the
souls of the departed are transported thither at midnight from the
shores of Gaul. Ferrymen, sons of Erebus and Night, admit these
invisible shades into their boats, and listen, with a shudder, to
their mysterious whisperings. England, whence light was one day to be
shed over the habitable globe, was then the trysting-place of the
dead. And yet the Christianity of the British isles was not to be
annihilated by these barbarian invasions; it possessed a strength
which rendered it capable of energetic resistance.

[Sidenote: COLUMBA.]

In one of the churches formed by Succat's preaching, there arose about
two centuries after him a pious man named Columba, son of Feidlimyd,
the son of Fergus. Valuing the cross of Christ more highly than the
royal blood that flowed in his veins, he resolved to devote himself to
the King of heaven. Shall he not repay to the country of Succat what
Succat had imparted to his? "I will go," said he; "and preach
the word of God in Scotland;"[18] for the word of God and not an
ecclesiastical hierarchism was then the converting agency. The
grandson of Fergus communicated the zeal which animated him to the
hearts of several fellow-christians. They repaired to the seashore,
and cutting down the pliant branches of the osier, constructed a frail
bark, which they covered with the skins of beasts. In this rude boat
they embarked in the year 565, and after being driven to and fro on
the ocean, the little missionary band reached the waters of the
Hebrides. Columba landed near the barren rocks of Mull, to the south
of the basaltic caverns of Staffa, and fixed his abode in a small
island, afterwards known as Iona or Icolmkill, "the island of
Columba's cell." Some Christian Culdees, driven out by the dissensions
of the Picts and Scots, had already found a refuge in the same retired
spot. Here the missionaries erected a chapel, whose walls, it is said,
still exist among the stately ruins of a later age.[19] Some authors
have placed Columba in the first rank after the apostles.[20] True, we
do not find in him the faith of a Paul or a John; but he lived as in
the sight of God; he mortified the flesh, and slept on the ground with
a stone for his pillow. Amid this solemn scenery, and among customs so
rude, the form of the missionary, illumined by a light from heaven,
shone with love, and manifested the joy and serenity of his heart.[21]
Although subject to the same passions as ourselves, he wrestled
against his weakness, and would not have one moment lost for the glory
of God. He prayed and read, he wrote and taught, he preached and
redeemed the time. With indefatigable activity he went from house to
house, and from kingdom to kingdom. The king of the Picts was
converted, as were also many of his people; precious manuscripts were
conveyed to Iona; a school of theology was founded there, in which the
word was studied; and many received through faith the salvation which
is in Christ Jesus. Erelong a missionary spirit breathed over this
ocean rock, so justly named "the light of the western world."

  [18] Prædicaturus verbum Dei. Usser. Antiq p. 359.

  [19] I visited Iona in 1845 with Dr. Patrick M'Farlan, and saw these
  ruins. One portion of the building seems to be of primitive
  architecture.

  [20] Nulli post apostolos secundus. (Notker.) Second to none after the
  apostles.

  [21]

      Qui de prosapia regali claruit,
      Sed morum gratia magis emicuit.
                 Usser. Antiq. p. 360.

  He was distinguished by his royal descent, but his character rendered
  him still more illustrious.

[Sidenote: HIS TEACHING.]

The Judaical sacerdotalism which was beginning to extend in the
Christian Church found no support in Iona. They had forms, but not to
them did they look for life. It was the Holy Ghost, Columba
maintained, that made a servant of God. When the youth of Caledonia
assembled around the elders on these savage shores, or in their humble
chapel, these ministers of the Lord would say to them: "The Holy
Scriptures are the only rule of faith.[22] Throw aside all merit of
works, and look for salvation to the grace of God alone.[23] Beware of
a religion which consists of outward observances: it is better to keep
your heart pure before God than to abstain from meats.[24] One alone
is your head, Jesus Christ. Bishops and presbyters are equal;[25] they
should be the husbands of one wife, and have their children in
subjection."[26]

  [22] Prolatis Sanctæ Scripturæ testimoniis. (Adomn. 1. i. c. 22.) The
  testimony of the Holy Scriptures being exhibited.

  [23] Bishop Munter, Altbritische Kirche. Stud. und Krit. vi. 745.

  [24] Meliores sunt ergo qui non magno opere jejunant, cor intrinsecus
  nitidum coram Deo sollicite servantes. (Gildas in ejusd. Synod.
  Append.) Those are better who, though not fasting very particularly,
  keep diligently before God a heart pure within.

  [25] In Hibernia episcopi et presbyteri unum sunt. (Ekkehardi liber.
  Arx. Geschichte von S. Gall. i. 267.) In Ireland bishops and
  presbyters are equal.

  [26] Patrem habui Calpornium diaconum filium quondam Potiti
  Presbyteri. Patricii Confessio. Even as late as the twelfth century we
  meet with married Irish bishops. (Bernard, Vita Malachiæ, cap. x.) My
  father was Calpurnius son of Potitus once a presbyter.

The sages of Iona knew nothing of transubstantiation or of the
withdrawal of the cup in the Lord's Supper, or of auricular
confession, or of prayers to the dead, or tapers, or incense; they
celebrated Easter on a different day from Rome;[27] synodal assemblies
regulated the affairs of the church, and the papal supremacy was
unknown.[28] The sun of the Gospel shone upon these wild and distant
shores. In after-years, it was the privilege of Great Britain to
recover with a purer lustre the same sun and the same Gospel.

  [27] In die quidem dominica alia tamen quam dicebat hebdomade
  celebrabant. Beda, lib. iii. cap. iv.

  [28] Augustinus novam religionem docet.....dum ad unius episcopi
  romani dominatum omnia revocat. (Buchan. lib. v. cap. xxxvi.)
  Augustine teaches a _new_ religion ... when he reduces all under the
  dominion of the bishop of Rome alone.

Iona, governed by a simple elder,[29] had become a missionary college.
It has been sometimes called a monastery, but the dwelling of the
grandson of Fergus in nowise resembled the popish convents. When its
youthful inmates desired to spread the knowledge of Jesus Christ, they
thought not of going elsewhere in quest of episcopal ordination.
Kneeling in the chapel of Icolmkill, they were set apart by the laying
on of the hands of the elders: they were called _bishops_, but
remained obedient to the _elder_ or presbyter of Iona. They even
consecrated other bishops: thus Finan laid hands upon Diuma, bishop of
Middlesex. These British Christians attached great importance to the
ministry; but not to one form in preference to another. Presbytery and
episcopacy were with them, as with the primitive church, almost
identical.[30] Somewhat later we find that neither the venerable Bede,
nor Lanfranc, nor Anselm--the two last were archbishops of
Canterbury--made any objection to the ordination of British bishops by
plain presbyters.[31] The religious and moral element that belongs to
Christianity still predominated; the sacerdotal element, which
characterizes human religions, whether among the Brahmins or
elsewhere, was beginning to show itself, but in great Britain at least
it held a very subordinate station. Christianity was still a religion
and not a caste. They did not require of the servant of God, as a
warrant of his capacity, a long list of names succeeding one another
like the beads of a rosary; they entertained serious, noble, and holy
ideas of the ministry; its authority proceeded wholly from Jesus
Christ its head.

  [29] Habere autem solet ipsa insula rectorem semper abbatem
  _presbyterum_ cujus juri et omnis provincia et _ipsi etiam episcopi_,
  ordine inusitato, debeant esse subjecti, juxta exemplum primi doctoris
  illius qui non episcopus sed _presbyter_ exstitit et monachus. (Beda,
  Hist. Eccl. iii. cap. iv.) Moreover it was always the custom to have
  as governor in that island an abbot who is a presbyter, to whose
  direction the entire province and also the bishops contrary to the
  usual method are subject, according to the example of their first
  teacher, who was not a bishop, but a presbyter and monk.

  [30] Idem est ergo presbyter qui episcopus, et antequam diaboli
  instinctu studia in religione fierent. ... communi presbyterorum
  concilio Ecclesiæ gubernabantur. Indifferenter de episcopo quasi de
  presbytero est loquntus (Paulus) .... sciant episcopi se, magis
  consuetudine quam dispositionis dominicæ veritate, presbyteris esse
  majores. (Hieronymus ad Titum, i. 5.) A presbyter accordingly is the
  same as a bishop, and before that by a suggestion of the devil, party
  strife entered into religion..... the churches were governed by a
  common council of presbyters. Paul spake without any distinction
  between bishops and presbyters..... the bishops know that it is to
  custom rather than to any actual direction of the Lord that they owe
  their superiority to presbyters.

  [31] Bishop Munter makes this remark in his dissertation _On the
  Ancient British Church_, about the primitive identity of bishops and
  priests, and episcopal consecration. _Stud. und Krit._ an. 1833.

[Sidenote: CONTINENTAL MISSIONS.]

The missionary fire, which the grandson of Fergus had kindled in a
solitary island, soon spread over Great Britain. Not in Iona alone,
but at Bangor and other places, the spirit of evangelization burst
out. A fondness for travelling had already become a second nature in
this people.[32] Men of God, burning with zeal, resolved to carry the
evangelical torch to the continent--to the vast wildernesses sprinkled
here and there with barbarous and heathen tribes. They did not set
forth as antagonists of Rome, for at that epoch there was no place for
such antagonism; but Iona and Bangor, less illustrious than Rome in
the history of nations, possessed a more lively faith than the city of
the Cæsars; and that faith,--unerring sign of the presence of Jesus
Christ,--gave those whom it inspired a right to evangelize the world,
which Rome could not gainsay.

  [32] Natio Scotorum quibus consuetudo peregrinandi jam pæne in naturam
  conversa est. (Vita S. Galli, Sec. 47.) The nation of the Scots in
  whom the habit of travelling abroad had already almost become a second
  nature.

The missionary bishops[33] of Britain accordingly set forth and
traversed the Low Countries, Gaul, Switzerland, Germany, and even
Italy.[34] The free church of the Scots and Britons did more for the
conversion of central Europe than the half-enslaved church of the
Romans. These missionaries were not haughty and insolent like the
priests of Italy; but supported themselves by the work of their hands.
Columbanus (whom we must not confound with Columba),[35] "feeling in
his heart the burning of the fire which the Lord had kindled upon
earth,"[36] quitted Bangor in 590 with twelve other missionaries, and
carried the Gospel to the Burgundians, Franks, and Swiss. He continued
to preach it amidst frequent persecutions, left his disciple Gall in
Helvetia, and retired to Robbio, where he died, honouring Christian
Rome, but placing the church of Jerusalem above it,[37]--exhorting it
to beware of corruption, and declaring that the power would remain
with it so long only as it retained the true doctrine (_recta ratio_).
Thus was Britain faithful in planting the standard of Christ in the
heart of Europe. We might almost imagine this unknown people to be a
new Israel, and Icolmkill and Bangor to have inherited the virtues of
Zion.

  [33] They were called _episcopi regionarii_ because they had no
  settled diocese.

  [34] Antiquo tempore, doctissimi solebant magistri de Hibernia
  Britanniam, Galliam, Italiam venire, et multos per ecclesias Christi
  fecisse profectus. (Alcuin, Epp. ccxxi.) In ancient times the most
  learned teachers were accustomed to come from Ireland to Britain,
  Gaul, and Italy, and to make numerous journeys among the churches of
  Christ.

  [35] Thierry, in his _Hist. de la Conquete de l'Angleterre_, makes
  Columba and Columbanus one personage. Columba preached the Gospel in
  Scotland about 560, and died in 597; Columbanus preached among the
  Burgundians in 600, and died in 615.

  [36] Ignitum igne Domini desiderium. Mabillon, Acta, p. 9.

  [37] Salva loci dominicæ resurrectionis _singulari proerogativa_.
  (Columb. Vita, section 10.) Excepting by its peculiar prerogative the
  place of the Lord's resurrection.

Yet they should have done more: they should have preached--not only to
the continental heathens, to those in the north of Scotland and the
distant Ireland, but also to the still pagan Saxons of England. It is
true that they made several attempts; but while the Britons considered
their conquerors as the enemies of God and man, and shuddered while
they pronounced their name,[38] the Saxons refused to be converted by
the voice of their slaves. By neglecting this field, the Britons left
room for other workmen, and thus it was that England yielded to a
foreign power, beneath whose heavy yoke it long groaned in vain.

  [38] Nefandi nominis Saxoni Deo hominibusque invisi. (Gildas, De
  excidio Britanniæ.) The execrable name of Saxon, hateful to God and
  men.




CHAPTER II.

     Pope Gregory the Great--Desires to reduce Britain--Policy of
     Gregory and Augustine--Arrival of the
     Mission--Appreciation--Britain superior to Rome--Dionoth at
     Bangor--First and Second Romish Aggressions--Anguish of the
     Britons--Pride of Rome--Rome has recourse to the
     Sword--Massacre--Saint Peter scourges an
     Archbishop--Oswald--His Victory--Corman--Mission of Oswald
     and Aidan--Death of Oswald.


[Sidenote: GREGORY THE GREAT.]

It is matter of fact that the spiritual life had waned in Italian
catholicism; and in proportion as the heavenly spirit had become weak,
the lust of dominion had grown strong. The Roman metropolitans and
their delegates soon became impatient to mould all Christendom to
their peculiar forms.

About the end of the sixth century an eminent man filled the see of
Rome. Gregory was born of senatorial family, and already on the high
road to honour, when he suddenly renounced the world, and transformed
the palace of his fathers into a convent. But his ambition had only
changed its object. In his views, the whole church should submit to
the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of Rome. True, he rejected the title
of universal bishop assumed by the patriarch of Constantinople; but if
he desired not the name, he was not the less eager for the
substance.[39] On the borders of the West, in the island of Great
Britain, was a Christian church independent of Rome: this must be
conquered, and a favourable opportunity soon occurred.

  [39] He says (Epp. lib. ix, ep. xii.): De Constantinopolitana ecclesia
  quis eam dubitet apostolicæ sedi esse subjectam? Concerning the church
  of Constantinople, who doubts that it is subject to the apostolical
  see.

[Sidenote: POLICY OF GREGORY AND AUGUSTINE.]

Before his elevation to the primacy, and while he was as yet only the
monk Gregory, he chanced one day to cross a market in Rome where
certain foreign dealers were exposing their wares for sale. Among them
he perceived some fair-haired youthful slaves, whose noble bearing
attracted his attention. On drawing near them, he learned that the
Anglo-Saxon nation to which they belonged had refused to receive the
Gospel from the Britons. When he afterwards became bishop of Rome,
this crafty and energetic pontiff, "the last of the good and the first
of the bad," as he has been called, determined to convert these proud
conquerors, and make use of them in subduing the British church to
the papacy, as he had already made use of the Frank monarchs to reduce
the Gauls. Rome has often shown herself more eager to bring Christians
rather than idolaters to the pope.[40] Was it thus with Gregory? We
must leave the question unanswered.

  [40] We know the history of Tahiti and of other modern missions of the
  Romish church.

Ethelbert, king of Kent, having married a Christian princess of Frank
descent, the Roman bishop thought the conjuncture favourable for his
design, and despatched a mission under the direction of one of his
friends named Augustine, A.D. 596. At first the missionaries recoiled
from the task appointed them; but Gregory was firm. Desirous of
gaining the assistance of the Frank kings, Theodoric and Theodebert,
he affected to consider them as the lords paramount of England, and
commended to them the conversion of _their subjects_.[41] Nor was this
all. He claimed also the support of the powerful Brunchilda,
grandmother of these two kings, and equally notorious for her
treachery, her irregularities, and her crimes; and did not scruple to
extol the _good works_ and _godly fear_ of this modern Jezebel.[42]
Under such auspices the Romish mission arrived in England. The pope
had made a skilful choice of his delegate. Augustine possessed even to
a greater extent than Gregory himself a mixture of ambition and
devotedness, of superstition and piety, of cunning and zeal. He
thought that faith and holiness were less essential to the church than
authority and power; and that its prerogative was not so much to save
souls as to collect all the human race under the sceptre of Rome.[43]
Gregory himself was distressed at Augustine's spiritual pride, and
often exhorted him to humility.

  [41] Subjectos vestros. (Opp. Gregorii, tom. iv. p 334.) Your
  subjects.

  [42] Prona in bonis operibus . . . in omnipotentis Dei timore. (Ibid.
  tom. ii. p. 835.) Disposed to good works . . . in the fear of God
  omnipotent.

  [43] We find the same idea in Wiseman, Lect. ix, On the principal
  doctrines and practices of the Catholic church. London, 1836.

Success of that kind which popery desires soon crowned the labours of
its servants. The forty-one missionaries having landed in the isle of
Thanet, in the year 597, the king of Kent consented to receive them,
but in the open air, for fear of magic. They drew up in such a manner
as to produce an effect on the rude islanders. The procession was
opened by a monk bearing a huge cross on which the figure of Christ
was represented: his colleagues followed chanting their Latin hymns,
and thus they approached the oak appointed for the place of
conference. They inspired sufficient confidence in Ethelbert to gain
permission to celebrate their worship in an old ruinous chapel at
Durovern (Canterbury), where British Christians had in former times
adored the Saviour Christ. The king and thousands of his subjects
received not long after, with certain forms, and certain Christian
doctrines, the errors of the Roman pontiffs--as purgatory, for
instance, which Gregory was advocating with the aid of the most absurd
fables.[44] Augustine baptized ten thousand pagans in one day. As yet
Rome had only set her foot in Great Britain, she did not fail erelong
to establish her kingdom there.

  [44] Hoepfner, De origine dogmatis de purgatorio. Halle, 1792.

We should be unwilling to undervalue the religious element now placed
before the Anglo-Saxons, and we can readily believe that many of the
missionaries sent from Italy desired to work a Christian work. We
think, too, that the Middle Ages ought to be appreciated with more
equitable sentiments than have always been found in the persons who
have written on that period. Man's conscience lived, spoke, and
groaned during the long dominion of popery; and like a plant growing
among thorns, it often succeeded in forcing a passage through the
obstacles of traditionalism and hierarchy, to blossom in the
quickening sun of God's grace. The Christian element is even strongly
marked in some of the most eminent men of theocracy--in Anselm for
instance.

[Sidenote: BRITAIN SUPERIOR TO ROME.]

Yet as it is our task to relate the history of the struggles which
took place between primitive Christianity and Roman-catholicism, we
cannot forbear pointing out the superiority of the former in a
religious light, while we acknowledge the superiority of the latter in
a political point of view. We believe (and we shall presently have a
proof of it)[45] that a visit to Iona would have taught the
Anglo-Saxons much more than their frequent pilgrimages to the banks of
the Tiber. Doubtless, as has been remarked, these pilgrims
contemplated at Rome "the noble monuments of antiquity," but there
existed at that time in the British islands--and it has been too often
overlooked--a Christianity which, if not perfectly pure, was at least
better than that of popery. The British church, which at the beginning
of the seventh century carried faith and civilization into Burgundy,
the Vosges mountains, and Switzerland, might well have spread them
both over Britain. The influence of the arts, whose civilizing
influence we are far from depreciating, would have come later.

  [45] In the history of Oswald, king of Northumberland.

But so far was the Christianity of the Britons from converting the
Saxon heptarchy, that it was, alas! the Romanism of the heptarchy
which was destined to conquer Britain. These struggles between the
Roman and British churches, which fill all the seventh century, are of
the highest importance to the English church, for they establish
clearly its primitive liberty. They possess also great interest for
the other churches of the West, as showing in the most striking
characters the usurping acts by which the papacy eventually reduced
them beneath its yoke.

[Sidenote: DIONOTH AT BANGOR.]

Augustine, appointed archbishop not only of the Saxons, but of the
free Britons, was settled by papal ordinance, first at London and
afterwards at Canterbury. Being at the head of a hierarchy composed of
twelve bishops, he soon attempted to bring all the Christians of
Britain under the Roman jurisdiction. At that time there existed at
Bangor,[46] in North Wales, a large Christian society, amounting to
nearly three thousand individuals, collected together to work with
their own hands,[47] to study, and to pray, and from whose bosom
numerous missionaries (Columbanus was among the number) had from time
to time gone forth. The president of this church was Dionoth, a
faithful teacher, ready to serve all men in charity, yet firmly
convinced that no one should have supremacy in the Lord's vineyard.
Although one of the most influential men in the British church, he was
somewhat timid and hesitating; he would yield to a certain point for
the love of peace; but would never flinch from his duty. He was
another apostle John, full of mildness, and yet condemning the
Diotrephes, _who love to have pre-eminence among the brethren_.
Augustine thus addressed him: "Acknowledge the authority of the Bishop
of Rome." These are the first words of the papacy to the ancient
Christians of Britain. "We desire to love all men," meekly replied the
venerable Briton; "and what we do for you, we will do for him also
whom you call the pope. But he is not entitled to call himself the
_father of fathers_, and the only submission we can render him is that
which we owe to every Christian."[48] This was not what Augustine
asked.

  [46] Bann-cor, the choir on the steep hill. Carlisle. Top. Dict.
  Wales.

  [47] Ars unicuique dabatur, ut ex opero manuum quotidiano se posset in
  victu necessario continere. (Preuves de l'hist de Bretagne, ii, 25.)
  An art was given to each, that by the daily labour of their hands,
  each might be able to supply himself with the necessities of life.

  [48] Istam obedientiam nos multius parati dare et solvere ei et cuique
  Christiano continuo Wilkins, Conc, M. Brit. i. 26.

[Sidenote: SECOND ROMISH AGGRESSION.]

He was not discouraged by this first check. Proud of the pallium
which Rome had sent him, and relying on the swords of the
Anglo-Saxons, he convoked in 601 a general assembly of British and
Saxon bishops. The meeting took place in the open air, beneath a
venerable oak near Wigornia (Worcester or Hereford), and here occurred
the second Romish aggression. Dionoth resisted with firmness the
extravagant pretensions of Augustine, who again summoned him to
recognize the authority of Rome.[49] Another Briton protested against
the presumption of the Romans, who ascribed to their consecration a
virtue which they refused to that of Iona or of the Asiatic
churches.[50] "The Britons," exclaimed a third, "cannot submit either
to the haughtiness of the Romans or the tyranny of the Saxons."[51] To
no purpose did the archbishop lavish his arguments, prayers, censures,
and miracles even; the Britons were firm. Some of them who had eaten
with the Saxons while they were as yet heathens, refused to do so now
that they had submitted to the pope.[52] The Scotch were particularly
inflexible; for one of their number, by name Dagam, would not only
take no food at the same table with the Romans, but not even under the
same roof.[53] Thus did Augustine fail a second time, and the
independence of Britain appeared secure.

  [49] Dionothus de non approbanda apud eos Romanorum auctoritate
  disputabat. Wilkins, Conc. M. Brit. 24.

  [50] Ordinationesque more asiatico eisdem contulisse. Ibid. 24.

  [51] In communionem admittere vel Romanorum fastum vel Saxonum
  tyrannidem. Ibid. i, 26.

  [52] According to the apostolic precept, 1 Cor. 5, 9. 1.

  [53] Dagamus ad nos veniens, non solum cibum nobiscum, sed nec in
  eodem hospitio quo vescebamur, sumere, noluit. (Beda, lib. ii, cap.
  iv.) Dagam coming to us, not only refused to eat with us, but even to
  take his food in the same house where we were entertained.

[Sidenote: PRIDE OF ROME.]

And yet the formidable power of the popes, aided by the sword of the
conquerors, alarmed the Britons. They imagined they saw a mysterious
decree once more yoking the nations of the earth to the triumphal car
of Rome, and many left Wigornia uneasy and sad at heart. How is it
possible to save a cause, when even its defenders begin to despair? It
was not long before they were summoned to a new council. "What is to
be done?" they exclaimed with sorrowful forebodings. Popery was not
yet thoroughly known: it was hardly formed. The half-enlightened
consciences of these believers were a prey to the most violent
agitation. They asked themselves whether, in rejecting this new power,
they might not be rejecting God himself. A pious Christian, who led a
solitary life, had acquired a great reputation in the surrounding
district. Some of the Britons visited him, and inquired whether they
should resist Augustine or follow him.[54] "If he is a man of God,
follow him," replied the hermit.--"And how shall we know that?"--"If
he is meek and humble of heart, he bears Christ's yoke; but if he is
violent and proud, he is not of God."--"What sign shall we have of his
humility?"--"If he rises from his seat when you enter the room." Thus
spoke the oracle of Britain: it would have been better to have
consulted the Holy Scriptures.

  [54] Ad quendam virum sanctum et prudentam qui apud eos anachoreticam
  ducere vitam solebat, consulentes an ad prædicationem Augustini suas
  deserere traditiones deberent. (Beda, Hist. Eccl. lib. ii. cap. ii.)
  They took counsel of a certain holy and wise man who led among them
  the life of a hermit, whether at the preaching of Augustine they ought
  to abandon their own traditions.

But humility is not a virtue that flourishes among Romish pontiffs and
legates: they love to remain seated while others court and worship
them. The British bishops entered the council-hall, and the
archbishop, desirous of indicating his superiority, proudly kept his
seat.[55] Astonished at this sight, the Britons would hear no more of
the authority of Rome. For the third time they said No--they knew _no
other master but Christ_. Augustine, who expected to see these bishops
prostrate their churches at his feet, was surprised and indignant. He
had reckoned on the immediate submission of Britain, and the pope had
now to learn that his missionary had deceived him.... Animated by that
insolent spirit which is found too often in the ministers of the
Romish church, Augustine exclaimed: "If you will not receive brethren
who bring you peace, you shall receive enemies who will bring you war.
If you will not unite with us in showing the Saxons the way of life,
you shall receive from them the stroke of death."[56] Having thus
spoken, the haughty archbishop withdrew, and occupied his last days in
preparing the accomplishment of his ill-omened prophecy.[57] Argument
had failed: now for the sword!

  [55] Factumque est ut venientibus illis sederet Augustinus in sella.
  Ibid.

  [56] Si pacem cum fructibus accipere nollent, bellum ab hostibus
  forent accepturi ... Ibid.

  [57] Ipsum Augustinum hujus belli non modo conscium sed et
  _impulsorem_ exstitisse. Wilkins adds, that the expression found in
  Bede, concerning the death of Augustine, is a parenthesis foisted in
  by Romanist writers, and not found in the Saxon manuscripts. (Conc.
  Brit. p. 26.) Augustine himself was not only accessory to that war,
  but he was even its instigator.

[Sidenote: MASSACRE.]

Shortly after the death of Augustine, Edelfrid, one of the Anglo-Saxon
kings, and who was still a heathen, collected a numerous army, and
advanced towards Bangor, the centre of British Christianity. Alarm
spread through those feeble churches. They wept and prayed. The sword
of Edelfrid drew nearer. To whom can they apply, or where shall they
find help? The magnitude of the danger seemed to recall the Britons to
their pristine piety: not to men, but to the Lord himself will they
turn their thoughts. Twelve hundred and fifty servants of the living
God, calling to mind what are the arms of Christian warfare, after
preparing themselves by fasting, met together in a retired spot to
send up their prayers to God.[58] A British chief, named Brocmail,
moved by tender compassion, stationed himself near them with a few
soldiers; but the cruel Edelfrid, observing from a distance this band
of kneeling Christians, demanded: "Who are these people, and what are
they doing?" On being informed, he added: "They are fighting then
against us, although unarmed;" and immediately he ordered his soldiers
to fall upon the prostrate crowd. Twelve hundred of them were
slain.[59] They prayed and they died. The Saxons forthwith proceeded
to Bangor, the chief seat of Christian learning, and razed it to the
ground. Romanism was triumphant in England. The news of these
massacres filled the country _with weeping and great mourning_; but
the priests of Romish consecration (and the venerable Bede shared
their sentiments) beheld in this cruel slaughter the accomplishment of
the prophecy of the _holy pontiff_ Augustine;[60] and a national
tradition among the Welsh for many ages pointed to him as the
instigator of this cowardly butchery. Thus did Rome loose the savage
Pagan against the primitive church of Britain, and fastened it all
dripping with blood to her triumphal car. A great mystery of iniquity
was accomplishing.

  [58] Ad memoratam aciem, peracto jejunio triduano, cum aliis orandi
  causa convenerant. (Beda, ii, cap. ii.) At the aforesaid engagement,
  after three days had been spent in fasting, they met together with
  others for prayer.

  [59] Extinctos in ea pugna ferunt de his qui ad orandum venerunt viros
  circiter mille ducentos. Beda, lib. ii, cap. ii.

  [60] Sic completum est presagium sancti pontificis Augustini. Ibid.

But while the Saxon sword appeared to have swept every thing from
before the papacy, the ground trembled under its feet, and seemed
about to swallow it up. The hierarchical rather than Christian
conversions effected by the priests of Rome were so unreal that a vast
number of neophytes suddenly returned to the worship of their idols.
Eadbald, king of Kent, was himself among the number of apostates. Such
reversions to paganism are not unfrequent in the history of the Romish
missions. The bishops fled into Gaul: Mellitus and Justus had already
reached the continent in safety, and Lawrence, Augustine's successor,
was about to follow them. While lying in the church where he had
desired to pass the night before leaving England, he groaned in spirit
as he saw the work founded by Augustine perishing in his hands. He
saved it by a miracle. The next morning he presented himself before
the king with his clothes all disordered and his body covered with
wounds. "Saint Peter," he said, "appeared to me during the night and
scourged me severely because I was about to forsake his flock."[61]
The _scourge_ was a means of moral persuasion which Peter had
forgotten in his epistles. Did Lawrence cause these blows to be
inflicted by others--or did he inflict them himself--or is the whole
account an idle dream? We should prefer adopting the latter
hypothesis. The superstitious prince, excited at the news of this
supernatural intervention, eagerly acknowledged the authority of the
pope, the vicar of an apostle who so mercilessly scourged those who
had the misfortune to displease him. If the dominion of Rome had then
disappeared from England, it is probable that the Britons, regaining
their courage, and favoured in other respects by the wants which would
have been felt by the Saxons, would have recovered from their defeat,
and would have imparted their free Christianity to their conquerors.
But now the Roman bishop seemed to remain master of England, and the
faith of the Britons to be crushed for ever. But it was not so. A
young man, sprung from the energetic race of the conquerors, was about
to become the champion of truth and liberty, and almost the whole
island to be freed from the Roman yoke.

  [61] Apparuit ei beatissimus apostolorum princeps, et multo illum
  tempore secretæ noctis flagellis acrioribus afficiens. Beda, ii. cap.
  vi.

[Sidenote: OSWALD.]

[Sidenote: OSWALD'S VICTORY--CORMAN.]

Oswald, an Anglo-Saxon prince, son of the heathen and cruel Edelfrid,
had been compelled by family reverses to take refuge in Scotland, when
very young, accompanied by his brother Oswy and several other youthful
chiefs. He had acquired the language of the country, been instructed
in the truths of Holy Writ, converted by the grace of God, and
baptized into the Scottish church.[62] He loved to sit at the feet of
the elders of Iona and listen to their words. They showed him Jesus
Christ going from place to place doing good, and he desired to do so
likewise; they told him that Christ was the only head of the church,
and he promised never to acknowledge any other. Being a single-hearted
generous man, he was especially animated with tender compassion
towards the poor, and would take off his own cloak to cover the
nakedness of one of his brethren. Often, while mingling in the quiet
assemblies of the Scottish Christians, he had desired to go as a
missionary to the Anglo-Saxons. It was not long before he conceived
the bold design of leading the people of Northumberland to the
Saviour; but being a prince as well as a Christian, he determined to
begin by reconquering the throne of his fathers. There was in this
young Englishman the love of a disciple and the courage of a hero. At
the head of an army, small indeed, but strong by faith in Christ,[63]
he entered Northumberland, knelt with his troops in prayer on the
field of battle, and gained a signal victory over a powerful enemy,
634 A. D. To recover the kingdom of his ancestors was only a part of
his task. Oswald desired to give his people the benefits of the true
faith.[64] The Christianity taught in 625 to King Edwin and the
Northumbrians by Pendin of York had disappeared amidst the ravages of
the pagan armies. Oswald requested a missionary from the Scots who had
given him an asylum, and they accordingly sent one of the brethren
named Corman, a pious but uncultivated and austere man. He soon
returned dispirited to Iona: "The people to whom you sent me," he told
the elders of that island, "are so obstinate that we must renounce all
idea of changing their manners." As Aidan, one of their number,
listened to this report, he said to himself: "If thy love had been
offered to this people, oh, my Saviour, many hearts would have been
touched!... I will go and make Thee known--Thee who breaketh not the
bruised reed!" Then, turning to the missionary with a look of mild
reproach, he added: "Brother, you have been too severe towards hearers
so dull of heart. You should have given them spiritual milk to drink
until they were able to receive more solid food." All eyes were fixed
on the man who spoke so wisely. "Aidan is worthy of the episcopate,"
exclaimed the brethren of Iona: and, like Timothy, he was consecrated
by the laying on of the hands of the company of elders.[65]

  [62] Cum magna nobilium juventute apud Scotos sive Pictos exulabant,
  ibique ad doctrinam Scottorum cathechisati et baptismatis gratia sunt
  recreati. (Beda, iii. cap. i.) They were exiled among the Scots or
  Picts with many youths of noble rank, and there they were instructed
  in the doctrine of the Scots and were converted by the grace of
  baptism.

  [63] Superveniente cum parvo exercitu, sed fide Christi munito. Beda,
  lib. iii, cap. i.

  [64] Desiderans totam cui præesse coepit gentem fidei Christianæ gratia
  imbui. (Ibid. cap. iii.) Desiring that the whole nation over which he
  ruled might be imbued with the grace of the Christian faith.

  [65] Aydanus accepto gradu episcopatus, quo tempore eodem monasterio
  Segenius abbas et _presbyter_ præfuit. (Beda, lib. iii, cap. v.) Aidan
  having received the dignity of a bishop at the time when Segenius,
  abbot and presbyter, presided over that monastery. When Bede tells us
  that a plain priest was president, he excludes the idea that there
  were bishops in the assembly. See 1 Timothy, iv, 14.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF OSWALD.]

Oswald received Aidan as an angel from heaven, and as the missionary
was ignorant of the Saxon language, the king accompanied him every
where, standing by his side, and interpreting his gentle
discourses.[66] The people crowded joyfully around Oswald, Aidan, and
other missionaries from Scotland and Ireland, listening eagerly to
the _Word of God_.[67] The king preached by his works still more than
by his words. One day during Easter, as he was about to take his seat
at table, he was informed that a crowd of his subjects, driven by
hunger, had collected before his palace gates. Instantly he ordered
the food prepared for himself to be carried out and distributed among
them; and taking the silver vessels which stood before him, he broke
them in pieces and commanded his servants to divide them among the
poor. He also introduced the knowledge of the Saviour to the people of
Wessex, whither he had gone to marry the king's daughter; and after a
reign of nine years, he died at the head of his army while repelling
an invasion of the idolatrous Mercians, headed by the cruel Penda (5th
August, 642 A. D.) As he fell he exclaimed: "Lord, have mercy on the
souls of my people!" This youthful prince has left a name dear to the
churches of Great Britain.

  [66] Evangelisante antistite, ipse Rex suis ducibus ac ministris
  interpres verbi existeret coelestis. (Beda, lib. iii, cap. iii.) When
  the bishop was preaching, the king himself interpreted the heavenly
  message to his officers and servants.

  [67] Confluebant _ad audiendum verbum Dei_ populi gaudentes. (Beda,
  lib. iii, cap. iii.) The people eagerly flocked together to hear the
  word of God.

His death did not interrupt the labours of the missionaries. Their
meekness and the recollection of Oswald endeared them to all. As soon
as the villagers caught sight of one on the high-road, they would
throng round him, begging him to teach them the _Word of life_.[68]
The faith which the terrible Edelfrid thought he had washed away in
the blood of the worshippers of God, was re-appearing in every
direction; and Rome, which once already in the days of Honorius had
been forced to leave Britain, might be perhaps a second time compelled
to flee to its ships from before the face of a people who asserted
their liberty.

  [68] Mox congregati in unum vicani, _verbum vitæ_ ab illo expetere
  curabant. (Beda, lib. iii, cap. xxvi.) Presently the villagers flocked
  together earnestly desiring to hear from him the word of life.




CHAPTER III.

     Character of Oswy--Death of Aidan--Wilfrid at Rome--At
     Oswald's Court--Finan and Colman--Independence of the Church
     attacked--Oswy's Conquests and Troubles--_Synodus
     Pharensis_--Cedda--Degeneration--The Disputation--Peter, the
     Gatekeeper--Triumph of Rome--Grief of the Britons--Popedom
     organized in England--Papal Exultation--Archbishop
     Theodore--Cedda re-ordained--Discord in the Church--Disgrace
     and Treachery of Wilfrid--His end--Scotland
     attacked--Adamnan--Iona resists--A King converted by
     Architects--The Monk Egbert at Iona--His History--Monkish
     Visions--Fall of Iona.


[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF OSWY.]

Then up rose the papacy. If victory remained with the Britons, their
church, becoming entirely free, might even in these early times head a
strong opposition against the papal monarchy. If, on the contrary, the
last champions of liberty are defeated, centuries of slavery awaited
the Christian church. We shall have to witness the struggle that took
place erelong in the very palace of the Northumbrian kings.

Oswald was succeeded by his brother Oswy, a prince instructed in the
free doctrine of the Britons, but whose religion was all external. His
heart overflowed with ambition, and he shrank from no crime that might
increase his power. The throne of Deira was filled by his relative
Oswin, an amiable king, much beloved by his people. Oswy, conceiving a
deadly jealousy towards him, marched against him at the head of an
army, and Oswin, desirous of avoiding bloodshed, took shelter with a
chief whom he had loaded with favours. But the latter offered to lead
Oswy's soldiers to his hiding-place; and at dead of night the fugitive
king was basely assassinated, one only of his servants fighting in his
defence. The gentle Aidan died of sorrow at his cruel fate.[69] Such
was the first exploit of that monarch who surrendered England to the
papacy. Various circumstances tended to draw Oswy nearer Rome. He
looked upon the Christian religion as a means of combining the
Christian princes against the heathen Penda, and such a religion, in
which expediency predominated, was not very unlike popery. And
further, Oswy's wife, the proud Eanfeld, was of the Romish communion.
The private chaplain of this bigoted princess was a priest named
Romanus, a man worthy of the name. He zealously maintained the rites
of the Latin church, and accordingly the festival of Easter was
celebrated at court twice in the year; for while the king, following
the eastern rule, was joyfully commemorating the resurrection of our
Lord, the queen, who adopted the Roman ritual, was keeping Palm Sunday
with fasting and humiliation.[70] Eanfeld and Romanus would often
converse together on the means of winning over Northumberland to the
papacy. But the first step was to increase the number of its
partizans, and the opportunity soon occurred.

  [69] Aydanus duodecimo post occisionem regis quem amabat die, de
  seculo ablatus. (Beda, lib. iii, cap. xiv.) Aidan on his twelfth day
  after the death of the king whom he loved, was taken out of the world.

  [70] Cum rex pascha dominicum solutis jejuniis faceret, tunc regina
  cum suis persistens adhuc in jejunio diem l'almarum celebraret. (Beda,
  lib. iii, cap. xxv.) When the king having ended the time of fasting,
  was keeping Easter, the queen with her attendants still fasting, was
  celebrating Palm Sunday.

[Sidenote: WILFRID AT ROME.]

A young Northumbrian, named Wilfrid, was one day admitted to an
audience of the queen. He was a comely man, of extensive knowledge,
keen wit, and enterprising character, of indefatigible activity, and
insatiable ambition.[71] In this interview he remarked to Eanfeld:
"The way which the Scotch teach us is not perfect; I will go to Rome
and learn in the very temples of the apostles." She approved of his
project, and with her assistance and directions he set out for Italy.
Alas! he was destined at no very distant day to chain the whole
British church to the Roman see. After a short stay at Lyons, where
the bishop, delighted at his talents, would have desired to keep him,
he arrived at Rome, and immediately became on the most friendly
footing with archdeacon Boniface, the pope's favourite councillor. He
soon discovered that the priests of France and Italy possessed more
power both in ecclesiastical and secular matters than the humble
missionaries of Iona; and his thirst for honours was inflamed at the
court of the pontiffs. If he should succeed in making England submit
to the papacy, there was no dignity to which he might not aspire.
Henceforward this was his only thought, and he had hardly returned to
Northumberland before Eanfeld eagerly summoned him to court. A
fanatical queen, from whom he might hope every thing--a king with no
religious convictions, and enslaved by political interests--a pious
and zealous prince, Alfred, the king's son, who was desirous of
imitating his noble uncle Oswald, and converting the pagans, but who
had neither the discernment nor the piety of the illustrious disciple
of Iona: such were the materials Wilfrid had to work upon. He saw
clearly that if Rome had gained her first victory by the sword of
Edelfrid, she could only expect to gain a second by craft and
management. He came to an understanding on the subject with the queen
and Romanus, and having been placed about the person of the young
prince, by adroit flattery he soon gained over Alfred's mind. Then
finding himself secure of two members of the royal family, he turned
all his attention to Oswy.

  [71] Acris erat ingenii.....gratia venusti vultus, alacritate
  actionis. Beda, lib. v, p. 135.

[Sidenote: AND AT OSWY'S COURT.]

The elders of Iona could not shut their eyes to the dangers which
threatened Northumberland. They had sent Finan to supply Aidan's
place, and this bishop, consecrated by the presbyters of Iona, had
witnessed the progress of popery at the court; at first humble and
inoffensive, and then increasing year by year in ambition and
audacity. He had openly opposed the pontiff's agents, and his frequent
contests had confirmed him in the truth.[72] He was dead, and the
presbyters of the Western Isles, seeing more clearly than ever the
wants of Northumbria, had sent thither bishop Colman, a simple-minded,
but stout-hearted man,--one determined to oppose a front of adamant to
the wiles of the seducers.

  [72] Apertum veritatis adversarium reddidit, says the Romanist Bede,
  lib. v. p. 135. Had rendered him an open enemy of the truth.

Yet Eanfeld, Wilfrid, and Romanus were skilfully digging the mine that
was to destroy the apostolic church of Britain. At first Wilfrid
prepared his attack by adroit insinuations; and next declared himself
openly in the king's presence. If Oswy withdrew into his domestic
circle, he there found the bigoted Eanfeld, who zealously continued
the work of the Roman missionary. No opportunities were neglected: in
the midst of the diversions of the court, at table, and even during
the chase, discussions were perpetually raised on the controverted
doctrines. Men's minds became excited: the Romanists already assumed
the air of conquerors; and the Britons often withdrew full of anxiety
and fear. The king, placed between his wife and his faith, and wearied
by these disputes, inclined first to one side, and then to the other,
as if he would soon fall altogether.

[Sidenote: SYNODUS PHARENSIS.]

The papacy had more powerful motives than ever for coveting
Northumberland. Oswy had not only usurped the throne of Deira, but
after the death of the cruel Penda, who fell in battle in 654, he had
conquered his states with the exception of a portion governed by his
son-in-law Peada, the son of Penda. But Peada himself having fallen in
a conspiracy said to have been got up by his wife, the daughter of
Oswy, the latter completed the conquest of Mercia, and thus united the
greatest part of England under his sceptre. Kent alone at that time
acknowledged the jurisdiction of Rome: in every other province, free
ministers, protected by the kings of Northumberland, preached the
Gospel. This wonderfully simplified the question. If Rome gained over
Oswy, she would gain England: if she failed, she must sooner or later
leave that island altogether.

This was not all. The blood of Oswyn, the premature death of Aidan,
and other things besides, troubled the king's breast. He desired to
appease the Deity he had offended, and not knowing that _Christ is the
door_, as holy Scripture tells us, he sought among men for a
_doorkeeper_ who would open to him the kingdom of heaven. He was far
from being the last of those kings whom the necessity of expiating
their crimes impelled towards Romish practices. The crafty Wilfrid,
keeping alive both the hopes and fears of the prince, often spoke to
him of Rome, and of the grace to be found there. He thought that the
fruit was ripe, and that now he had only to shake the tree. "We must
have a public disputation, in which the question may be settled once
for all," said the queen and her advisers; "but Rome must take her
part in it with as much pomp as her adversaries. Let us oppose bishop
to bishop." A Saxon bishop named Agilbert, a friend of Wilfrid's, who
had won the affection of the young prince Alfred, was invited by
Eanfeld to the conference, and he arrived in Northumberland attended
by a priest named Agathon. Alas! poor British church, the earthen
vessel is about to be dashed against the vase of iron. Britain must
yield before the invading march of Rome.

On the coast of Yorkshire, at the farther extremity of a quiet bay,
was situated the monastery of Strenæshalh, or Whitby, of which Hilda,
the pious daughter of king Edwin, was abbess. She, too, was desirous
of seeing a termination of the violent disputes which had agitated the
church since Wilfrid's return. On the shores of the North Sea[73] the
struggle was to be decided between Britain and Rome, between the East
and the West, or, as they said then, between Saint John and Saint
Peter. It was not a mere question about Easter, or certain rules of
discipline, but of the great doctrine of the freedom of the church
under Jesus Christ, or its enslavement under the papacy. Rome, ever
domineering, desired for the second time to hold England in its
grasp, not by means of the sword, but by her dogmas. With her usual
cunning she concealed her enormous pretensions under secondary
questions, and many superficial thinkers were deceived by this
manoeuvre.

  [73] This conference is generally known as the _Synodus Pharensis_
  (from _Strenæshalh_, sinus Phari). "Hodie Whitbie dicitur (White bay),
  et est villa in Eboracensi littore satis nota" Wilkius, Concii. p. 37,
  note.

[Sidenote: CEDDA.]

The meeting took place in the convent of Whitby. The king and his son
entered first; then, on the one side, Colman, with the bishops and
elders of the Britons; and on the other bishop Agilbert, Agathon,
Wilfrid, Romanus, a deacon named James, and several other priests of
the Latin confession. Last of all came Hilda with her attendants,
among whom was an English bishop named Cedda, one of the most active
missionaries of the age.[74] He had at first preached the Gospel in
the midland districts, whence he turned his footsteps towards the
Anglo-Saxons of the East, and after converting a great number of these
pagans, he had returned to Finan, and, although an Englishman, had
received Episcopal consecration from a bishop, who had been himself
ordained by the elders of Iona. Then proceeding westwards, the
indefatigable evangelist founded churches, and appointed elders and
deacons wherever he went.[75] By birth an Englishman, by ordination a
Scotchman, everywhere treated with respect and consideration, he
appeared to be set apart as mediator in this solemn conference. His
intervention could not however, retard the victory of Rome. Alas! the
primitive evangelism had gradually given way to an ecclesiasticism,
coarse and rude in one place, subtle and insinuating in another.
Whenever the priests were called upon to justify certain doctrines or
ceremonies, instead of referring solely to the word of God, that
fountain of all light, they maintained that thus St. James did at
Jerusalem, St. Mark at Alexandria, St. John at Ephesus, or St. Peter
at Rome. They gave the name of _apostolical canons_, to rules which
the apostles had never known. They even went further than this: at
Rome and in the East, ecclesiasticism represented itself to be a law
of God, and from a state of weakness, it thus became a state of sin.
Some marks of this error were already beginning to appear in the
Christianity of the Britons.

  [74] Presbyteri Cedda et Adda et Berti Duina, quorum ultimus natione
  Scotus, cæteri fuere Angli. (Beda, lib. iii, cap. xxi) These
  presbyters were Cedda and Adda and Berti and Dinna, of whom the last
  was by nation a Scot, the rest were English.

  [75] Qui accepto gradu episcopatus et majore auctoritate coeptum opus
  explens, fecit per loca ecclesias, presbyteros et diaconos ordinavit.
  (Beda, lib. iii, cap. xxii.) Who having received the episcopal dignity
  and pursuing the work he had begun with more ample authority, built
  churches in various places, and ordained presbyters and deacons.

[Sidenote: THE DISPUTATION.]

King Oswy was the first to speak: "As servants of one and the same
God, we hope all to enjoy the same inheritance in heaven; why then
should we not have the same rule of life here below? Let us inquire
which is the true one, and follow it."... "Those who sent me hither as
bishop," said Colman, "and who gave me the rule which I observe, are
the beloved of God. Let us beware how we despise their teaching, for
it is the teaching of Columba, of the blessed evangelist John,[76] and
of the churches over which that apostle presided."

  [76] Ipsum est quod beatus evangelista Johannes, discipulus
  specialiter Domino dilectus. Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxv.

"As for us," boldly rejoined Wilfrid, for to him as to the most
skilful had bishop Agilbert intrusted the defence of their cause, "our
custom is that of Rome, where the holy apostles Peter and Paul taught;
we found it in Italy and Gaul, nay, it is spread over every nation.
Shall the Picts and Britons, cast on these two islands, on the very
confines of the ocean, dare to contend against the whole world?[77]
However holy your Columba may have been, will you prefer him to the
prince of the apostles, to whom Christ said, _Thou art Peter, and I
will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven_?"

  [77] Pictos dico ac Brittones, cum quibus de duabus ultimis oceani
  insulis, contra totum orbem stulto labore pugnant. Ibid.

[Sidenote: SORROW OF THE BRITONS.]

Wilfrid spoke with animation, and his words being skilfully adapted to
his audience, began to make them waver. He had artfully substituted
Columba for the apostle John, from whom the British church claimed
descent, and opposed to Saint Peter a plain elder of Iona. Oswy, whose
idol was power, could not hesitate between paltry bishops and that
pope of Rome who commanded the whole world. Already imagining he saw
Peter at the gates of paradise, with the keys in his hand, he
exclaimed with emotion: "Is it true, Colman, that these words were
addressed by our Lord to Saint Peter?" "It is true." "Can you prove
that similar powers were given to your Columba?" The bishop replied
"We cannot;" but he might have told the king: "John, whose doctrine we
follow, and indeed every disciple, has received in the same sense as
St. Peter the power to remit sins, to bind and to loose on earth and
in heaven."[78] But the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures was fading
away in Iona, and the unsuspecting Colman had not observed Wilfrid's
stratagem in substituting Columba for Saint John. Upon this Oswy,
delighted to yield to the continual solicitations of the queen, and
above all, to find some one who would admit him into the kingdom of
heaven, exclaimed: "Peter is the doorkeeper, I will obey him, lest
when I appear at the gate there should be no one to open it to
me."[79] The spectators, carried away by this royal confession,
hastened to give in their submission to the vicar of St. Peter.

  [78] John xx 23; Matth. xviii. 18.

  [79] Ne forte me adveniente ad fores regni coelorum, non sit qui
  reserat. Beda. lib. ii. cap. xxv.

Thus did Rome Triumph at the Whitby conference. Oswy forgot that the
Lord had said: _I am he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and
shutteth, and no man openeth_.[80] It was by ascribing to Peter the
servant, what belongs to Jesus Christ the master, that the papacy
reduced Britain. Oswy stretched out his hands, Rome riveted the
chains, and the liberty which Oswald had given his church seemed at
the last gasp.

  [80] John x, 9; Rev. iii, 7.

Colman saw with grief and consternation Oswy and his subjects bending
their knees before the foreign priests. He did not, however, despair
of the ultimate triumph of the truth. The apostolic faith could still
find shelter in the old sanctuaries of the British church in Scotland
and Ireland. Immovable in the doctrine he had received, and resolute
to uphold Christian liberty, Colman withdrew with those who would not
bend beneath the yoke of Rome, and returned to Scotland. Thirty
Anglo-Saxons, and a great number of Britons, shook off the dust of
their feet against the tents of the Romish priests. The hatred of
popery became more intense day by day among the remainder of the
Britons. Determined to repel its erroneous dogmas and its illegitimate
dominion, they maintained their communion with the Eastern Church,
which was more ancient than that of Rome. They shuddered as they saw
the red dragon of the Celts gradually retiring towards the western sea
from before the white dragon of the Saxons. They ascribed their
misfortunes to a horrible conspiracy planned by the iniquitous
ambition of the foreign monks, and the bards in their chants cursed
the negligent ministers who defended not the flock of the Lord against
the wolves of Rome.[81] But vain were the lamentations!

  [81] Horæ Britannicæ, b. ii, p. 277.

[Sidenote: PAPACY ORGANIZED IN BRITAIN.]

The Romish priests, aided by the queen, lost no time. Wilfrid, whom
Oswy desired to reward for his triumph, was named bishop of
Northumberland, and he immediately visited Paris to receive episcopal
consecration in due form. He soon returned, and proceeded with
singular activity to establish the Romish doctrine in all the
churches.[82] Bishop of a diocese extending from Edinburgh to
Northampton, enriched with the goods which had belonged to divers
monasteries, surrounded by a numerous train, served upon gold and
silver plate, Wilfrid congratulated himself on having espoused the
cause of the papacy; he offended every one who approached him by his
insolence, and taught England how wide was the difference between the
humble ministers of Iona and a Romish priest. At the same time Oswy,
coming to an understanding with the king of Kent, sent another priest
named Wighard to Rome to learn the pope's intentions respecting the
church in England, and to receive consecration as archbishop of
Canterbury. There was no episcopal ordination in England worthy of a
priest! In the meanwhile Oswy, with all the zeal of a new convert,
ceased not to repeat that "the Roman Church was the Catholic and
apostolic church," and thought night and day on the means of
converting his subjects, hoping thus (says a pope) to redeem his own
soul.[83]

  [82] Ipse perplura catholicæ observationis moderamina ecclesiis
  Anglorum sua doctrina contulit. (Beda, lib. iii, cap. xxvlii) He by
  his doctrine brought into the churches of England many rules of
  catholic observance.

  [83] Omnes subjectos suos meditatur die ac nocte ad fidem catholicam
  atque apostolicam pro suæ animæ redemptione converti. (Beda, lib. iii,
  cap. xxix.) He studies day and night that all his subjects may be
  converted to the catholic and apostolic faith, for the salvation of
  his own soul.

The arrival of this news at Rome created a great sensation. Vitalian,
who then filled the episcopal chair, and was as insolent to his
bishops as he was fawning and servile to the emperor, exclaimed with
transport: "Who would not be overjoyed![84] a king converted to the
true apostolic faith, a people that believes at last in Christ the
Almighty God!" For many long years this people had believed in Christ,
but they were now beginning to believe in the pope, and the pope will
soon make them forget Jesus the Saviour. Vitalian wrote to Oswy, and
sent him--not copies of the Holy Scriptures (which were already
becoming scarce at Rome), but--relics of the Saints Peter, John,
Lawrence, Gregory, and Pancratius; and being in an especial manner
desirous of rewarding Queen Eanfeld, to whom with Wilfrid belonged the
glory of this work, he offered her a cross, made, as he assured her,
out of the chains of St. Peter and St. Paul.[85] "Delay not," said the
pope in conclusion, "to reduce all your island under Jesus Christ," or
in other words, under the bishop of Rome.

  [84] Quis enim audiens hæc suavia non lætetur? Ibid.

  [85] Conjugi, nostræ spirituali filiæ, crucem...... (Beda, lib. iii.
  cap. xxix.) To your consort, our spiritual daughter, a cross.....

The essential thing, however, was to send an archbishop from Rome to
Britain; but Wighard was dead, and no one seemed willing to undertake
so long a journey.[86]

  [86] Minime voluimus nunc reperire pro longinquitate itineris. (Ibid.)
  On account of the length of the journey, we have not been able to
  find...

[Sidenote: ARCHBISHOP THEODORE]

There was not much zeal in the city, of the pontiffs: and the pope was
compelled to look out for a stranger. There happened at that time to
be in Rome a man of great reputation for learning, who had come from
the east, and adopted the rites and doctrines of the Latins in
exchange for the knowledge he had brought them. He was pointed out to
Vitalian as well qualified to be the metropolitan of England.
Theodore, for such was his name, belonging by birth to the churches of
Asia Minor, would be listened to by the Britons in preference to any
other, when he solicited them to abandon their oriental customs. The
Roman pontiff, however, fearful perhaps that he might yet entertain
some leaven of his former Greek doctrines, gave him as companion, or
rather as overseer, a zealous African monk named Adrian.[87]

  [87] Ut diligenter attenderet, ne quid ille contrarium veritati,
  fidei. Græcorum more, in ecclesiam cui præesset introduceret. (Beda,
  lib. iv. cap. i.) That he should constantly attend him, lest after the
  manner of the Greeks, he should introduce any thing contrary to the
  true faith into the church over which he presided.

Theodore began the great crusade against British Christianity, and
endeavouring to show the sincerity of his conversion by his zeal, he
traversed all England in company with Adrian,[88] every where imposing
on the people that ecclesiastical supremacy to which Rome is indebted
for her political supremacy. The superiority of character which
distinguished Saint Peter, Theodore transformed into a superiority of
office. For the jurisdiction of Christ and his word, he substituted
that of the bishop of Rome and of his decrees. He insisted on the
necessity of ordination by bishops who, in an unbroken chain, could
trace back their authority to the apostles themselves. The British
still maintained the validity of their consecration; but the number
was small of those who understood that pretended successors of the
apostles, who sometimes carry Satan in their hearts, are not true
ministers of Christ; that the one thing needful for the church is,
that the apostles themselves (and not their successors only) should
dwell in its bosom by their word, by their teaching, and by the Divine
Comforter who shall be with it for ever and ever.

  [88] Peragrata insula tota, rectum vivendi ordinem disseminabat.
  (Ibid. cap. ii.) He visited the whole island, and taught the right
  rule of life.

[Sidenote: DISCORD IN THE CHURCH.]

The grand defection now began: the best were sometimes the first to
yield. When Theodore met Cedda, who had been consecrated by a bishop
who had himself received ordination from the elders of Iona, he said
to him: "You have not been regularly ordained." Cedda, instead of
standing up boldly for the truth, gave way to a carnal modesty, and
replied: "I never thought myself worthy of the episcopate, and am
ready to lay it down."--"No," said Theodore, "you shall remain a
bishop, but I will consecrate you anew according to the catholic
ritual."[89] The British minister submitted. Rome triumphant felt
herself strong enough to deny the imposition of hands of the elders of
Iona, which she had hitherto recognised. The most stedfast believers
took refuge in Scotland.

  [89] Cum Ceadda Episcopum argueret non fuisse rite consecratum, ipse
  (Theodorus) ordinationem, ejus denuo catholica ratione consummavit.
  (Beda, lib. iv. cap. ii.) When he charged Cedda with not being a
  regularly ordained bishop, he (Theodore) himself completed his
  ordination after the catholic manner.

In this manner a church in some respects deficient, but still a church
in which the religious element held the foremost place, was succeeded
by another in which the clerical element predominated. This was soon
apparent: questions of authority and precedence, hitherto unknown
among the British Christians, were now of daily occurrence. Wilfrid,
who had fixed his residence at York, thought that no one deserved
better than he to be primate of all England; and Theodore on his part
was irritated at the haughty tone assumed by this bishop. During the
life of Oswy, peace was maintained, for Wilfrid was his favourite; but
ere long that prince fell ill; and, terrified by the near approach of
death, he vowed that if he recovered he would make a pilgrimage to
Rome and there end his days.[90] "If you will be my guide to the city
of the apostles," he said to Wilfrid, "I will give you a large sum of
money." But his vow was of no avail: Oswy died in the spring of the
year 670 A.D.

  [90] Ut si ab infirmitate salvaretur, etiam Romam venire, ibique ad
  loca sancta vitam finire. Beda, lib. iv. cap. ii.

[Sidenote: WILFRED'S DISGRACE AND END.]

The _Witan_ set aside Prince Alfred, and raised his youngest brother
Egfrid to the throne. The new monarch, who had often been offended by
Wilfrid's insolence, denounced this haughty prelate to the archbishop.
Nothing could be more agreeable to Theodore. He assembled a council at
Hertford, before which the chief of his converts were first summoned,
and presenting to them, not the holy scripture but the _canons of the
Romish church_,[91] he received their solemn oaths: such was the
religion then taught in England. But this was not all. "The diocese of
our brother Wilfrid is so extensive," said the primate, "that there is
room in it for four bishops." They were appointed accordingly. Wilfrid
indignantly appealed from the primate and the king to the pope. "Who
converted England, who, if not I? ... and it is thus I am
rewarded!"... Not allowing himself to be checked by the difficulties
of the journey, he set out for Rome, attended by a few monks, and Pope
Agathon assembling a council (679), the Englishman presented his
complaint, and the pontiff declared the destitution to be illegal.
Wilfrid immediately returned to England, and haughtily presented the
pope's decree to the king. But Egfrid, who was not of a disposition to
tolerate these transalpine manners, far from restoring the see, cast
the prelate into prison, and did not release him until the end of the
year, and then only on condition that he would immediately quit
Northumbria.

  [91] Quibus statim protuli eundem librum canonum. (Ibid. cap. v.) To
  whom I straightway presented the same book of canons.

Wilfrid--for we must follow even to the end of his life that
remarkable man, who exercised so great an influence over the destinies
of the English church--Wilfrid was determined to be a bishop at any
cost. The kingdom of Sussex was still pagan; and the deposed prelate,
whose indefatigable activity we cannot but acknowledge, formed the
resolution of winning a bishopric, as other men plan the conquest of a
kingdom. He arrived in Sussex during a period of famine, and having
brought with him a number of nets, he taught the people the art of
fishing, and thus gained their affections. Their king Edilwalch had
been baptized, his subjects now followed his example, and Wilfrid was
placed at the head of the church. But he soon manifested the
disposition by which he was animated: he furnished supplies of men and
money to Ceadwalla, king of Wessex, and this cruel chieftain made a
fierce inroad into Sussex, laying it waste, and putting to death
Edilwalch, the prelate's benefactor. The career of the turbulent
bishop was not ended. King Egfrid died, and was succeeded by his
brother Alfred, whom Wilfrid had brought up, a prince fond of learning
and religion, and emulous of the glory of his uncle Oswald. The
ambitious Wilfrid hastened to claim his see of York, by acquiescing in
the partition; it was restored to him, and he forthwith began to
plunder others to enrich himself. A council begged him to submit to
the decrees of the church of England; he refused, and having lost the
esteem of the king, his former pupil, he undertook, notwithstanding
his advanced years, a third journey to Rome. Knowing how popes are
won, he threw himself at the pontiff's feet, exclaiming that "the
suppliant bishop Wilfrid, the humble slave of the servant of God,
implored the favour of our most blessed lord, the pope universal." The
bishop could not restore his creature to his see, and the short
remainder of Wilfrid's life was spent in the midst of the riches his
cupidity had so unworthily accumulated.

Yet he had accomplished the task of his life: all England was
subservient to the papacy. The names of _Oswy_ and of _Wilfrid_ should
be inscribed in letters of mourning in the annals of Great Britain.
Posterity has erred in permitting them to sink into oblivion; for they
were two of the most influential and energetic men that ever
flourished in England. Still this very forgetfulness is not wanting in
generosity. The grave in which the liberty of the church lay buried
for nine centuries is the only monument--a mournful one indeed--that
should perpetuate their memory.

[Sidenote: ADAMNAN.]

But Scotland was still free, and to secure the definitive triumph of
Rome, it was necessary to invade that virgin soil, over which the
standard of the faith had floated for so many years.

Adamnan was then at the head of the church of Iona, the first elder of
that religious house. He was virtuous and learned, but weak and
somewhat vain, and his religion had little spirituality. To gain him
was in the eyes of Rome to gain Scotland. A singular circumstance
favoured the plans of those who desired to draw him into the papal
communion. One day during a violent tempest, a ship coming from the
Holy Land, and on board of which was a Gaulish bishop named Arculf,
was wrecked in the neighbourhood of Iona.[92] Arculf eagerly sought an
asylum among the pious inhabitants of that island. Adamnan never grew
tired of hearing the stranger's descriptions of Bethlehem, Jerusalem,
and Golgotha, of the sun-burnt plains over which our Lord had
wandered, and the cleft stone which still lay before the door of the
sepulchre.[93] The elder of Iona, who prided himself on his learning,
noted down Arculf's conversation, and from it composed a description
of the Holy Land. As soon as his book was completed, the desire of
making these wondrous things more widely known, combined with a little
vanity, and perhaps other motives, urged him to visit the court of
Northumberland, where he presented his work to the pious King
Alfred,[94] who, being fond of learning and of the Christian
traditions, caused a number of copies of it to be made.

  [92] Vi tempestatis in occidentalia Britanniæ littora delatus est.
  Beda, lib. v, cap. xvi.

  [93] Lapis qui ad ostium monumenti positus erat, fissus est. (Ibid.
  cap. xvii.) The stone which was laid at the door of the sepulchre is
  now cleft in two.

  [94] Porrexit autem librum tunc Adamnanus Alfrido regi. Ibid. cap.
  xvi.

[Sidenote: RESISTANCE OF IONA.]

Nor was this all: the Romish clergy perceived the advantage they might
derive from this imprudent journey. They crowded round the elder; they
showed him all the pomp of their worship, and said to him: "Will you
and your friends, who live at the very extremity of the world, set
yourselves in opposition to the observances of the universal
church?"[95] The nobles of the court flattered the author's self-love,
and invited him to their festivities, while the king loaded him with
presents. The free presbyter of Britain became a priest of Rome, and
Adamnan returned to Iona to betray his church to his new masters. But
it was all to no purpose: Iona would not give way.[96] He then went to
hide his shame in Ireland, where having brought a few individuals to
the Romish uniformity, he took courage and revisited Scotland. But
that country, still inflexible, repelled him with indignation.[97]

  [95] Ne contra universalem ecclesiæ morem, cum suis paucissimis et in
  extremo mundi angulo positis, vivere præsumeret. Beda, lib. v, cap.
  xvi.

  [96] Curavit suos ad eum veritatis calcem producere, nec voluit. Beda,
  lib. v. cap. xvi.

  [97] Nec tamen perficere quod conabatur posset. Ibid. The conversions
  of which abbot Ceolfrid speaks in chap. xxii. are probably those
  effected in Ireland, the word Scotia being at this period frequently
  applied to that country.

When Rome found herself unable to conquer by the priest, she had
recourse to the prince, and her eyes were turned to Naitam, king of
the Picts. "How much more glorious it would be for you," urged the
Latin priests, "to belong to the powerful church of the universal
pontiff of Rome, than to a congregation superintended by miserable
elders! The Romish church is a monarchy, and ought to be the church of
every monarch. The Roman ceremonial accords with the pomp of royalty,
and its temples are palaces." The prince was convinced by the last
argument. He despatched messengers to Ceolfrid, the abbot of an
English convent, begging him to send him _architects_ capable of
building a church _after the Roman pattern_[98]--of stone and not of
wood. Architects, majestic porches, lofty columns, vaulted roofs,
gilded altars, have often proved the most influential of Rome's
missionaries. The builder's art, though in its earliest and simplest
days, was more powerful than the Bible. Naitam, who, by submitting to
the pope thought himself the equal of Clovis and Clotaire, assembled
the nobles of his court and the pastors of his church, and thus
addressed them: "I recommend all the clergy of my kingdom to receive
the tonsure of Saint Peter."[99] Then without delay (as Bede informs
us) this important revolution was accomplished by royal
authority.[100] He sent agents and letters into every province, and
caused all the ministers and monks to receive the circular tonsure
according to the Roman fashion.[101] It was the mark that popery
stamped, not on the forehead, but on the crown. A royal proclamation
and a few clips of the scissors placed the Scotch, like a flock of
sheep, beneath the crook of the shepherd of the Tiber.

  [98] Architectos sibi mitti petiit qui juxta morem Romanorum ecclesiam
  facerent. Beda, lib. v. cap. xxii.

  [99] Et hanc accipere tonsuram, omnes qui in meo regno sunt clericos
  decerno. Ibid.

  [100] Nec mora, quæ? dixerat regia auctoritate perfecit. Ibid.

  [101] Per universas Pictorum provincias....tondebantur omnes in
  coronam ministri altaris ac monachi. (Ibid.) Throughout all the
  provinces of the Picts ... all the ministers of the altar and monks
  had the crown shorn.

[Sidenote: EGBERT THE MONK AT IONA.]

Iona still held out. The orders of the Pictish king, the example of
his subjects, the sight of that Italian power which was devouring the
earth, had shaken some few minds; but the Church still resisted the
innovation. Iona was the last citadel of liberty in the western
world, and popery was filled with anger at that miserable band which
in its remote corner refused to bend before it. Human means appeared
insufficient to conquer this rock: something more was needed, visions
and miracles for example; and these Rome always finds when she wants
them. One day towards the end of the seventh century, an English monk,
named Egbert, arriving from Ireland, appeared before the elders of
Iona, who received him with their accustomed hospitality. He was a man
in whom enthusiastic devotion was combined with great gentleness of
heart, and he soon won upon the minds of these simple believers. He
spoke to them of an external unity, urging that a universality
manifested under different forms was unsuited to the church of Christ.
He advocated the special form of Rome, and for the truly catholic
element which the Christians of Iona had thus far possessed,
substituted a sectarian element. He attacked the traditions of the
British church,[102] and lavishly distributing the rich presents
confided to him by the lords of Ireland and of England,[103] he soon
had reason to acknowledge the truth of the saying of the wise man: _A
gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him that hath it:
whithersoever it turneth it prospereth_.

  [102] Sedulis exhortationibus inveteratam illam traditionem parentum
  eorum. (Beda, lib. v. cap. xxiii.) By his frequent exhortations, he
  converted them from that inveterate tradition of their ancestors.

  [103] Pietate largiendi de his quæ a divitibus acceperat, multum
  profuit. (Ibid. cap. xxvii.) He did much good by the pious
  distribution of those gifts which he had received from the rich.

[Sidenote: MONKISH VISIONS.]

Some pious souls, however, still held out in Iona. The enthusiast
Egbert--for such he appears to have been rather than an impostor--had
recourse to other means. He represented himself to be a messenger from
heaven: the saints themselves, said he, have commissioned me to
convert Iona; and then he told the following history to the elders who
stood round him. "About thirty years ago I entered the monastery of
Rathmelfig in Ireland, when a terrible pestilence fell upon it, and of
all the brethren the monk Edelhun and myself were left alone. Attacked
by the plague, and fearing my last hour was come, I rose from my bed
and crept into the chapel.[104] There my whole body trembled at the
recollection of my sins, and my face was bathed with tears. 'O God,' I
exclaimed, 'suffer me not to die until I have redeemed my debt to thee
by an abundance of good works.[105] I returned staggering to the
infirmary, got into bed, and fell asleep. When I awoke, I saw Edelhun
with his eyes fixed on mine. 'Brother Egbert,' said he, 'it has been
revealed to me in a vision that thou shalt receive what thou hast
asked.' On the following night Edelhun died and I recovered.

  [104] Cum se existimaret esse moriturum, egressus est tempore matutino
  de cubiculo, et residens solus..... Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxvii.

  [105] Precabatur ne adhuc mori deberet priusquam vel præteritas
  negligentias perfectim ex tempore castigaret, vel in bonis es operibus
  abundantius exerceret. Ibid.

"Many years passed away: my repentance and my vigils did not satisfy
me, and wishing to pay my debt, I resolved to go with a company of
monks and preach the blessings of the gospel to the heathens of
Germany. But during the night a blessed saint from heaven appeared to
one of the brethren and said: 'Tell Egbert that he must go to the
monasteries of Columba, for their ploughs do not plough straight, and
he must put them into the right furrow.'[106] I forbade this brother
to speak of his vision, and went on board a ship bound for Germany. We
were waiting for a favourable wind, when, of a sudden, in the middle
of the night, a frightful tempest burst upon the vessel, and drove us
on the shoals. 'For my sake this tempest is upon us,' I exclaimed in
terror; 'God speaks to me as He did to Jonah;' and I ran to take
refuge in my cell. At last I determined to obey the command which the
holy man had brought me. I left Ireland, and came among you, in order
to pay my debt by converting you. And now," continued Egbert, "make
answer to the voice of heaven, and submit to Rome."

  [106] Quia aratra eorum non recte incedunt; oportet autem eum ad
  rectum hæc tramitem revocare. Beda, lib. iii. cap. xxvii.

A ship thrown on shore by a storm was a frequent occurrence on those
coasts, and the dream of a monk, absorbed in the plans of his brother,
was nothing very unnatural. But in those times of darkness, everything
appeared miraculous; phantoms and apparitions had more weight than the
word of God. Instead of detecting the emptiness of these visions by
the falseness of the religion they were brought to support, the elders
of Iona listened seriously to Egbert's narrative. The primitive faith
planted on the rock of Icolmkill was now like a pine-tree tossed by
the winds: but one gust, and it would be uprooted and blown into the
sea. Egbert, perceiving the elders to be shaken, redoubled his
prayers, and even had recourse to threats. "All the west," said he,
"bends the knee to Rome: alone against all, what can you do?" The
Scotch still resisted: obscure and unknown, the last British
Christians contended in behalf of expiring liberty. At length
bewildered--they stumbled and fell. The scissors were brought; they
received the Latin tonsure[107]--they were the pope's.

  [107] Ad ritum tonsuræ canonicum sub figura coronæ perpetuæ. (Beda,
  lib. v. cap. xxiii.) To the canonical rite of the tonsure under the
  form of a perpetual crown.

[Sidenote: FALL OF IONA.]

Thus fell Scotland. Yet there still remained some sparks of grace, and
the mountains of Caledonia long concealed the hidden fire which after
many ages burst forth with such power and might. Here and there a few
independent spirits were to be found who testified against the tyranny
of Rome. In the time of Bede they might be seen "halting in their
paths," (to use the words of the Romish historian,) refusing to join
in the holidays of the pontifical adherents, and pushing away the
hands that were eager to shave their crowns.[108] But the leaders of
the state and of the church had laid down their arms. The contest was
over, after lasting more than a century. British Christianity had in
some degree prepared its own fall, by substituting too often the form
for the faith. The foreign superstition took advantage of this
weakness, and triumphed in these islands by means of royal decrees,
church ornaments, monkish phantoms, and conventual apparitions. At the
beginning of the eighth century the British Church became the serf of
Rome; but an internal struggle was commencing, which did not cease
until the period of the Reformation.

  [108] Sicut a contra Brittones, inveterati et claudicantes a semitis
  suis, et capita ferre sine corona prætendunt. (Beda, lib. v, cap.
  xxiii.) Even as, on the contrary, the Britons, inveterate and halting
  in their paths, expose their heads without a crown.




CHAPTER IV.

     Clement--Struggle between a Scotchman and an
     Englishman--Word of God only--Clement's Success--His
     condemnation--Virgil and the Antipodes--John Scotus and
     Philosophical Religion--Alfred and the Bible--Darkness and
     Popery--William the Conqueror--Wulston at Edward's
     Tomb--Struggle between William and Hildebrand--The Pope
     yields--Cæsaropapia.


The independent Christians of Scotland, who subordinated the authority
of man to that of God, were filled with sorrow as they beheld these
back-slidings: and it was this no doubt which induced many to leave
their homes and fight in the very heart of Europe in behalf of that
Christian liberty which had just expired among themselves.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT AND BONIFACE.]

At the commencement of the eighth century a great idea took possession
of a pious doctor of the Scottish church named Clement.[109] The
_work of God_ is the very essence of Christianity, thought he, and
this work must be defended against all the encroachments of man. To
human traditionalism he opposed the sole authority of the word of God;
to clerical materialism, a church which is the assembly of the saints;
and to Pelagianism, the sovereignty of grace. He was a man of decided
character and firm faith, but without fanaticism; his heart was open
to the holiest emotions of our nature; he was a husband and a father.
He quitted Scotland and travelled among the Franks, every where
scattering the seeds of the faith. It happened unfortunately that a
man of kindred energy, Winifrid or Boniface of Wessex, was planting
the pontifical Christianity in the same regions. This great
missionary, who possessed in an essential degree the faculty of
organization, aimed at external unity above all things, and when he
had taken the oath of fidelity to Gregory II., he had received from
that pope a collection of the Roman laws. Boniface, henceforth a
docile disciple or rather a fanatical champion of Rome, supported on
the one hand by the pontiff, and on the other by Charles Martel, had
preached to the people of Germany, among some undoubted Christian
truths,--the doctrine of tithes and of papal supremacy. The Englishman
and the Scotchman, representatives of two great systems, were about to
engage in deadly combat in the heart of Europe--in a combat whose
consequences might be incalculable.

  [109] Alter qui dicitur Clemens, genere _Scotus_ est. Bonifacii
  epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia ad ann. 745.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT'S SUCCESS.]

Alarmed at the progress made by Clement's evangelical doctrines,
Boniface, archbishop of the German churches, undertook to oppose them.
At first he confronted the Scotchman with the laws of the Roman
church; but the latter denied the authority of these ecclesiastical
canons, and refuted their contents.[110] Boniface then put forward the
decisions of various councils; but Clement replied that if the
decisions of the councils are contrary to holy Scripture, they have no
authority over Christians.[111] The archbishop, astonished at such
audacity, next had recourse to the writings of the most illustrious
fathers of the Latin church, quoting Jerome, Augustine, and Gregory;
but the Scotchman told him, that instead of submitting to the word of
men, he would obey the word of God alone.[112] Boniface with
indignation now introduced the Catholic church which, by its priests
and bishops, all united to the pope, forms an invincible unity; but
to his great surprise his opponent maintained that there only, where
the Holy Spirit dwells, can be found the spouse of Jesus Christ.[113]
Vainly did the archbishop express his horror; Clement was not to be
turned aside from his great idea, either by the clamours of the
followers of Rome, or by the imprudent attacks made on the papacy by
other Christian ministers. Rome had, indeed, other adversaries. A
Gallic bishop named Adalbert, with whom Boniface affected to associate
Clement, one day saw the archbishop complacently exhibiting to the
people some relics of St. Peter which he had brought from Rome; and
being desirous of showing the ridiculous character of these Romish
practices, he distributed among the bystanders his own hair and nails,
praying them to pay these the same honours as Boniface claimed for the
relics of the papacy. Clement smiled, like many others, at Adalbert's
singular argument; but it was not with such arms that he was wont to
fight. Gifted with profound discernment, he had remarked that the
authority of man substituted for the authority of God was the source
of all the errors of Romanism. At the same time he maintained on
predestination what the archbishop called "horrible doctrines,
contrary to the Catholic faith."[114] Clement's character inclines us
to believe that he was favourable to the doctrine of predestination. A
century later the pious Gottschalk was persecuted by one of Boniface's
successors for holding this very doctrine of Augustine's. Thus then
did a Scotchman, the representative of the ancient faith of his
country, withstand almost unaided in the centre of Europe the invasion
of the Romans. But he was not long alone: the great especially, more
enlightened than the common people, thronged around him. If Clement
had succeeded, a Christian church would have been founded on the
continent independent of the papacy.

  [110] Canones ecclesiarum Christi abnegat et refutat. Ibid.

  [111] Synodalia jura spernens. Ibid.

  [112] Tractatus et sermones sanctorum patrum, Hieronymi, Augustini,
  Gregorii recusat. Ibid.

  [113] Clemens contra catholicam contendit ecclesiam. Bonifacii
  epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia ad ann. 745.

  [114] Multa alia horribilia de prædestinatione Dei, contraria fidei
  catholicæ affirmat. Ibid.

Boniface was confounded. He wished to do in central Europe what his
fellow-countryman Wilfrid had done in England; and at the very moment
he fancied he was advancing from triumph to triumph, victory escaped
from his hands. He turned against this new enemy, and applying to
Charles Martel's sons, Pepin and Carloman, he obtained their consent
to the assembling of a council before which he summoned Clement to
appear.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT CONDEMNED.]

The bishops, counts, and other notabilities having met at Soissons on
the 2nd March 744, Boniface accused the Scotchman of despising the
laws of Rome, the councils, and the fathers; attacked his marriage,
which he called an adulterous union, and called in question some
secondary points of doctrine. Clement was accordingly excommunicated
by Boniface, at once his adversary, accuser, and judge, and thrown
into prison, with the approbation of the pope and the king of the
Franks.[115]

  [115] Sacerdotio privans, reduci facit in custodiam. Concilium
  Romanum. Bonifacii epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia ad ann. 745.

The Scotchman's cause was every where taken up; accusations were
brought against the German primate, his persecuting spirit was
severely condemned, and his exertions for the triumph of the papacy
were resisted.[116] Carloman yielded to this unanimous movement. The
prison doors were opened, and Clement had hardly crossed the threshold
before he began to protest boldly against human authority in matters
of faith: the word of God is the only rule. Upon this Boniface applied
to Rome for the heretic's condemnation, and accompanied his request by
a silver cup and a garment of delicate texture.[117] The pope decided
in synod that if Clement did not retract his errors, he should be
delivered up to everlasting damnation, and then requested Boniface to
send him to Rome under a sure guard. We here lose all traces of the
Scotchman, but it is easy to conjecture what must have been his fate.

  [116] Propter ista enim, persecutiones et inimicitias et maledictiones
  multorum populorum patior. (Ibid.) For on account of these things, I
  suffer the persecution and hatred and maledictions of multitudes.

  [117] Poculum argenteum et sindonem unam. Gemuli Ep. Ibid.

Clement was not the only Briton who became distinguished in this
contest. Two fellow-countrymen, Sampson and Virgil, who preached in
central Europe, were in like manner persecuted by the Church of Rome.
Virgil, anticipating Galileo, dared maintain that there were other men
and another world beneath our feet.[118] He was denounced by Boniface
for this _heresy_, and condemned by the pope, as were other Britons
for the apostolical simplicity of their lives. In 813, certain
Scotchmen who called themselves bishops, says a canon, having appeared
before a council of the Roman church at Châlons, were rejected by the
French prelates, because, like St. Paul, _they worked with their own
hands_. Those enlightened and faithful men were superior to their
time: Boniface and his ecclesiastical materialism were better fitted
for an age in which clerical forms were regarded as the substance of
religion.

  [118] Perversa doctrina......quod alius mundus et alii homines sub
  terra sint. (Zachariæ papæ Ep. ad Bonif. Labbei concilia, vi. p. 152.)
  A heretical doctrine.....that there is another world and other men
  under the earth.

[Sidenote: DUNS SCOTUS.]

Even Great Britain, although its light was not so pure, was not
altogether plunged in darkness. The Anglo-Saxons imprinted on their
church certain characteristics which distinguished it from that of
Rome; several books of the Bible were translated into their tongue,
and daring spirits on the one hand, with some pious souls on the
other, laboured in a direction hostile to popery.

At first we see the dawning of that philosophic rationalism, which
gives out a certain degree of brightness, but which can neither
conquer error nor still less establish truth. In the ninth century
there was a learned scholar in Ireland, who afterwards settled at the
court of Charles the Bald. He was a strange mysterious man, of
profound thought, and as much raised above the doctors of his age by
the boldness of his ideas, as Charlemagne above the princes of his day
by the force of his will. John Scot Erigena--that is, a native of
Ireland and not of Ayr, as some have supposed--was a meteor in the
theological heavens. With a great philosophic genius he combined a
cheerful jesting disposition. One day, while seated at table opposite
to Charles the Bald, the latter archly inquired of him: "What is the
distance between a _Scot_ and a _Sot_?" "The width of the table," was
his ready answer, which drew a smile from the king. While the doctrine
of Bede, Boniface, and even Alcuin was traditional, servile, and, in
one word, Romanist, that of Scot was mystical, philosophic, free, and
daring. He sought for the truth not in the word or in the Church, but
in himself:--"The knowledge of ourselves is the true source of
religious wisdom. Every creature is a theophany--a manifestation of
God; since revelation presupposes the existence of truth, it is this
truth, which is above revelation, with which man must set himself in
immediate relation, leaving him at liberty to show afterwards its
harmony with scripture, and the other theophanies. We must first
employ reason, and then authority. Authority proceeds from reason, and
not reason from authority."[119] Yet this bold thinker, when on his
knees, could give way to aspirations full of piety: "O Lord Jesus,"
exclaimed he, "I ask no other happiness of Thee, but to understand,
unmixed with deceitful theories, the word that Thou hast inspired by
thy Holy Spirit! Show thyself to those who ask for Thee alone!" But
while Scot rejected on the one hand certain traditional errors, and in
particular the doctrine of transubstantiation which was creeping into
the church, he was near falling as regards God and the world into
other errors savouring of pantheism.[120] The philosophic rationalism
of the contemporary of Charles the Bald--the strange product of one of
the obscurest periods of history (850)--was destined after the lapse
of many centuries to be taught once more in Great Britain as a modern
invention of the most enlightened age.

  [119] Prius ratione utendum ac deinde auctoritate. Auctoritas ex vera
  ratione processit, ratio vero nequaquam ex auctoritate. De div.
  prædestin.

  [120] Deum in omnibus esse. (De divisione naturæ, b. 74.) That God is
  in all things.

[Sidenote: ALFRED AND THE BIBLE.]

While Scot was thus plumping the depths of philosophy, others were
examining their Bibles; and if thick darkness had not spread over
these first glimpses of the dawn, perhaps the Church of Great Britain
might even then have begun to labour for the regeneration of
Christendom. A youthful prince, thirsting for intellectual enjoyments,
for domestic happiness, and for the word of God, and who sought, by
frequent prayer, for deliverance from the bondage of sin, had ascended
the throne of Wessex, in the year 871. Alfred being convinced that
Christianity alone could rightly mould a nation, assembled round him
the most learned men from all parts of Europe, and was anxious that
the English, like the Hebrews, Greeks, and Latins, should possess the
holy scripture in their own language. He is the real patron of the
biblical work,--a title far more glorious than that of founder of the
university of Oxford. After having fought more than fifty battles by
land and sea, he died while translating the Psalms of David for his
subjects.[121]

  [121] A portion of the law of God translated by Alfred may be found in
  Wilkins, Concilia, i. p. 186 et seq.

After this gleam of light thick darkness once more settled upon Great
Britain. Nine Anglo-Saxon kings ended their days in monasteries; there
was a seminary in Rome from which every year fresh scholars bore to
England the new forms of popery; the celibacy of priests, that cement
of the Romish hierarchy, was established by a bull about the close of
the tenth century; convents were multiplied, considerable possessions
were bestowed on the Church, and the tax of _Peter's pence_, laid at
the pontiff's feet, proclaimed the triumph of the papal system. But a
reaction soon took place: England collected her forces for a war
against the papacy, a war at one time secular and at another
spiritual. William of Normandy, Edward III., Wickliffe, and the
Reformation, are the four ascending steps of protestantism in England.

[Sidenote: WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.]

A proud, enterprising, and far-sighted prince, the illegitimate son of
a peasant girl of Falaise and Robert the Devil, duke of Normandy,
began a contest with the papacy which lasted until the Reformation.
William the Conqueror, having defeated the Saxons at Hastings in 1066
A. D., took possession of England, under the benediction of the Roman
pontiff. But the conquered country was destined to conquer its master.
William, who had invaded England in the pope's name, had no sooner
touched the soil of his new kingdom, than he learned to resist Rome,
as if the ancient liberty of the British Church had revived in him.
Being firmly resolved to allow no foreign prince or prelate to possess
in his dominions a jurisdiction independent of his own, he made
preparations for a conquest far more difficult than that of the
Anglo-Saxon kingdom. The papacy itself furnished him with weapons. The
Roman legates prevailed on the king to dispossess the English
episcopacy in a mass, and this was exactly what he wished. To resist
the papacy, William desired to be sure of the submission of the
priests of England. Stigand, archbishop of Canterbury, was removed,
and Lanfranc of Pavia, who had been summoned from Bec in Normandy to
fill his place, was commissioned by the Conqueror to bend the clergy
to obedience. This prelate, who was regular in his life, abundant in
almsgiving, a learned disputant, a prudent politician, and a skilful
mediator, finding that he had to choose between his master King
William and his friend the pontiff Hildebrand, gave the prince the
preference. He refused to go to Rome, notwithstanding the threats of
the pope, and applied himself resolutely to the work the king had
intrusted to him. The Saxons sometimes resisted the Normans, as the
Britons had resisted the Saxons; but the second struggle was less
glorious than the first. A synod at which the king was present having
met in the abbey of Westminster, William commanded Wulston, bishop of
Worcester, to give up his crosier to him. The old man rose, animated
with holy fervour: "O king," he said, "from a better man than you I
received it, and to him only will I return it."[122] Unhappily this
"better man" was not Jesus Christ. Then approaching the tomb of Edward
the Confessor, he continued: "O my master, it was you who compelled me
to assume this office; but now behold a new king and a new primate who
promulgate new laws. Not unto them, O master, but unto you, do I
resign my crosier and the care of my flock." With these words Wulston
laid his pastoral staff on Edward's tomb. On the sepulchre of the
confessor perished the liberty of the Anglo-Saxon hierarchy. The
deprived Saxon bishops were consigned to fortresses or shut up in
convents.

  [122] Divino animi ardore repente inflammatus, regi inquit: Melior te
  his me ornavit cui et reddam. Wilkins, Concilia, i, 367.

[Sidenote: STRUGGLE BETWEEN WILLIAM AND HILDEBRAND.]

The Conqueror being thus assured of the obedience of the bishops, put
forward the supremacy of the sword in opposition to that of the pope.
He nominated directly to all vacant ecclesiastical offices, filled his
treasury with the riches of the churches, required that all priests
should make oath to him, forbade them to excommunicate his officers
without his consent, not even for incest, and declared that all
synodal decisions must be countersigned by him. "I claim," said he to
the archbishop one day, raising his arms towards heaven, "I claim to
hold in this hand all the pastoral staffs in my kingdom."[123]
Lanfranc was astonished at this daring speech, but prudently kept
silent,[124] for a time at least. Episcopacy connived at the royal
pretensions.

  [123] Respondit rex et dixit se velle omnes baculos pastorales Angliæ
  in manu sus tenere. Script. Anglic. Lond. 1652, fol. p. 1327.

  [124] Lanfranc ad hæc miratus est, sed propter majores ecclesiæ
  Christi utilitates, quas sine rege perficere non potuit, ad tempus
  _siluit_. Ibid.

Will Hildebrand, the most inflexible of popes, bend before William?
The king was earnest in his desire to enslave the Church to the State;
the pope to enslave the State to the Church: the collision of these
two mighty champions threatened to be terrible. But the haughtiest of
pontiffs was seen to yield as soon as he felt the mail-clad hand of
the Conqueror, and to shrink unresistingly before it. The pope filled
all Christendom with confusion, that he might deprive princes of the
right of investiture to ecclesiastical dignities: William would not
permit him to interfere with that question in England, and Hildebrand
submitted. The king went even farther: the pope, wishing to enslave
the clergy, deprived the priests of their lawful wives; William got a
decree passed by the counsel of Winchester in 1076 to the effect that
the married priests living in castles and towns should not be
compelled to put away their wives.[125] This was too much: Hildebrand
summoned Lanfranc to Rome, but William forbade him to go. "Never did
king, not even a pagan," exclaimed Gregory, "attempt against the holy
see what this man does not fear to carry out!"[126].... To console
himself, he demanded payment of the _Peter's pence_, and an oath of
fidelity. William sent the money, but refused the homage; and when
Hildebrand saw the tribute which the king had paid, he said bitterly:
"What value can I set on money which is contributed with so little
honour!"[127] William forbade his clergy to recognise the pope, or to
publish a bull without the royal approbation, which did not prevent
Hildebrand from styling him "the pearl of princes."[128] "It is
true," said he to his legate, "that the English king does not behave
in certain matters so religiously as we could desire.... Yet beware of
exasperating him.... We shall win him over to God and St. Peter more
surely by mildness and reason than by strictness or severity."[129] In
this manner the pope acted like the archbishop--_siluit_: he was
silent. It is for feeble governments that Rome reserves her energies.

  [125] Sacerdotes vero in castellis vel in vicis habitantes habentes
  uxores, non cogantur ut dimittant. Wilkins, Concilia, i. p. 367.

  [126] Nemo enim omnium regum, etiam paganorum.... Greg. lib vii. Ep.
  i. ad Hubert.

  [127] Pecunias sine honore tributas, quanti pretii habeam. Ibid.

  [128] Gemma principum esse meruisti. Greg. lib. vii. Epp. xxiii. ad
  Gulielm.

  [129] Facilius lenitatis dulcedine ac rationis ostensione, quam
  austeritate vel rigore justitiæ. Ibid. Ep. v. ad Hugonem.

[Sidenote: CÆSAROPAPIA.]

The Norman kings, desirous of strengthening their work, constructed
Gothic cathedrals in the room of wooden churches, in which they
installed their soldier-bishops, as if they were strong fortresses.
Instead of the moral power and the humble crook of the shepherd, they
gave them secular power and a staff. The religious episcopate was
succeeded by a political one. William Rufus went even to greater
lengths than his father. Taking advantage of the schism which divided
the papacy, he did without a pope for ten years, leaving abbeys,
bishoprics, and even Canterbury vacant, and scandalously squandering
their revenues. Cæsaropapia (which transforms a king into a pope)
having thus attained its greatest excess, a sacerdotal reaction could
not fail to take place.

The papacy is about to rise up again in England, and royalty to
decline--two movements which are always found combined in Great
Britain.




CHAPTER V.

     Anselm's Firmness--Becket's Austerity--The King
     scourged--John becomes the Pope's Vassal--Collision between
     Popery and Liberty--The Vassal King ravages his
     Kingdom--Religion of the Senses and Superstition.


We are now entering upon a new phase of history. Romanism is on the
point of triumphing by the exertions of learned men, energetic
prelates, and princes in whom extreme imprudence was joined with
extreme servility. This is the era of the dominion of popery, and we
shall see it unscrupulously employing the despotism by which it is
characterized.

[Sidenote: ANSELM.]

A malady having occasioned some degree of remorse in the king, he
consented to fill up the vacancy in the archiepiscopal see. And now
Anselm first appears in England. He was born in an Alpine valley, at
the town of Aosta in Piedmont. Imbibing the instructions of his pious
mother Ermenberga, and believing that God's throne was placed on the
summit of the gigantic mountains he saw rising around him, the child
Anselm climbed them in his dreams, and received the bread of heaven
from the hands of the Lord. Unhappily in after-years he recognised
another throne in the church of Christ, and bowed his head before the
chair of St. Peter. This was the man whom William II. summoned in 1093
to fill the primacy of Canterbury. Anselm, who was then sixty years
old, and engaged in teaching at Bec, refused at first: the character
of Rufus terrified him. "The church of England," said he, "is a plough
that ought to be drawn by two oxen of equal strength. How can you yoke
together an old and timid sheep like me and that wild bull?" At length
he accepted, and concealing a mind of great power under an appearance
of humility, he had hardly arrived in England before he recognised
Pope Urban II., demanded the estates of his see which the treasury had
seized upon, refused to pay the king the sums he demanded, contested
the right of investiture against Henry I., forbade all ecclesiastics
to take the feudal oath, and determined that the priests should
forthwith put away their wives. Scholasticism, of which Anselm was the
first representative, freed the church from the yoke of royalty, but
only to chain it to the papal chair. The fetters were about to be
riveted by a still more energetic hand; and what this great theologian
had begun, a great worldling was to carry on.

At the hunting parties of Henry II. a man attracted the attention of
his sovereign by his air of frankness, agreeable manners, witty
conversation, and exuberant vivacity. This was Thomas Becket, the son
of an Anglo-Saxon and a Syrian woman. Being both priest and soldier,
he was appointed at the same time by the king prebend of Hastings and
governor of the Tower. When nominated chancellor of England, he showed
himself no less expert than Wilfrid in misappropriating the wealth of
the minors in his charge, and of the abbeys and bishoprics, and
indulged in the most extravagant luxury. Henry, the first of the
Plantagenets, a man of undecided character, having noticed Becket's
zeal in upholding the prerogatives of the crown, appointed him
archbishop of Canterbury. "Now, sire," remarked the primate, with a
smile, "when I shall have to choose between God's favour and yours,
remember it is yours that I shall sacrifice."

[Sidenote: BECKET OPPOSES THE KING.]

Becket, who, as keeper of the seals, had been the most magnificent of
courtiers, affected as archbishop to be the most venerable of saints.
He sent back the seals to the king, assumed the robe of a monk, wore
sackcloth filled with vermin, lived on the plainest food, every day
knelt down to wash the feet of the poor, paced the cloisters of his
cathedral with tearful eyes, and spent hours in prayer before the
altar. As champion of the priests, even in their crimes, he took under
his protection one who to the crime of seduction had added the murder
of his victim's father.

The judges having represented to Henry that during the first eight
years of his reign a hundred murders had been committed by
ecclesiastics, the king in 1164 summoned a council at Clarendon, in
which certain regulations or _constitutions_ were drawn up, with the
object of preventing the encroachments of the hierarchy. Becket at
first refused to sign them, but at length consented, and then withdrew
into solitary retirement to mourn over his fault. Pope Alexander III
released him from his oath; and then began a fierce and long struggle
between the king and the primate. Four knights of the court, catching
up a hasty expression of their master's, barbarously murdered the
archbishop at the foot of the altar in his own cathedral church (A. D.
1170). The people looked upon Becket as a saint: immense crowds came
to pray at his tomb, at which many _miracles_ were worked.[130] "Even
from his grave," said Becket's partizans, "he renders his testimony in
behalf of the papacy."

  [130] In loco passionis et ubi sepultus est, paralytici curantur, coeci
  vident, surdi audiunt. (Johan. Salisb. Epp. 286.) In the place of his
  suffering and where he was buried, paralytics are cured, the blind
  see, and the deaf hear.

Henry now passed from one extreme to the other. He entered Canterbury
barefooted, and prostrated himself before the martyr's tomb: the
bishops, priests, and monks, to the number of eighty, passed before
him, each bearing a scourge, and struck three or five blows according
to their rank on the naked shoulders of the king. In former ages, so
the priestly fable ran, Saint Peter had scourged an archbishop of
Canterbury: now Rome in sober reality scourges the back of royalty,
and nothing can henceforward check her victorious career. A
Plantagenet surrendered England to the pope, and the pope gave him
authority to subdue Ireland.[131]

  [131] Significasti si quidem nobis, fili carissime, te Hiberniæ
  insulam ad subdendum illum populum velle intrare, nos itaque gratum et
  acceptum habemus ut pro dilatandis ecclesiæ terminis insulam
  ingrediaris. (Adrian IV., Bulla 1154 in Rymer, Acta Publica.) If
  indeed you have intimated, dear son, that you wish to invade Ireland
  to subdue that people, we are accordingly well pleased, that for the
  purpose of extending the bounds of the church, you should invade that
  island.

[Sidenote: THE GREAT CHARTER.]

Rome, who had set her foot on the neck of a king, was destined under
one of the sons of Henry II to set it on the neck of England. John
being unwilling to acknowledge an archbishop of Canterbury illegally
nominated by Pope Innocent III, the latter, more daring than
Hildebrand, laid the kingdom under an interdict. Upon this John
ordered all the prelates and abbots to leave England, and sent a monk
to Spain as ambassador to Mahomet-el-Nasir, offering to turn Mahometan
and to become his vassal. But as Philip Augustus was preparing to
dethrone him, John made up his mind to become a vassal of Innocent,
and not of Mahomet--which was about the same thing to him. On the 15th
May 1213, he laid his crown at the legate's feet, declared that he
surrendered his kingdom of England to the pope, and made oath to him
as to his lord paramount.[132]

  [132] Resignavit coronam suam in manus domini papæ. Matth. Paris, 198
  et 207.

A national protest then boldly claimed the ancient liberties of the
people. Forty-five barons armed in complete mail, and mounted on their
noble war-horses, surrounded by their knights and servants and about
two thousand soldiers, met at Brackley during the festival of Easter
in 1215, and sent a deputation to Oxford, where the court then
resided. "Here," said they to the king, "is the charter which
consecrates the liberties confirmed by Henry II, and which you also
have solemnly sworn to observe."... "Why do they not demand my crown
also?" said the king in a furious passion, and then with an oath,[133]
he added: "I will not grant them liberties which will make me a
slave." This is the usual language of weak and absolute kings. Neither
would the nation submit to be enslaved. The barons occupied London,
and on the 15th June 1215, the king signed the famous _Magna Charta_
at Runnymede. The political protestantism of the thirteenth century
would have done but little, however, for the greatness of the nation,
without the religious protestantism of the sixteenth.

  [133] Cum juramento furibunds. Ibid. 213.

[Sidenote: POPERY AND LIBERTY IN COLLISION.]

This was the first time that the papacy came into collision with
modern liberty. It shuddered in alarm, and the shock was violent.
Innocent swore (as was his custom), and then declared the Great
Charter null and void, forbade the king under pain of anathema to
respect the liberties which he had confirmed,[134] ascribed the
conduct of the barons to the instigation of Satan, and ordered them to
make apology to the king, and to send a deputation to Rome to learn
from the mouth of the pope himself what should be the government of
England. This was the way in which the papacy welcomed the first
manifestations of liberty among the nations, and made known the model
system under which it claimed to govern the whole world.

  [134] Sub intimatione anathematis prohibentes ne dictus rex eam
  observare præsumat. Matth. Paris, 224.

The priests of England supported the anathemas pronounced by their
chief. They indulged in a thousand jeers and sarcasms against John
about the charter he had accepted:--"This is the twenty-fifth king of
England--not a king, not even a kingling--but the disgrace of kings--a
king without a kingdom--the fifth wheel of a waggon--the last of
kings, and the disgrace of his people!--I would not give a straw for
him.... _Fuisti rex, nunc fex_ (once a king, but now a clown)." John,
unable to support his disgrace, groaned and gnashed his teeth and
rolled his eyes, tore sticks from the hedges and gnawed them like a
maniac, or dashed them into fragments on the ground.[135]

  [135] Arreptos baculos et stipites more furiosi nunc corrodere, nunc
  corrosos confringere. Ibid. 222.

The barons, unmoved alike by the insolence of the pope and the despair
of the king, replied that they would maintain the charter. Innocent
excommunicated them. "Is it the pope's business to regulate temporal
matters?" asked they. "By what right do vile usurers and foul
simoniacs domineer over our country and excommunicate the whole
world?"

[Sidenote: RELIGION OF THE SENSES.]

The pope soon triumphed throughout England. His vassal John having
hired some bands of adventurers from the continent, traversed at their
head the whole country from the Channel to the Forth. These
mercenaries carried desolation in their track: they extorted money,
made prisoners, burnt the barons' castles, laid waste their parks, and
dishonoured their wives and daughters.[136] The king would sleep in a
house, and the next morning set fire to it. Blood-stained assassins
scoured the country during the night, the sword in one hand and the
torch in the other, marking their progress by murder and
conflagration.[137] Such was the enthronization of popery in England.
At this sight the barons, overcome by emotion, denounced both the king
and the pope: "Alas! poor country!" they exclaimed. "Wretched
England!... And thou, O pope, a curse light upon thee!"[138]

  [136] Uxores et filias suas ludibrio expositas. Ibid. 231.

  [137] Discurrebant sicarii cæde humana cruentati, noctivagi,
  incendiarii, strictis ensibus. Ibid.

  [138] Sic barones lacrymantes et lamentantes regem et papam
  maledixerunt. Matth. Paris, 234.

The curse was not long delayed. As the king was returning from some
more than usually successful foray, and as the royal waggons were
crossing the sands of the Wash, the tide rose and all sank in the
abyss.[139] This accident filled John with terror: it seemed to him
that the earth was about to open and swallow him up; he fled to a
convent, where he drank copiously of cider, and died of drunkenness
and fright.[140]

  [139] Aperta est in mediis fluctibus terra et voraginis abyssus, quæ
  absorbuerunt universa cum hominibus et equis. Ibid. 242.

  [140] Novi ciceris potatione nimis repletus. Ibid. ad ann. 1216.

Such was the end of the pope's vassal--of his armed missionary in
Great Britain. Never had so vile a prince been the involuntary
occasion to his people of such great benefits. From his reign England
may date her enthusiasm for liberty and her dread of popery.

During this time a great transformation had been accomplished.
Magnificent churches and the marvels of religious art, with ceremonies
and a multitude of prayers and chantings dazzled the eyes, charmed the
ears, and captivated the senses; but testified also to the absence of
every strong moral and Christian disposition, and the predominance of
worldliness in the church. At the same time the adoration of images
and relics, saints, angels, and Mary the mother of God, the worships
of _latria_, _doulia_, and _hyperdoulia_,[141] the real Mediator
transported from the throne of mercy to the seat of vengeance, at once
indicated and kept up among the people that ignorance of truth and
absence of grace which characterize popery. All these errors tended to
bring about a reaction: and in fact the march of the Reformation may
now be said to begin.

  [141] The Romish church distinguishes three kinds of worship:
  _latria_, that paid to God; _doulia_, to saints; and _hyperdoulia_, to
  the Virgin Mary.

England had been brought low by the papacy: it rose up again by
resisting Rome. Grostête, Bradwardine, and Edward III, prepared the
way for Wickliffe, and Wickliffe for the Reformation.




CHAPTER VI.

     Reaction--Grostete--Principles of Reform--Contest with the
     Pope--Sewal--Progress of the Nation--Opposition to the
     Papacy--Conversion of Bradwardine--Grace is Supreme--Edward
     III--Statutes of _Provisors_ and _Præmunire_.


[Sidenote: REACTION.]

In the reign of Henry III, son of John, while the king was conniving
at the usurpations of Rome, and the pope ridiculing the complaints of
the barons, a pious and energetic man, of comprehensive understanding,
was occupied in the study of the Holy Scriptures in their original
languages, and bowing to their sovereign authority. Robert Grostête
(Greathead or _Capito_) was born of poor parents in the county of
Lincolnshire, and being raised to the see of Lincoln in 1235, when he
was sixty years of age, he boldly undertook to reform his diocese, one
of the largest in England. Nor was this all. At the very time when the
Roman pontiff, who had hitherto been content to be called the vicar of
St. Peter, proclaimed himself the vicar of God,[142] and was ordering
the English bishops to find benefices for _three hundred Romans_,[143]
Grostête was declaring that "to follow a pope who rebels against the
will of Christ, is to separate from Christ and his body; and if ever
the time should come when all men follow an erring pontiff, then will
be the great apostasy. Then will true Christians refuse to obey, and
Rome will be the cause of an unprecedented schism."[144] Thus did he
predict the Reformation. Disgusted at the avarice of the monks and
priests, he visited Rome to demand a reform. "Brother," said Innocent
IV to him with some irritation, "_Is thine eye evil, because I am
good?_" The English bishop exclaimed with a sigh: "O money, money! how
great is thy power--especially in this court of Rome!"

  [142] Non puri hominis sed veri Dei vicem gerit in terris. (Innocent
  III. Epp. lib. vi. i. 335.) He wields on earth the power, not of a
  holy man but of the true God.

  [143] Ut trecentis Romanis in primis beneficiis vacantibus
  providerent. Matth. Paris, ann. 1240.

  [144] Absit et quod.....hæc sedes et in ea præsidentes causa sint
  schismatis apparentis. Ortinnus Gratius, ed. Brown, fol. 251.

[Sidenote: CONTEST WITH THE POPE.]

A year had scarcely elapsed before Innocent commanded the bishop to
give a canonry in Lincoln cathedral to his infant nephew. Grostête
replied: "After the sin of Lucifer there is none more opposed to the
Gospel than that which ruins souls by giving them a faithless
minister. Bad pastors are the cause of unbelief, heresy, and
disorder. Those who introduce them into the church are little better
than antichrists, and their culpability is in proportion to their
dignity. Although the chief of the angels should order me to commit
such a sin, I would refuse. My obedience forbids me to obey; and
therefore I rebel."[145]

  [145] Obedienter non obedio sed contradico et rebello. Matth. Paris,
  ad. ann. 1252.

Thus spoke a bishop to his pontiff: his obedience to the word of God
forbade him to obey the pope. This was the principle of the
Reformation. "Who is this old driveller that in his dotage dares to
judge of my conduct?" exclaimed Innocent, whose wrath was appeased by
the intervention of certain cardinals. Grostête on his dying bed
professed still more clearly the principles of the reformers; he
declared that a heresy was "an opinion conceived by carnal motives,
_contrary to Scripture_, openly taught and obstinately defended," thus
asserting the authority of Scripture instead of the authority of the
church. He died in peace, and the public voice proclaimed him "a
searcher of the Scriptures, an adversary of the pope, and despiser of
the Romans."[146] Innocent, desiring to take vengeance on his bones,
meditated the exhumation of his body, when one night (says Matthew of
Paris) the bishop appeared before him. Drawing near the pontiff's bed,
he struck him with his crosier, and thus addressed him with terrible
voice and threatening look:[147] "Wretch! the Lord doth not permit
thee to have any power over me. Woe be to thee!" The vision
disappeared, and the pope, uttering a cry as if he had been struck by
some sharp weapon, lay senseless on his couch. Never after did he pass
a quiet night, and pursued by the phantoms of his troubled
imagination, he expired while the palace re-echoed with his lamentable
groans.

  [146] Scripturarum sedulus perscrutator diversarum, Romanorum malleus
  et contemptor. (Matth. Paris, vol. ii, p. 876, fol. Lond. 1640.) A
  thorough searcher of the various Scriptures, a hammer to and a
  despiser of the Romans. Sixteen of his writings (Sermones et epistolæ)
  will be found in _Brown_, _app. ad Fasciculum_.

  [147] Nocte apparuit ei episcopos vultu severo, intuitu austero, ac
  voce terribili. Ibid. 883.

[Sidenote: OPPOSITION TO THE POPE.]

Grostête was not single in his opposition to the pope. Sewal,
archbishop of York, did the same, and "the more the pope cursed him,
the more the people blessed him."[148]--"Moderate your tyranny," said
the archbishop to the pontiff, "for the Lord said to Peter, _Feed_ my
sheep, and not _shear them_, _flay them_, or _devour them_."[149] The
pope smiled and let the bishop speak, because the king allowed the
pope to act. The power of England, which was constantly increasing,
was soon able to give more force to these protests.

  [148] Quanto magis a papa maledicebatur, tanto plus a populo
  benedicebatur. Ibid. ad ann. 1257.

  [149] _Pasce_ oves meas, non _tonde_, non _excoria_, non _eviscera_,
  vel devorando _consume_. Ibid. ad ann. 1258.

The nation was indeed growing in greatness. The madness of John, which
had caused the English people to lose their continental possessions,
had given them more unity and power. The Norman kings, being compelled
to renounce entirely the country which had been their cradle, had at
length made up their minds to look upon England as their home. The two
races, so long hostile, had melted one into the other. Free
institutions were formed; the laws were studied; and colleges were
founded. The language began to assume a regular form, and the ships of
England were already formidable at sea. For more than a century the
most brilliant victories attended the British armies. A king of France
was brought captive to London: an English king was crowned at Paris.
Even Spain and Italy felt the valour of these proud islanders. The
English people took their station in the foremost rank. Now the
character of a nation is never raised by halves. When the mighty ones
of the earth were seen to fall before her, England could no longer
crawl at the feet of an Italian priest.

At no period did her laws attack the papacy with so much energy. At
the beginning of the fourteenth century an Englishman having brought
to London one of the pope's bulls--a bull of an entirely spiritual
character, it was an excommunication--was prosecuted as a traitor to
the crown, and would have been hanged, had not the sentence, at the
chancellor's intercession, been changed to perpetual banishment.[150]
The _common law_ was the weapon the government then opposed to the
papal bulls. Shortly afterwards, in 1307, king Edward ordered the
sheriffs to resist the arrogant pretensions of the Romish agents. But
it is to two great men in the fourteenth century equally illustrious,
the one in the state, and the other in the church, that England is
indebted for the development of the protestant element in England.

  [150] Fuller's Church History, cent. xiv, p. 90, fol. Lond. 1655.

[Sidenote: BRADWARDINE'S CONVERSION.]

In 1346, an English army, 34,000 strong, met face to face at Crecy a
French army of 100,000 fighting men. Two individuals of very different
characters were in the English host. One of them was King Edward III,
a brave and ambitious prince, who, being resolved to recover for the
royal authority all its power, and for England all her glory, had
undertaken the conquest of France. The other was his chaplain
Bradwardine, a man of so humble a character that his meekness was
often taken for stupidity. And thus it was that on his receiving the
pallium at Avignon from the hands of the pope on his elevation to the
see of Canterbury, a jester mounted on an ass rode into the hall and
petitioned the pontiff to make him _primate_ instead of that imbecile
priest.

Bradwardine was one of the most pious men of the age, and to his
prayers his sovereign's victories were ascribed. He was also one of
the greatest geniuses of his time, and occupied the first rank among
astronomers, philosophers, and mathematicians.[151] The pride of
science had at first alienated him from the doctrine of the cross. But
one day while in the house of God and listening to the reading of the
Holy Scriptures, these words struck his ear: _It is not of him that
willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy_. His
ungrateful heart, he tells us, at first rejected this humiliating
doctrine with aversion. Yet the word of God had laid its powerful hold
upon him; he was converted to the truths he had despised, and
immediately began to set forth the doctrines of eternal grace at
Merton College, Oxford. He had drunk so deep at the fountain of
Scripture that the traditions of men concerned him but little, and he
was so absorbed in adoration in spirit and in truth, that he remarked
not outward superstitions. His lectures were eagerly listened to and
circulated through all Europe. The grace of God was their very
essence, as it was of the Reformation. With sorrow Bradwardine beheld
Pelagianism every where substituting a mere religion of externals for
inward Christianity, and on his knees he struggled for the salvation
of the church. "As in the times of old four hundred and fifty prophets
of Baal strove against a single prophet of God; so now, O Lord," he
exclaimed, "the number of those who strive with Pelagius against thy
free grace cannot be counted.[152] They pretend not to receive grace
freely, but to buy it.[153] The will of men (they say) should precede,
and thine should follow: theirs is the mistress, and thine the
servant.[154]... Alas! nearly the whole world is walking in error in
the steps of Pelagius.[155] Arise, O Lord, and judge thy cause." And
the Lord did arise, but not until after the death of this pious
archbishop, in the days of Wickliffe, who, when a youth, listened to
the lectures at Merton College, and especially in the days of Luther
and of Calvin. His contemporaries gave him the name of the _profound
doctor_.

  [151] His Arithmetic and Geometry have been published; but I am not
  aware if that is the case with his Astronomical Tables.

  [152] Quot, Domine, hodie cum Pelagio pro libero arbitrio contra
  gratuitam gratiam tuam pugnant? De causa Dei adversus Pelagium, libri
  tres, Lond. 1618.

  [153] Nequaquam gratuita sed vendita. Ibid.

  [154] Suam voluntatem præire ut dominam, tuam subsequi ut ancillam.
  Ibid.

  [155] Totus pæne mundus post Pelagium abiit in errorem. Ibid.

[Sidenote: STATUTES OF PROVISORS AND PRÆMUNIRE.]

If Bradwardine walked truthfully in the path of faith, his illustrious
patron Edward advanced triumphantly in the field of policy. Pope
Clement IV having decreed that the first two vacancies in the Anglican
church should be conferred on two of his cardinals: "France is
becoming _English_," said the courtiers to the king; "and by way of
compensation, England is becoming _Italian_." Edward, desirous of
guaranteeing the religious liberties of England, passed with the
consent of parliament in 1350 the statute of _provisors_, which made
void every ecclesiastical appointment contrary to the rights of the
king, the chapters, or the patrons. Thus the privileges of the
chapters and the liberty of the English Catholics, as well as the
independence of the crown, were protected against the invasion of
foreigners; and imprisonment or banishment for life was denounced upon
all offenders against the law.

This bold step alarmed the pontiff. Accordingly, three years after,
the king having nominated one of his secretaries to the see of
Durham--a man without any of the qualities becoming a bishop--the pope
readily confirmed the appointment. When some one expressed his
astonishment at this, the pope made answer: "If the king of England
had nominated _an ass_, I would have accepted him." This may remind us
of the _ass_ of Avignon; and it would seem that this humble animal at
that time played a significant part in the elections to the papacy.
But be that as it may, the pope withdrew his pretensions. "Empires
have their term," observes an historian at this place; "when once they
have reached it, they halt, they retrograde, they fall."[156]

  [156] Habent imperia suos terminos; huc cum venerint, sistunt,
  retrocedunt, ruunt. Fuller's Hist. cent. xiv, p. 116.

The term seemed to be drawing nearer every day. In the reign of Edward
III, between 1343 and 1353, again in 1364, and finally under Richard
II, in 1393, those stringent laws were passed which interdicted all
appeal to the court of Rome, all bulls from the Roman bishop, all
excommunications, etc., in a word, every act infringing on the rights
of the crown; and declared that whoever should bring such documents
into England, or receive, publish, or execute them, should be put out
of the king's protection, deprived of their property, attached in
their persons, and brought before the king in council to undergo their
trial according to the terms of the act. Such was the statute of
_Præmunire_.[157]

  [157] The most natural meaning of the word _præmunire_ (given more
  particularly to the act of 1393) seems to be that suggested by Fuller,
  cent. xiv, (p. 148): to fence and fortify the regal power from foreign
  assault. See the whole bill, _Ibid._ p. 145-147.

Great was the indignation of the Romans at the news of this law: "If
the statute of _mortmain_ put the pope into a sweat," says Fuller,
"this of _præmunire_ gave him a fit of fever." One pope called it an
"execrable statute,"--"a horrible crime."[158] Such are the terms
applied by the pontiffs to all that thwarts their ambition.

  [158] Execrabile statutum....foedum et turpe facinus. Martin V to the
  Duke of Bedford, Fuller, cent. xiv. p. 148.

[Sidenote: THE TWO WARS.]

Of the two wars carried on by Edward--the one against the King of
France, and the other against popery--the latter was the most
righteous and important. The benefits which this prince had hoped to
derive from his brilliant victories at Crecy and Poitiers dwindled
away almost entirely before his death; while his struggles with the
papacy, founded as they were on truth, have exerted even to our own
days an indisputable influence on the destinies of Great Britain. Yet
the prayers and the conquests of Bradwardine, who proclaimed in that
fallen age the doctrine of grace, produced effects still greater, not
only for the salvation of many souls, but for the liberty, moral
force, and greatness of England.




CHAPTER VII.

     The Mendicant Friars--Their Disorders and Popular
     Indignation--Wickliffe--His success--Speeches of the Peers
     against the Papal Tribute--Agreement of Bruges--Courtenay
     and Lancaster--Wickliffe before the Convocation--Altercation
     between Lancaster and Courtenay--Riot--Three Briefs against
     Wickliffe--Wickliffe at Lambeth--Mission of the _Poor
     Priests_--Their Preachings and Persecutions--Wickliffe and
     the Four Regents.


Thus in the first half of the fourteenth century, nearly two hundred
years before the Reformation, England appeared weary of the yoke of
Rome. Bradwardine was no more; but a man who had been his disciple was
about to succeed him, and without attaining to the highest functions,
to exhibit in his person the past and future tendencies of the church
of Christ in Great Britain. The English Reformation did not begin with
Henry VIII: the revival of the sixteenth century is but a link in the
chain commencing with the apostles and reaching to us.

[Sidenote: THE BEGGING FRIARS.]

The resistance of Edward III to the papacy _without_ had not
suppressed the papacy _within_. The mendicant friars, and particularly
the Franciscans, those fanatical soldiers of the pope, were
endeavouring by pious frauds to monopolize the wealth of the country.
"Every year," said they, "Saint Francis descends from heaven to
purgatory, and delivers the souls of all those who were buried in the
dress of his order." These friars used to kidnap children from their
parents and shut them up in monasteries. They affected to be poor, and
with a wallet on their back, begged with a piteous air from both high
and low; but at the same time they dwelt in palaces, heaped up
treasures, dressed in costly garments, and wasted their time in
luxurious entertainments.[159] The least of them looked upon
themselves as _lords_, and those who wore the doctor's cap considered
themselves _kings_. While they diverted themselves, eating and
drinking at their well-spread tables, they used to send ignorant
uneducated persons in their place to preach fables and legends to
amuse and plunder the people.[160] If any rich man talked of giving
alms to the poor and not to the monks, they exclaimed loudly against
such impiety, and declared with threatening voices: "If you do so we
will leave the country, and return accompanied by a legion of
glittering helmets."[161] Public indignation was at its height. "The
monks and priests of Rome," was the cry, "are eating us away like a
cancer. God must deliver us or the people will perish.... Woe be to
them! the cup of wrath will run over. Men of holy church shall be
despised as carrion, as dogs shall they be cast out in open
places."[162]

  [159] When they have overmuch riches, both in great waste houses and
  precious clothes, in great feasts and many jewels and treasures.
  Wickliffe's Tracts and Treatises, edited by the Wickliffe Society, p.
  224.

  [160] Ibid, 240.

  [161] Come again with bright heads. Ibid.

  [162] Wickliffe, The Last Age of the Church.

The arrogance of Rome made the cup run over. Pope Urban V, heedless of
the laurels won by the conqueror at Crecy and Poitiers, summoned
Edward III to recognize him as legitimate sovereign of England, and to
pay as feudal tribute the annual rent of one thousand marcs. In case
of refusal the king was to appear before him at Rome. For thirty-three
years the popes had never mentioned the tribute accorded by John to
Innocent III, and which had always been paid very irregularly. The
conqueror of the Valois was irritated by this insolence on the part of
an Italian bishop, and called on God to avenge England. From Oxford
came forth the avenger.

[Sidenote: JOHN WICKLIFFE.]

John Wickliffe, born in 1324, in a little village in Yorkshire, was
one of the students who attended the lectures of the pious Bradwardine
at Merton College. He was in the flower of his age, and produced a
great sensation in the university. In 1348, a terrible pestilence,
which is said to have carried off half the human race, appeared in
England after successively devastating Asia and the continent of
Europe. This visitation of the Almighty sounded like the trumpet of
the judgment-day in the heart of Wickliffe. Alarmed at the thoughts of
eternity, the young man--for he was then only twenty-four years
old--passed days and nights in his cell groaning and sighing, and
calling upon God to show him the path he ought to follow.[163] He
found it in the Holy Scriptures, and resolved to make it known to
others. He commenced with prudence; but being elected in 1361 warden
of Balliol, and in 1365 warden of Canterbury College also, he began to
set forth the doctrine of faith in a more energetic manner. His
biblical and philosophical studies, his knowledge of theology, his
penetrating mind, the purity of his manners, and his unbending
courage, rendered him the object of general admiration. A profound
teacher, like his master, and an eloquent preacher, he demonstrated to
the learned during the course of the week what he intended to preach,
and on Sunday he preached to the people what he had previously
demonstrated. His disputations gave strength to his sermons, and his
sermons shed light upon his disputations. He accused the clergy of
having banished the Holy Scriptures, and required that the authority
of the word of God should be re-established in the church. Loud
acclamations crowned these discussions, and the crowd of vulgar minds
trembled with indignation when they heard these shouts of applause.

  [163] Long debating and deliberating with himself, with many secret
  sighs. Fox, Acts and M, i, p. 485, fol. Lond. 1684.

Wickliffe was forty years old when the papal arrogance stirred England
to its depths. Being at once an able politician and a fervent
Christian, he vigorously defended the rights of the crown against the
Romish aggression, and by his arguments not only enlightened his
fellow-countrymen generally, but stirred up the zeal of several
members of both houses of parliament.

[Sidenote: THE LORDS AGAINST THE PAPAL TRIBUTE.]

The parliament assembled, and never perhaps had it been summoned on a
question which excited to so high a degree the emotions of England,
and indeed of Christendom. The debates in the House of Lords were
especially remarkable: all the arguments of Wickliffe were reproduced.
"Feudal _tribute_ is due," said one, "only to him who can grant
feudal _protection_ in return. Now how can the pope wage war to
protect his fiefs?"--"Is it as vassal of the crown or as feudal
superior," asked another, "that the pope demands part of our property?
Urban V will not accept the first of these titles.... Well and good!
but the English people will not acknowledge the second." "Why," said a
third, "was this tribute originally granted? To pay the pope for
absolving John.... His demand, then, is mere simony, a kind of
clerical swindling, which the lords spiritual and temporal should
indignantly oppose."--"No," said another speaker, "England belongs not
to the pope. The pope is but a man, subject to sin; but Christ is the
Lord of lords, and this kingdom is held directly and solely of Christ
alone."[164] Thus spoke the lords inspired by Wickliffe. Parliament
decided unanimously that no prince had the right to alienate the
sovereignty of the kingdom without the consent of the other two
estates, and that if the pontiff should attempt to proceed against the
king of England as his vassal, the nation should rise in a body to
maintain the independence of the crown.

  [164] These opinions are reported by Wickliffe, in a treatise
  preserved in the _Selden MSS._ and printed by Mr. J. Lewis, in his
  History of Wickliffe, App. No. 30, p. 349. He was present during the
  debate; _quam audivi in quodam concilio a dominis secularibus_. As I
  heard in a certain consultation among the lords temporal.

To no purpose did this generous resolution excite the wrath of the
partisans of Rome; to no purpose did they assert that, by the canon
law, the king ought to be deprived of his fief, and, that England now
belonged to the pope: "No," replied Wickliffe, "the canon law has no
force when it is opposed to the word of God." Edward III made
Wickliffe one of his chaplains, and the papacy has ceased from that
hour to lay claim--in explicit terms at least--to the Sovereignty of
England.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE BEFORE THE CONVOCATION.]

When the pope gave up his temporal he was desirous, at the very least,
of keeping up his ecclesiastical pretensions, and to procure the
repeal of the statutes of _Præmunire_ and _Provisors_. It was
accordingly resolved to hold a conference at Bruges to treat of this
question, and Wickliffe, who had been created doctor of theology two
years before, proceeded thither with the other commissioners in April
1374. They came to an arrangement in 1375 that the king should bind
himself to repeal the penalties denounced against the pontifical
agents, and that the pope should confirm the king's ecclesiastical
presentations.[165] But the nation was not pleased with this
compromise. "The clerks sent from Rome," said the Commons, "are more
dangerous for the kingdom than Jews or Saracens: every papal agent
resident in England, and every Englishman living at the court of Rome,
should be punished with death." Such was the language of the _Good
Parliament_. In the fourteenth century the English nation called a
parliament _good_ which did not yield to the papacy.

  [165] Rymer, vii, p. 33, 83-88.

Wickliffe, after his return to England, was presented to the rectory
of Lutterworth, and from that time a practical activity was added to
his academic influence. At Oxford he spoke as a master to the young
theologians; in his parish he addressed the people as a preacher and
as a pastor. "The Gospel," said he, "is the only source of religion.
The Roman pontiff is a mere cut-purse,[166] and, far from having the
right to reprimand the whole world, he may be lawfully reproved by his
inferiors, and even by laymen."

  [166] The proud worldly priest of Rome, and the most cursed of
  clippers and purse-kervers. Lewis, History of Wickliffe, p. 37.
  Oxford, 1820.

The papacy grew alarmed. Courtenay, son of the Earl of Devonshire, an
imperious but grave priest, and full of zeal for what he believed to
be the truth, had recently been appointed to the see of London. In
parliament he had resisted Wickliffe's patron, John of Gaunt, duke of
Lancaster, third son of Edward III., and head of the house of that
name. The bishop, observing that the doctrines of the reformer were
spreading among the people, both high and low, charged him with
heresy, and summoned him to appear before the convocation assembled in
St Paul's Cathedral.

[Sidenote: COURTENAY AND LANCASTER.]

On the 19th February, 1377, an immense crowd, heated with fanaticism,
thronged the approaches to the church and filled its aisles, while the
citizens favourable to the reform remained concealed in their houses.
Wickliffe moved forward, preceded by Lord Percy, marshal of England,
and supported by the Duke of Lancaster, who defended him from purely
political motives. He was followed by four bachelors of divinity, his
counsel, and passed through the hostile multitude who looked upon
Lancaster as the enemy of their liberties, and upon himself as the
enemy of the church. "Let not the sight of these bishops make you
shrink a hair's-breadth in your profession of faith," said the prince
to the doctor. "They are unlearned; and as for this concourse of
people, fear nothing, we are here to defend you."[167] When the
reformer had crossed the threshold of the cathedral, the crowd within
appeared like a solid wall; and, notwithstanding the efforts of the
earl-marshal, Wickliffe and Lancaster could not advance. The people
swayed to and fro, hands were raised in violence, and loud hootings
re-echoed through the building. At length Percy made an opening in the
dense multitude, and Wickliffe passed on.

  [167] Fox, Acts, i, p. 437. fol. Lond. 1684.

The haughty Courtenay, who had been commissioned by the archbishop to
preside over the assembly, watched these strange movements with
anxiety, and beheld with displeasure the learned doctor accompanied by
the two most powerful men in England. He said nothing to the Duke of
Lancaster, who at that time administered the kingdom, but turning
towards Percy observed sharply: "If I had known, my lord, that you
claimed to be master in this church, I would have taken measures to
prevent your entrance." Lancaster coldly rejoined: "He shall keep such
mastery here, though you say nay." Percy now turned to Wickliffe, who
had remained standing and said: "Sit down and rest yourself." At this
Courtenay gave way to his anger, and exclaimed in a loud tone: "He
must not sit down; criminals stand before their judges." Lancaster,
indignant that a learned doctor of England should be refused a favour
to which his age alone entitled him (for he was between fifty and
sixty) made answer to the bishop: "My lord, you are very arrogant;
take care ... or I may bring down your pride, and not yours only, but
that of all the prelacy in England."[168]--"Do me all the harm you
can," was Courtenay's haughty reply. The prince rejoined with some
emotion: "You are insolent, my lord. You think, no doubt, you can
trust on your family ... but your relations will have trouble enough
to protect themselves." To this the bishop nobly replied: "My
confidence is not in my parents nor in any man; but only in God, in
whom I trust, and by whose assistance I will be bold to speak the
truth." Lancaster, who saw hypocrisy only in these words, turned to
one of his attendants, and whispered in his ear, but so loud as to be
heard by the bystanders: "I would rather pluck the bishop by the hair
of his head out of his chair, than take this at his hands." Every
impartial reader must confess that the prelate spoke with greater
dignity than the prince. Lancaster had hardly uttered these imprudent
words before the bishop's partizans fell upon him and Percy, and even
upon Wickliffe, who alone had remained calm.[169] The two noblemen
resisted, their friends and servants defended them, the uproar became
extreme, and there was no hope of restoring tranquillity. The two
lords escaped with difficulty, and the assembly broke up in great
confusion.

  [168] Fuller, Church Hist. cent. xiv. p. 135.

  [169] Fell furiously on the lords. Ibid. 136.

[Sidenote: RIOT.]

On the following day the earl-marshal having called upon parliament to
apprehend the disturbers of the public peace, the clerical party
uniting with the enemies of Lancaster, filled the streets with their
clamour; and while the duke and the earl escaped by the Thames, the
mob collected before Percy's house, broke down the doors, searched
every chamber, and thrust their swords into every dark corner. When
they found that he had escaped, the rioters, imagining that he was
concealed in Lancaster's palace, rushed to the Savoy, at that time the
most magnificent building in the kingdom. They killed a priest who
endeavoured to stay them, tore down the ducal arms, and hung them on
the gallows like those of a traitor. They would have gone still
farther if the bishop had not very opportunely reminded them that they
were _in Lent_. As for Wickliffe, he was dismissed with an injunction
against preaching his doctrines.

But this decision of the priests was not ratified by the people of
England. Public opinion declared in favour of Wickliffe. "If he is
guilty," said they, "why is he not punished? If he is innocent, why is
he ordered to be silent? If he is the weakest in power, he is the
strongest in truth!" And so indeed he was, and never had he spoken
with such energy. He openly attacked the pretended apostolical chair,
and declared that the _two_ antipopes who sat at Rome and Avignon
together made _one_ antichrist. Being now in opposition to the pope,
Wickliffe was soon to confess that Christ alone was king of the
church; and that it is not possible for a man to be excommunicated,
unless first and principally he be excommunicated by himself.[170]

  [170] Vaughan's Wickliffe, Appendix, vol. i, p. 434.

Rome could not close her ears. Wickliffe's enemies sent thither
nineteen propositions which they ascribed to him, and in the month of
June 1377, just as Richard II, son of the Black Prince, a child eleven
years old, was ascending the throne, three letters from Gregory XI,
addressed to the king, the archbishop of Canterbury, and the
university of Oxford, denounced Wickliffe as a heretic, and called
upon them to proceed against him as against a common thief. The
archbishop issued the citation: the crown and the university were
silent.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE AT LAMBETH.]

On the appointed day, Wickliffe, unaccompanied by either Lancaster or
Percy, proceeded to the archiepiscopal chapel at Lambeth. "Men
expected he should be devoured," says an historian; "being brought
into the lion's den."[171] But the burgesses had taken the prince's
place. The assault of Rome had aroused the friends of liberty and
truth in England. "The pope's briefs," said they, "ought to have no
effect in the realm without the king's consent. Every man is master in
his own house."

  [171] Fuller's Church Hist. cent. xiv, p. 137.

The archbishop had scarcely opened the sitting, when Sir Louis
Clifford entered the chapel, and forbade the court, on the part of the
queen-mother, to proceed against the reformer. The bishops were struck
with a panic-fear: "they bent their heads," says a Roman-catholic
historian, "like a reed before the wind."[172] Wickliffe retired after
handing in a protest. "In the first place," said he, "I resolve with
my whole heart, and by the grace of God, to be a sincere Christian;
and, while my life shall last, to profess and defend the law of Christ
so far as I have power."[173] Wickliffe's enemies attacked this
protest, and one of them eagerly maintained that whatever the pope
ordered should be looked upon as right. "What!" answered the reformer;
"the pope may then exclude from the canon of the scriptures any book
that displeases him, and alter the Bible at pleasure?" Wickliffe
thought that Rome, unsettling the grounds of infallibility, had
transferred it from the Scriptures to the pope, and was desirous of
restoring it to its true place, and re-establishing authority in the
church on a truly divine foundation.

  [172] Walsingham, Hist. Angliæ Major, p. 203.

  [173] Propono et volo esse ex integro Christianus, et quamdiu manserit
  in me halitus, profitens verbo et opere legem Christi. Vaughan's
  Wickliffe, i. p. 426.

A great change was now taking place in the reformer. Busying himself
less about the kingdom of England, he occupied himself more about the
kingdom of Christ. In him the political phasis was followed by the
religious. To carry the glad tidings of the Gospel into the remotest
hamlets, was now the great idea which possessed Wickliffe. If begging
friars (said he) stroll over the country, preaching the legends of
saints and the history of the Trojan war, we must do for God's glory
what they do to fill their wallets, and form a vast itinerant
evangelization to convert souls to Jesus Christ. Turning to the most
pious of his disciples, he said to them: "Go and preach, it is the
sublimest work; but imitate not the priests whom we see after the
sermon sitting in the ale-houses, or at the gaming-table, or wasting
their time in hunting. After your sermon is ended, do you visit the
sick, the aged, the poor, the blind, and the lame, and succour them
according to your ability." Such was the new practical theology which
Wickliffe inaugurated--it was that of Christ himself.

[Sidenote: PREACHING AND PERSECUTION.]

The "poor priests," as they were called, set off barefoot, a staff in
their hands, clothed in a coarse robe, living on alms, and satisfied
with the plainest food. They stopped in the fields near some village,
in the churchyards, in the market-places of the towns, and sometimes
in the churches even.[174] The people, among whom they were
favourites, thronged around them, as the men of Northumbria had done
at Aidan's preaching. They spoke with a popular eloquence that
entirely won over those who listened to them. Of these missionaries
none was more beloved than John Ashton. He might be seen wandering
over the country in every direction, or seated at some cottage hearth,
or alone in some retired crossway, preaching to an attentive crowd.
Missions of this kind have constantly revived in England at the great
epochs of the church.

  [174] A private statute made by the clergy. Fox, Acts, i, 503.

The "poor priests" were not content with mere polemics: they preached
the great mystery of godliness. "An angel could have made no
propitiation for man," one day exclaimed their master Wickliffe; "for
the nature which has sinned is not that of the angels. The mediator
must needs be a man; but every man being indebted to God for every
thing that he is able to do, this man must needs have infinite merit,
and be at the same time God."[175]

  [175] Exposition of the Decalogue.

The clergy became alarmed, and a law was passed commanding every
king's officer to commit the preachers and their followers to
prison.[176] In consequence of this, as soon as the humble missionary
began to preach, the monks set themselves in motion. They watched him
from the windows of their cells, at the street-corners, or from behind
a hedge, and then hastened off to procure assistance. But when the
constables approached, a body of stout bold men stood forth, with arms
in their hands, who surrounded the preacher, and zealously protected
him against the attacks of the clergy. Carnal weapons were thus
mingled with the preachings of the word of peace. The poor priests
returned to their master: Wickliffe comforted them, advised with them,
and then they departed once more. Every day this evangelization
reached some new spot, and the light was thus penetrating into every
quarter of England, when the reformer was suddenly stopped in his
work.

  [176] Fox, Acts, i. p. 503.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE'S PROPHECY.]

Wickliffe was at Oxford in the year 1379, busied in the discharge of
his duties as professor of divinity, when he fell dangerously ill. His
was not a strong constitution; and work, age, and above all
persecution had weakened him. Great was the joy in the monasteries;
but for that joy to be complete, the _heretic_ must recant. Every
effort was made to bring this about in his last moments.

The four regents, who represented the four religious orders,
accompanied by four aldermen, hastened to the bedside of the dying
man, hoping to frighten him by threatening him with the vengeance of
Heaven. They found him calm and serene. "You have death on your lips,"
said they; "be touched by your faults, and retract in our presence all
that you have said to our injury." Wickliffe remained silent, and the
monks flattered themselves with an easy victory. But the nearer the
reformer approached eternity, the greater was his horror of monkery.
The consolation he had found in Jesus Christ had given him fresh
energy. He begged his servant to raise him on his couch. Then feeble
and pale, and scarcely able to support himself, he turned towards the
friars, who were waiting for his recantation, and opening his livid
lips, and fixing on them a piercing look, he said with emphasis: "I
shall not die but live; and again declare the evil deeds of the
friars." We might almost picture to ourselves the spirit of Elijah
threatening the priests of Baal. The regents and their companions
looked at each other with astonishment. They left the room in
confusion, and the reformer recovered to put the finishing touch to
the most important of his works against the monks and against the
pope.[177]

  [177] Petrie's Church History, i. p. 504.




CHAPTER VIII.

     The Bible--Wickliffe's Translation--Effects of its
     Publication--Opposition of the Clergy--Wickliffe's Fourth
     Phasis--Transubstantiation--Excommunication--Wickliffe's
     Firmness--Wat Tyler--The Synod--The condemned
     Propositions--Wickliffe's Petition--Wickliffe before the
     Primate at Oxford--Wickliffe summoned to Rome--His
     Answer--The Trialogue--His Death--And Character--His
     teaching--His Ecclesiastical Views--A Prophecy.


[Sidenote: THE BIBLE.]

Wickliffe's ministry had followed a progressive course. At first he
had attacked the papacy; next he preached the gospel to the poor; he
could take one more step and put the people in permanent possession
of the word of God. This was the third phase of his activity.

Scholasticism had banished the Scriptures into a mysterious obscurity.
It is true that Bede had translated the Gospel of St. John; that the
learned men at Alfred's court had translated the four evangelists;
that Elfric in the reign of Ethelred had translated some books of the
Old Testament; that an Anglo-Norman priest had paraphrased the Gospels
and the acts; that Richard Rolle, "the hermit of Hampole," and some
pious clerks in the fourteenth century, had produced a version of the
Psalms, the Gospels, and Epistles:--but these rare volumes were
hidden, like theological curiosities, in the libraries of a few
convents. It was then a maxim that the reading of the Bible was
injurious to the laity; and accordingly the priests forbade it, just
as the Brahmins forbid the Shasters to the Hindoos. Oral tradition
alone preserved among the people the histories of the Holy Scriptures,
mingled with legends of the saints. The time appeared ripe for the
publication of a Bible. The increase of population, the attention the
English were beginning to devote to their own language, the
development which the system of representative government had
received, the awakening of the human mind:--all these circumstances
favoured the reformer's design.

Wickliffe was ignorant indeed of Greek and Hebrew; but was it nothing
to shake off the dust which for ages had covered the Latin Bible, and
to translate it into English? He was a good Latin scholar, of sound
understanding and great penetration; but above all he loved the Bible,
he understood it, and desired to communicate this treasure to others.
Let us imagine him in his quiet study: on his table is the Vulgate
text, corrected after the best manuscripts; and lying open around him
are the commentaries of the doctors of the church, especially those of
St. Jerome and Nicholas Lyrensis. Between ten and fifteen years he
steadily prosecuted his task; learned men aided him with their advice,
and one of them, Nicholas Hereford, appears to have translated a few
chapters for him. At last in 1380 it was completed. This was a great
event in the religious history of England, who, outstripping the
nations on the continent, took her station in the foremost rank in the
great work of disseminating the Scriptures.

[Sidenote: OPPOSITION OF THE CLERGY.]

As soon as the translation was finished, the labour of the copyists
began, and the Bible was erelong widely circulated either wholly or in
portions. The reception of the work surpassed Wickliffe's
expectations. The Holy Scriptures exercised a reviving influence over
men's hearts; minds were enlightened; souls were converted; the voices
of the "poor priests" had done little in comparison with this voice;
something new had entered into the world. Citizens, soldiers, and the
lower classes welcomed this new era with acclamations; the high-born
curiously examined the unknown book; and even Anne of Luxemburg, wife
of Richard II, having learnt English, began to read the Gospels
diligently. She did more than this: she made them known to Arundel,
archbishop of York and chancellor, and afterwards a persecutor, but
who now, struck at the sight of a foreign lady--of a queen, humbly
devoting her leisure to the study of _such virtuous books_,[178]
commenced reading them himself, and rebuked the prelates who neglected
this holy pursuit. "You could not meet two persons on the highway,"
says a contemporary writer, "but one of them was Wickliffe's
disciple."

  [178] Fox, Acts, i. p. 578.

Yet all in England did not equally rejoice: the lower clergy opposed
this enthusiasm with complaints and maledictions. "Master John
Wickliffe, by translating the Gospel into English," said the monks,
"has rendered it more acceptable and more intelligible to laymen and
even to women, than it had hitherto been to learned and intelligent
clerks!... The Gospel pearl is every where cast out and trodden under
foot of swine."[179] New contests arose for the reformer. Wherever he
bent his steps, he was violently attacked. "It is heresy," cried the
monks, "to speak of Holy Scripture in English."[180]--"Since the
church has approved of the four Gospels, she would have been just as
able to reject them and admit others! The church sanctions and
condemns what she pleases.... Learn to believe in the church rather
than in the Gospel." These clamours did not alarm Wickliffe. "Many
nations have had the Bible in their own language. The Bible is the
faith of the church. Though the pope and all his clerks should
disappear from the face of the earth," said he, "our faith would not
fail, for it is founded on Jesus alone, our Master and our God." But
Wickliffe did not stand alone: in the palace as in the cottage, and
even in parliament, the rights of Holy Scripture found defenders. A
motion having been made in the Upper House (1390) to seize all the
copies of the Bible, the Duke of Lancaster exclaimed: "Are we then the
very dregs of humanity, that we cannot possess the laws of our religion
in our own tongue?"[181]

  [179] Evangelica margarita spargitur et a porcis conculcatur.
  Knyghton, De eventibus Angliæ, p. 264.

  [180] It is heresy to speak of the Holy Scripture in English.
  Wickliffe's Wicket, p. 4. Oxford, 1612, quarto.

  [181] Weber, Akatholische Kirchen, i, p. 81.

[Sidenote: TRANSUBSTANTIATION.]

Having given his fellow-countrymen the Bible, Wickliffe began to
reflect on its contents. This was a new step in his onward path. There
comes a moment when the Christian, saved by a lively faith, feels the
need of giving an account to himself of this faith, and this
originates the science of theology. This is a natural movement: if the
child, who at first possesses sensations and affections only, feels
the want, as he grows up, of reflection and knowledge, why should it
not be the same with the Christian? Politics--home missions--Holy
Scripture--had engaged Wickliffe in succession; theology had its turn,
and this was the fourth phase of his life. Yet he did not penetrate to
the same degree as the men of the sixteenth century into the depths of
the Christian doctrine; and he attached himself in a more especial
manner to those ecclesiastical dogmas which were more closely
connected with the presumptuous hierarchy and the simoniacal gains of
Rome,--such as transubstantiation. The Anglo-Saxon church had not
professed this doctrine. "The host is the body of Christ, not bodily
but spiritually," said Elfric in the tenth century in a letter
addressed to the archbishop of York; but Lanfranc, the opponent of
Berengarius, had taught England that at the word of a priest God
quitted heaven and descended on the altar. Wickliffe undertook to
overthrow the pedestal on which the pride of the priesthood was
founded. "The eucharist is naturally bread and wine," he taught at
Oxford in 1381; "but by virtue of the sacramental words it contains in
every part the real body and blood of Christ." He did not stop here.
"The consecrated wafer which we see on the altar," said he, "is not
Christ, nor any part of him, but his efficient sign."[182] He
oscillated between these two shades of doctrine; but to the first he
more habitually attached himself. He denied the sacrifice of the mass
offered by the priest, because it was substituted for the sacrifice of
the cross offered up by Jesus Christ; and rejected transubstantiation,
because it nullified the spiritual and living presence of the Lord.

  [182] Efficax ejus signum. Conclusio 1^{ma.} Vaughan, ii, p. 436, App.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE'S FIRMNESS.]

When Wickliffe's enemies heard these propositions, they appeared
horror-stricken, and yet in secret they were delighted at the prospect
of destroying him. They met together, examined twelve theses he had
published, and pronounced against him suspension from all teaching,
imprisonment, and the greater excommunication. At the same time his
friends became alarmed, their zeal cooled, and many of them forsook
him. The Duke of Lancaster, in particular, could not follow him into
this new sphere. That prince had no objection to an ecclesiastical
opposition which might aid the political power, and for that purpose
he had tried to enlist the reformer's talents and courage; but he
feared a dogmatic opposition that might compromise him. The sky was
heavy with clouds; Wickliffe was alone.

The storm soon burst upon him. One day, while seated in his doctoral
chair in the Augustine school, and calmly explaining the nature of the
eucharist, an officer entered the hall, and read the sentence of
condemnation. It was the design of his enemies to humble the professor
in the eyes of his disciples. Lancaster immediately became alarmed,
and hastening to his old friend begged him--ordered him even--to
trouble himself no more about this matter. Attacked on every side,
Wickliffe for a time remained silent. Shall he sacrifice the truth to
save his reputation--his repose--perhaps his life? Shall expediency
get the better of faith,--Lancaster prevail over Wickliffe? No: his
courage was invincible. "Since the year of our Lord 1000," said he,
"all the doctors have been in error about the sacrament of the
altar--except, perhaps, it may be Berengarius. How canst thou, O
priest, who art but a man, make thy Maker? What! the thing that
groweth in the fields--that ear which thou pluckest to-day, shall be
God to-morrow!... As you cannot make the works which he made, how
shall ye make Him who made the works?[183] Woe to the adulterous
generation that believeth the testimony of Innocent rather than of the
Gospel."[184] Wickliffe called upon his adversaries to refute the
opinions they had condemned, and finding that they threatened him with
a civil penalty (imprisonment), he appealed to the king.

  [183] Wycleff's Wyckett, Tracts, pp. 276, 279.

  [184] Væ generationi adulteræ quæ plus credit testimonio Innocentii
  quam sensui Evangelii. Confessio, Vaughan, ii, 453, App.

The time was not favourable for such an appeal. A fatal circumstance
increased Wickliffe's danger. Wat Tyler and a dissolute priest named
Ball, taking advantage of the ill-will excited by the rapacity and
brutality of the royal tax-gatherers, had occupied London with 100,000
men. John Ball kept up the spirits of the insurgents, not by
expositions of the gospel, like Wickliffe's _poor priests_, but by
fiery comments on the distich they had chosen for their device:--

    When Adam delved and Eve span,
    Who was then the gentleman?

[Sidenote: THE CONDEMNED PROPOSITIONS.]

There were many who felt no scruple in ascribing these disorders to
the reformer, who was quite innocent of them; and Courtenay, bishop of
London, having been translated to the see of Canterbury, lost no time
in convoking a synod to pronounce on this matter of Wickliffe's. They
met in the middle of May, about two o'clock in the afternoon, and were
proceeding to pronounce sentence when an earthquake, which shook the
city of London and all Britain, so alarmed the members of the council
that they unanimously demanded the adjournment of a decision which
appeared so manifestly rebuked by God. But the archbishop skilfully
turned this strange phenomenon to his own purposes: "Know you not,"
said he, "that the noxious vapours which catch fire in the bosom of
the earth, and give rise to these phenomena which alarm you, loose all
their force when they burst forth? Well, in like manner, by rejecting
the wicked from our community, we shall put an end to the convulsions
of the church." The bishops regained their courage; and one of the
primate's officers read ten propositions, said to be Wickliffe's, but
ascribing to him certain errors of which he was quite innocent. The
following most excited the anger of the priests: "God must obey the
devil.[185] After Urban VI we must receive no one as pope, but live
according to the manner of the _Greeks_." The ten propositions were
condemned as heretical, and the archbishop enjoined all persons to
shun, as they would a venomous serpent, all who should preach the
aforesaid errors. "If we permit this heretic to appeal continually to
the passions of the people," said the primate to the king, "our
destruction is inevitable. We must silence these _lollards_--these
psalm-singers."[186] The king gave authority "to confine in the
prisons of the state any who should maintain the condemned
propositions."

  [185] Quod Deus debet obedire diabolo. Mansi, xxvi. p. 695. Wickliffe
  denied having written or spoken the sentiment here ascribed to him.

  [186] From _lollen_, to sing; as _beggards_ (beggars) from _beggen_.

Day by day the circle contracted around Wickliffe. The prudent
Repingdon, the learned Hereford, and even the eloquent Ashton, the
firmest of the three, departed from him. The veteran champion of the
truth which had once gathered a whole nation round it, had reached the
days when "strong men shall bow themselves," and now, when harassed by
persecution, he found himself alone. But boldly he uplifted his hoary
head and exclaimed: "The doctrine of the gospel shall never perish;
and if the earth once quaked, it was because they condemned Jesus
Christ."

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE BEFORE THE PRIMATE.]

He did not stop here. In proportion as his physical strength
decreased, his moral strength increased. Instead of parrying the
blows aimed at him, he resolved on dealing more terrible ones still.
He knew that if the king and the nobility were for the priests, the
lower house and the citizens were for liberty and truth. He therefore
presented a bold petition to the Commons in the month of November
1382. "Since Jesus Christ shed his blood to free his church, I demand
its freedom. I demand that every one may leave those gloomy walls [the
convents], within which a tyrannical law prevails, and embrace a
simple and peaceful life under the open vault of heaven. I demand that
the poor inhabitants of our towns and villages be not constrained to
furnish a worldly priest, often a vicious man and a heretic, with the
means of satisfying his ostentation, his gluttony, and his
licentiousness--of buying a showy horse, costly saddles, bridles with
tinkling bells, rich garments, and soft furs, while they see their
wives, children, and neighbours, dying of hunger."[187] The House of
Commons, recollecting that they had not given their consent to the
persecuting statute drawn up by the clergy and approved by the king
and the lords, demanded its repeal. Was the Reformation about to begin
by the will of the people?

  [187] A Complaint of John Wycleff. Tracts and Treaties edited by the
  Wickliffe Society, p. 268.

Courtenay, indignant at this intervention of the Commons, and ever
stimulated by a zeal for his church, which would have been better
directed towards the word of God, visited Oxford in November 1382, and
having gathered round him a number of bishops, doctors, priests,
students, and laymen, summoned Wickliffe before him. Forty years ago
the reformer had come up to the university: Oxford had become his home
... and now it was turning against him! Weakened by labours, by
trials, by that ardent soul which preyed upon his feeble body, he
might have refused to appear. But Wickliffe, who never feared the face
of man, came before them with a good conscience. We may conjecture
that there were among the crowd some disciples who felt their hearts
burn at the sight of their master; but no outward sign indicated their
emotion. The solemn silence of a court of justice had succeeded the
shouts of enthusiastic youths. Yet Wickliffe did not despair: he
raised his venerable head, and turned to Courtenay with that confident
look which had made the regents of Oxford shrink away. Growing wroth
against the _priests of Baal_, he reproached them with disseminating
error in order to sell their masses. Then he stopped, and uttered
these simple and energetic words: "The truth shall prevail!"[188]
Having thus spoken he prepared to leave the court: his enemies dared
not say a word; and, like his divine master at Nazareth, he passed
through the midst of them, and no man ventured to stop him. He then
withdrew to his cure at Lutterworth.

  [188] Finaliter veritas vincet eos. Vaughan, Appendix, ii. p. 453.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE SUMMONED TO ROME.]

He had not yet reached the harbour. He was living peacefully among his
books and his parishioners, and the priests seemed inclined to leave
him alone, when another blow was aimed at him. A papal brief summoned
him to Rome, to appear before that tribunal which had so often shed
the blood of its adversaries. His bodily infirmities convinced him
that he could not obey this summons. But if Wickliffe refused to hear
Urban, Urban could not choose but hear Wickliffe. The church was at
that time divided between two chiefs: France, Scotland, Savoy,
Lorraine, Castile, and Aragon acknowledged Clement VII; while Italy,
England, Germany, Sweden, Poland, and Hungary acknowledged Urban VI.
Wickliffe shall tell us who is the true head of the church universal.
And while the two popes were excommunicating and abusing each other,
and selling heaven and earth for their own gain, the reformer was
confessing that incorruptible Word, which establishes real unity in
the church. "I believe," said he, "that the Gospel of Christ is the
whole body of God's law. I believe that Christ, who gave it to us, is
very God and very man, and that this Gospel revelation is,
accordingly, superior to all other parts of Holy Scripture.[189] I
believe that the bishop of Rome is bound more than all other men to
submit to it, for the greatness among Christ's disciples did not
consist in worldly dignity or honours, but in the exact following of
Christ in his life and manners. No faithful man ought to follow the
pope, but in such points as he hath followed Jesus Christ. The pope
ought to leave unto the secular power all temporal dominion and rule;
and thereunto effectually more and more exhort his whole clergy.... If
I could labour according to my desire in mine own person, I would
surely present myself before the bishop of Rome, but the Lord hath
otherwise visited me to the contrary, and hath taught me rather to
obey God than men."[190]

  [189] This is the reading of the Bodleian manuscript--"and be [by]
  this it passes all other laws." In Fox, Wickliffe appears to ascribe
  to Christ himself this superiority over all Scripture,--a distinction
  hardly in the mind of the reformer or of his age.

  [190] An Epistle of J. Wickliffe to Pope Urban VI. Fox, Acts, i. p.
  507, fol. Lond. 1684; also Lewis, Wickliffe, p. 333, Append.

Urban, who at that moment chanced to be very busied in his contest
with Clement, did not think it prudent to begin another with
Wickliffe, and so let the matter rest there. From this time the
doctor passed the remainder of his days in peace in the company of
three personages, two of whom were his particular friends, and the
third his constant adversary: these were _Aletheia_, _Phronesis_, and
_Pseudes_. _Aletheia_ (truth) proposed questions; _Pseudes_
(falsehood) urged objections; and _Phronesis_ (understanding) laid
down the sound doctrine. These three characters carried on a
conversation (_trialogue_) in which great truths were boldly
professed. The opposition between the pope and Christ--between the
canons of Romanism and the Bible--was painted in striking colours.
This is one of the primary truths which the church must never forget.
"The church has fallen," said one of the interlocutors in the work in
question, "because she has abandoned the Gospel, and preferred the
laws of the pope. Although there should be a hundred popes in the
world at once, and all the friars living should be transformed into
cardinals, we must withhold our confidence unless so far as they are
founded in Holy Scripture."[191]

  [191] Ideo si essent centum papæ, et omnes fratres essent versi in
  cardinales, non deberet concedi sententiæ suæ in materia fidei, nisi
  de quanto se fundaverint in Scriptura. Trialogus, lib. iv. cap. vii.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF WICKLIFFE.]

These words were the last flicker of the torch. Wickliffe looked upon
his end as near, and entertained no idea that it would come in peace.
A dungeon on one of the seven hills, or a burning pile in London, was
all he expected. "Why do you talk of seeking the crown of martyrdom
afar?" asked he. "Preach the Gospel of Christ to haughty prelates, and
martyrdom will not fail you. What! I should live and be silent? ...
never! Let the blow fall, I await its coming."[192]

  [192] Vaughan's Life of Wickliffe, ii, p. 215, 257.

The stroke was spared him. The war between two wicked priests, Urban
and Clement, left the disciples of our Lord in peace. And besides, was
it worth while cutting short a life that was drawing to a close?
Wickliffe, therefore, continued tranquilly to preach Jesus Christ; and
on the 29th December 1384, as he was in his church at Lutterworth, in
the midst of his flock, at the very moment that he stood before the
altar, and was elevating the host with trembling hands, he fell upon
the pavement struck with paralysis. He was carried to his house by the
affectionate friends around him, and after lingering forty-eight hours
resigned his soul to God on the last day of the year.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE'S CHARACTER.]

Thus was removed from the church one of the boldest witnesses to the
truth. The seriousness of his language, the holiness of his life, and
the energy of his faith, had intimidated the popedom. Travellers
relate that if a lion is met in the desert, it is sufficient to look
steadily at him, and the beast turns away roaring from the eye of man.
Wickliffe had fixed the eye of a Christian on the papacy, and the
affrighted papacy had left him in peace. Hunted down unceasingly while
living, he died in quiet, at the very moment when by faith he was
eating the flesh and drinking the blood which give eternal life. A
glorious end to a glorious life.

The Reformation of England had begun.

Wickliffe is the greatest English Reformer: he was in truth the first
reformer of Christendom, and to him, under God, Britain is indebted
for the honour of being the foremost in the attack upon the theocratic
system of Gregory VII. The work of the Waldenses, excellent as it was,
cannot be compared to his. If Luther and Calvin are the fathers of the
Reformation, Wickliffe is its grandfather.

Wickliffe, like most great men, possessed qualities which are not
generally found together. While his understanding was eminently
speculative--his treatise on the _Reality of universal Ideas_[193]
made a sensation in philosophy--he possessed that practical and active
mind which characterizes the Anglo-Saxon race. As a divine, he was at
once scriptural and spiritual, soundly orthodox, and possessed of an
inward and lively faith. With a boldness that impelled him to rush
into the midst of danger, he combined a logical and consistent mind,
which constantly led him forward in knowledge, and caused him to
maintain with perseverance the truths he had once proclaimed. First of
all, as a Christian, he had devoted his strength to the cause of the
church; but he was at the same time a citizen, and the realm, his
nation, and his king, had also a great share in his unwearied
activity. He was a man complete.

  [193] De universalibus realibus.

[Sidenote: WICKLIFFE'S ECCLESIASTICAL VIEWS.]

If the man is admirable, his teaching is no less so. Scripture, which
is the rule of truth, should be (according to his views) the rule of
Reformation, and we must reject every doctrine and every precept which
does not rest on that foundation.[194] To believe in the power of man
in the work of regeneration is the great heresy of Rome, and from that
error has come the ruin of the church. Conversion proceeds from the
grace of God alone, and the system which ascribes it partly to man and
partly to God is worse than Pelagianism.[195] Christ is every thing
in Christianity; whosoever abandons that fountain which is ever ready
to impart life, and turns to muddy and stagnant waters, is a
madman.[196] Faith is a gift of God; it puts aside all merit, and
should banish all fear from the mind.[197] The one thing needful in
the Christian life and in the Lord's Supper is not a vain formalism
and superstitious rites, but communion with Christ according to the
power of the spiritual life.[198] Let Christians submit not to the
word of a priest but to the word of God. In the primitive church there
were but two orders, the deacon and the priest: the presbyter and the
bishop were one.[199] The sublimest calling which man can attain on
earth is that of preaching the word of God. The true church is the
assembly of the righteous for whom Christ shed his blood. So long as
Christ is in heaven, in Him the church possesses the best pope. It is
possible for a pope to be condemned at the last day because of his
sins. Would men compel us to recognise as our head "a devil of
hell?"[200] Such were the essential points of Wickliffe's doctrine. It
was the echo of the doctrine of the apostles--the prelude to that of
the reformers.

  [194] Auctoritas Scripturæ sacræ, quæ est lex Christi, infinitum
  excedit quam libet scripturam aliam. Dialog. [Trialogus] lib. iii.
  cap. xxx; see in particular chap. xxxi. The authority of Holy
  Scripture, which is the law of Christ, infinitely surpasses all other
  writings whatever.

  [195] Ibid. de prædestinatione, de peccato, de gratia, etc.

  [196] Dialog. [Trialogus] lib. iii, cap. xxx.

  [197] Fidem a Deo infusam sine aliqua trepidatione fidei contraria.
  Ibid. lib. iii, cap. ii.

  [198] Secundum rationem spiritualis et virtualis existentiæ. Ibid.
  lib. iv, cap. viii.

  [199] Fuit idem presbyter atque episcopus. Ibid. lib. iv, cap. xv.

  [200] Vaughan's Life of Wickliffe, ii, 307. The Christian public is
  much indebted to Dr. Vaughan for his biography of this reformer.

[Sidenote: PROPHECY.]

In many respects Wickliffe is the Luther of England; but the times of
revival had not yet come, and the English reformer could not gain such
striking victories over Rome as the German reformer. While Luther was
surrounded by an ever-increasing number of scholars and princes, who
confessed the same faith as himself, Wickliffe shone almost alone in
the firmament of the church. The boldness with which he substituted a
living spirituality for a superstitious formalism, caused those to
shrink back in affright who had gone with him against friars, priests,
and popes. Erelong the Roman pontiff ordered him to be thrown into
prison, and the monks threatened his life;[201] but God protected him,
and he remained calm amidst the machinations of his adversaries.
"Antichrist," said he, "can only kill the body." Having one foot in
the grave already, he foretold that, from the very bosom of monkery,
would some day proceed the regeneration of the church. "If the friars,
whom God condescends to teach, shall be converted to the primitive
religion of Christ," said he, "we shall see them abandoning their
unbelief, returning freely, with or without the permission of
Antichrist, to the primitive religion of the Lord, and building up the
church, as did St. Paul."[202]

  [201] Multitudo fratrum mortem tuam multipliciter machinantur. Ibid.
  lib. iv, cap. iv.

  [202] Aliqui fratres quos Deus docere dignatur....relicta sua
  perfidia.....redibunt libere ad religionem Christi primævam, et tunc
  ædificabunt ecclesiam, sicut Paulus. Dialog. [Trialogus] lib. iv, cap.
  xxx.

Thus did Wickliffe's piercing glance discover, at the distance of
nearly a century and a half, the young monk Luther in the Augustine
convent at Erfurth, converted by the Epistle to the Romans, and
returning to the spirit of St. Paul and the religion of Jesus Christ.
Time was hastening on to the fulfilment of this prophecy. "The rising
sun of the Reformation," for so has Wickliffe been called, had
appeared above the horizon, and its beams were no more to be
extinguished. In vain will thick clouds veil it at times; the distant
hill-tops of Eastern Europe will soon reflect its rays;[203] and its
piercing light, increasing in brightness, will pour over all the
world, at the hour of the church's renovation, floods of knowledge and
of life.

  [203] John Huss in Bohemia.




CHAPTER IX.

     The Wickliffites--Call for Reform--Richard II--The first
     Martyr--Lord Cobham--Appears before Henry V--Before the
     Archbishop--His Confession and Death--The Lollards.


[Sidenote: CALL FOR REFORM.]

Wickliffe's death manifested the power of his teaching. The master
being removed, his disciples set their hands to the plough, and
England was almost won over to the reformer's doctrines. The
Wickliffites recognized a ministry independent of Rome, and deriving
authority from the word of God alone. "Every minister," said they,
"can administer the sacraments and confer the cure of souls as well as
the pope." To the licentious wealth of the clergy they opposed a
Christian poverty, and to the degenerate asceticism of the mendicant
orders, a spiritual and free life. The townsfolk crowded around these
humble preachers; the soldiers listened to them, armed with sword and
buckler to defend them;[204] the nobility took down the images from
their baronial chapels;[205] and even the royal family was partly won
over to the Reformation. England was like a tree cut down to the
ground, from whose roots fresh buds are shooting out on every side,
erelong to cover all the earth beneath their shade.[206]

  [204] Assistere solent gladio et pelta stipati ad eorum defensionem.
  Knyghton, lib. v, p. 2660.

  [205] Milites cum ducibus et comitibus erant præcipue eis adhærentes.
  Ibid.

  [206] Quasi germinantes multiplicati sunt nimis et impleverunt ubique
  orbem regni. Kuyguton. lib. v, p. 2660. These "_Conclusiones_" are
  reprinted by Lewis (Wickliffe) p. 337.

This augmented the courage of Wickliffe's disciples, and in many
places the people took the initiative in the reform. The walls of St.
Paul's and other cathedrals were hung with placards aimed at the
priests and friars, and the abuses of which they were the defenders;
and in 1395 the friends of the Gospel petitioned parliament for a
general reform. "The essence of the worship which comes from Rome,"
said they, "consists in signs and ceremonies, and not in the
efficacity of the Holy Ghost: and therefore it is not that which
Christ has ordained. Temporal things are distinct from spiritual
things: a king and a bishop ought not to be one and the same
person."[207] And then, from not clearly understanding the principle
of the separation of the functions which they proclaimed, they called
upon parliament to "abolish celibacy, transubstantiation, prayers for
the dead, offerings to images, auricular confession, war, the arts
unnecessary to life, the practice of blessing oil, salt, wax, incense,
stones, mitres, and pilgrims' staffs. All these pertain to necromancy
and not to theology." Emboldened by the absence of the king in
Ireland, they fixed their _Twelve Conclusions_ on the gates of St.
Paul's and Westminster Abbey. This became the signal for persecution.

  [207] Rex et episcopus in una persona, etc. Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE FIRST MARTYR.]

As soon as Arundel, archbishop of York, and Braybrooke, bishop of
London, had read these propositions, they hastily crossed St. George's
channel, and conjured the king to return to England. The prince
hesitated not to comply, for his wife, the pious Anne of Luxemburg,
was dead. Richard, during childhood and youth, had been committed in
succession to the charge of several guardians, and like children (says
an historian), whose nurses have been often changed, he thrived none
the better for it. He did good or evil, according to the influence of
those around him, and had no decided inclinations except for
ostentation and licentiousness. The clergy were not mistaken in
calculating on such a prince. On his return to London he forbade the
parliament to take the Wickliffite petition into consideration; and
having summoned before him the most distinguished of its supporters,
such as Story, Clifford, Latimer, and Montacute, he threatened them
with death if they continued to defend their abominable opinions.
Thus was the work of the reformer about to be destroyed.

But Richard had hardly withdrawn his hand from the Gospel, when God
(says the annalist) withdrew his hand from him.[208] His cousin, Henry
of Hereford, son of the famous duke of Lancaster, and who had been
banished from England, suddenly sailed from the continent, landed in
Yorkshire, gathered all the malcontents around him, and was
acknowledged king. The unhappy Richard, after being formally deposed,
was confined in Pontefract castle, where he soon terminated his
earthly career.

  [208] Fox, Acts, i. p. 584, fol. Lond. 1684.

The son of Wickliffe's old defender was now king: a reform of the
church seemed imminent; but the primate Arundel had foreseen the
danger. This cunning priest and skilful politician had observed which
way the wind blew, and deserted Richard in good time. Taking Lancaster
by the hand, he put the crown on his head, saying to him: "To
consolidate your throne, conciliate the clergy, and sacrifice the
Lollards."--"I will be the protector of the church," replied Henry IV,
and from that hour the power of the priests was greater than the power
of the nobility. Rome has ever been adroit in profiting by
revolutions.

Lancaster, in his eagerness to show his gratitude to the priests,
ordered that every incorrigible heretic should be burnt alive, to
terrify his companions.[209] Practice followed close upon the theory.
A pious priest named William Sawtre had presumed to say: "Instead of
adoring the cross on which Christ suffered, I adore Christ who
suffered on it."[210] He was dragged to St. Paul's; his hair was
shaved off; a layman's cap was placed on his head; and the primate
handed him over to the _mercy_ of the earl-marshal of England. This
mercy was shown him--he was burnt alive at Smithfield in the beginning
of March, 1401. Sawtre was the first martyr to protestantism.

  [209] Ibid. p. 586. This is the statute known as 2 Henry IV. c. 15,
  the first actual law in England against heresy.

  [210] Ibid. p. 589.

[Sidenote: LORD COBHAM.]

Encouraged by this act of faith--this _auto da fé_--the clergy drew up
the articles known as the "Constitutions of Arundel," which forbade
the reading of the Bible, and styled the pope, "not a mere man, but a
true God."[211] The Lollards' tower, in the archiepiscopal palace of
Lambeth, was soon filled with pretended heretics, many of whom carved
on the walls of their dungeons the expression of their sorrow and
their hopes: _Jesus amor meus_, wrote one of them.[212]

  [211] Not of pure man but of true God, here in earth. Ibid. p. 596.

  [212] "Jesus is my love." These words are still to be read in the
  tower.

To crush the lowly was not enough: the Gospel must be driven from the
more exalted stations. The priests, who were sincere in their belief,
regarded those noblemen as misleaders, who set the word of God above
the laws of Rome; and accordingly they girded themselves for the work.
A few miles from Rochester stood Cowling Castle, in the midst of the
fertile pastures watered by the Medway,

    The fair Medwaya that with wanton pride
    Forms silver mazes with her crooked tide.[213]

  [213] Blackmore.

In the beginning of the fifteenth century it was inhabited by Sir John
Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, a man in high favour with the king. The "poor
priests" thronged to Cowling in quest of Wickliffe's writings, of
which Cobham had caused numerous copies to be made, and whence they
were circulated through the dioceses of Canterbury, Rochester, London,
and Hertford. Cobham attended their preaching, and if any enemies
ventured to interrupt them, he threatened them with his sword.[214] "I
would sooner risk my life," said he, "than submit to such unjust
decrees as dishonour the everlasting Testament." The king would not
permit the clergy to lay hands on his favourite.

  [214] Eorum prædicationibus nefariis interfuit, et contradictores, si
  quos repererat, minis et terroribus et gladii secularis potentia
  compescuit. (Rymer, Foedera. tom. iv. pars 2, p. 50.) He attended their
  interdicted preaching, and if he found any interrupting them, he kept
  them in check by threats and terrors and by the power of the secular
  sword.

[Sidenote: COBHAM BEFORE THE ARCHBISHOP.]

But Henry V having succeeded his father in 1413, and passed from the
houses of ill-fame he had hitherto frequented, to the foot of the
altars and the head of the armies, the archbishop immediately
denounced Cobham to him, and he was summoned to appear before the
king. Sir John had understood Wickliffe's doctrine, and experienced in
his own person the might of the divine Word. "As touching the pope and
his spirituality," he said to the king, "I owe them neither suit nor
service, forasmuch as I know him by the Scriptures to be the great
antichrist."[215] Henry thrust aside Cobham's hand as he presented his
confession of faith: "I will not receive this paper, lay it before
your judges." When he saw his profession refused, Cobham had recourse
to the only arm which he knew of out of the Gospel. The differences
which we now settle by pamphlets were then very commonly settled by
the sword:--"I offer in defence of my faith to fight for life or death
with any man living, Christian or pagan, always excepting your
majesty."[216] Cobham was led to the Tower.

  [215] Fox, vol. i. p. 636, fol.

  [216] Fox, Acts, i. p. 637.

On the 23rd September, 1413, he was taken before the ecclesiastical
tribunal then sitting at St. Paul's. "We must believe," said the
primate to him, "what the holy church of Rome teaches, without
demanding Christ's authority."--"Believe!" shouted the priests,
"believe!"--"I am willing to believe all that God desires," said Sir
John; "but that the pope should have authority to teach what is
contrary to Scripture--that I can never believe." He was led back to
the Tower. The word of God was to have its martyr.

On Monday, 25th September, a crowd of priests, canons, friars, clerks,
and indulgence-sellers, thronged the large hall of the Dominican
convent, and attacked Lord Cobham with abusive language. These
insults, the importance of the moment for the Reformation of England,
the catastrophe that must needs close the scene: all agitated his soul
to its very depths. When the archbishop called upon him to confess his
offence, he fell on his knees, and lifting up his hands to heaven,
exclaimed: "I confess to Thee, O God! and acknowledge that in my frail
youth I seriously offended Thee by my pride, anger, intemperance, and
impurity: for these offences I implore thy mercy!" Then standing up,
his face still wet with tears, he said: "I ask not your absolution: it
is God's only that I need."[217] The clergy did not despair, however,
of reducing this high-spirited gentleman: they knew that spiritual
strength is not always conjoined with bodily vigour, and they hoped to
vanquish by priestly sophisms the man who dared challenge the papal
champions to single combat. "Sir John," said the primate at last, "You
have said some very strange things; we have spent much time in
endeavours to convince you, but all to no effect. The day passeth
away: you must either submit yourself to the ordinance of the most
holy church...." "I will none otherwise believe than what I have told
you. Do with me what you will."--"Well then, we must needs do the
law," the archbishop made answer.

  [217] Quod nullam absolutionem in hac parte peteret a nobis, sed a
  solo Deo. Rymer, Foedera, p. 51.

[Sidenote: THE LOLLARDS.]

Arundel stood up; all the priests and people rose with him and
uncovered their heads. Then holding the sentence of death in his
hand, he read it with a loud clear voice. "It is well," said Sir John;
"though you condemn my body, you can do no harm to my soul, by the
grace of my eternal God." He was again led back to the Tower, whence
he escaped one night, and took refuge in Wales. He was retaken in
December, 1417, carried to London, dragged on a hurdle to Saint
Giles's fields, and there suspended by chains over a slow fire, and
cruelly burned to death. Thus died a Christian, illustrious after the
fashion of his age--a champion of the Word of God. The London prisons
were filled with Wickliffites, and it was decreed that they should be
hung on the king's account, and burnt for God's.[218]

  [218] Incendio propter Deum, suspendio propter regem. Thom. Waldensis
  in proemio. Raynald, ann. 1414. No. 16.

The intimidated Lollards were compelled to hide themselves in the
humblest ranks of the people, and to hold their meetings in secret.
The work of redemption was proceeding noiselessly among the elect of
God. Of these Lollards, there were many who had been redeemed by Jesus
Christ; but in general they knew not, to the same extent as the
evangelical Christians of the sixteenth century, the quickening and
justifying power of faith. They were plain, meek, and often timid
folks, attracted by the word of God, affected at the condemnation it
pronounces against the errors of Rome, and desirous of living
according to its commandments. God had assigned them a part--and an
important part too--in the great transformation of Christianity. Their
humble piety, their passive resistance, the shameful treatment which
they bore with resignation, the penitent's robes with which they were
covered, the tapers they were compelled to hold at the church
door--all these things betrayed the pride of the priests, and filled
the most generous minds with doubts and vague desires. By a baptism of
suffering, God was then preparing the way to a glorious reformation.




CHAPTER X.

     Learning at Florence--The Tudors--Erasmus visits
     England--Sir Thomas More--Dean Colet--Erasmus and young
     Henry--Prince Arthur and Catherine--Marriage and
     Death--Catherine betrothed to Henry--Accession of Henry
     VIII--Enthusiasm of the Learned--Erasmus recalled to
     England--Cromwell before the Pope--Catherine proposed to
     Henry--Their Marriage and Court--Tournaments--Henry's
     Danger.


[Sidenote: LEARNING AT FLORENCE.]

This reformation was to be the result of two distinct forces--the
revival of learning and the resurrection of the word of God. The
latter was the principal cause, but the former was necessary as a
means. Without it the living waters of the Gospel would probably have
traversed the age, like summer streams which soon dry up, such as
those which had burst forth here and there during the middle ages; it
would not have become that majestic river, which, by its inundations,
fertilized all the earth. It was necessary to discover and examine the
original fountains, and for this end the study of Greek and Hebrew was
indispensable. Lollardism and humanism (the study of the classics)
were the two laboratories of the reform. We have seen the preparations
of the one, we must now trace the commencement of the other; and as we
have discovered the light in the lowly valleys, we shall discern it
also on the lofty mountain tops.

[Sidenote: THE TUDORS.]

About the end of the fifteenth century, several young Englishmen
chanced to be at Florence, attracted thither by the literary glory
which environed the city of the Medici. Cosmo had collected together a
great number of works of antiquity, and his palace was thronged with
learned men. William Selling, a young English ecclesiastic, afterwards
distinguished at Canterbury by his zeal in collecting valuable
manuscripts; his fellow-countrymen, Grocyn, Lilly, and Latimer "more
bashful than a maiden;"[219] and, above all, Linacre, whom Erasmus
ranked before all the scholars of Italy,--used to meet in the
delicious villa of the Medici with Politian, Chalcondyles, and other
men of learning; and there, in the calm evenings of summer, under that
glorious Tuscan sky, they dreamt romantic visions of the Platonic
philosophy. When they returned to England, these learned men laid
before the youth of Oxford the marvellous treasures of the Greek
language. Some Italians even, attracted by the desire to enlighten the
barbarians, and a little, it may be, by the brilliant offers made
them, quitted their beloved country for the distant Britain. Cornelius
Vitelli taught at Oxford, and Caius Amberino at Cambridge. Caxton
imported the art of printing from Germany, and the nation hailed with
enthusiasm the brilliant dawn which was breaking at last in their
cloudy sky.

  [219] Pudorem plus quam virgineum. Erasm. Ep. i. p. 525.

While learning was reviving in England, a new dynasty succeeded to the
throne, bringing with it that energy of character which of itself is
able to effect great revolutions; the Tudors succeeded the
Plantagenets. That inflexible intrepidity by which the reformers of
Germany, Switzerland, France, and Scotland were distinguished, did not
exist so generally in those of England; but it was found in the
character of her kings, who often stretched it even to violence. It
may be that to this preponderance of energy in its rulers, the church
owes the preponderance of the state in its affairs.

Henry Tudor, the Louis XI of England, was a clever prince, of decided
but suspicious character, avaricious and narrow-minded. Being
descended from a Welsh family, he belonged to that ancient race of
Celts, who had so long contended against the papacy. Henry had
extinguished faction at home, and taught foreign nations to respect
his power. A good genius seemed to exercise a salutary influence over
his court as well as over himself: this was his mother, the Countess
of Richmond. From her closet, where she consecrated the first five
hours of the day to reading, meditation, and prayer, she moved to
another part of the palace to dress the wounds of some of the lowest
mendicants; thence she passed into the gay saloons, where she would
converse with the scholars, whom she encouraged by her munificence.
This noble lady's passion for study, of which her son inherited but
little, was not without its influence in her family. Arthur and Henry,
the king's eldest sons, trembled in their father's presence; but,
captivated by the affection of their pious grandmother, they began to
find a pleasure in the society of learned men. An important
circumstance gave a new impulse to one of them.

[Sidenote: ERASMUS IN ENGLAND.]

Among the countess's friends was Montjoy, who had known Erasmus at
Paris, and heard his cutting sarcasms upon the schoolmen and friars.
He invited the illustrious Dutchman to England, and Erasmus, who was
fearful of catching the plague, gladly accepted the invitation, and
set out for what he believed to be the kingdom of darkness. But he had
not been long in England before he discovered unexpected light.

Shortly after his arrival, happening to dine with the lord-mayor,
Erasmus noticed on the other side of the table a young man of
nineteen, slender, fresh-coloured, with blue eyes, coarse hands, and
the right shoulder somewhat higher than the other. His features
indicated affability and gaiety, and pleasant jests were continually
dropping from his lips. If he could not find a joke in English, he
would in French, and even in Latin or Greek. A literary contest soon
ensued between Erasmus and the English youth. The former, astonished
at meeting with any one that could hold his own against him,
exclaimed: _Aut tu es Morus aut nullus!_ (you are either More or
nobody); and his companion, who had not learnt the stranger's name,
quickly replied: _Aut tu es Erasmus aut diabolus!_ (you are either the
devil or Erasmus).[220] More flung himself into the arms of Erasmus,
and they became inseparable friends. More was continually joking, even
with women, teasing the young maidens, and making fun of the dull,
though without any tinge of ill-nature in his jests.[221] But under
this sportive exterior he concealed a deep understanding. He was at
that time lecturing on Augustine's '_City of God_' before a numerous
audience composed of priests and aged men. The thought of eternity had
seized him: and being ignorant of that internal discipline of the Holy
Ghost, which is the only true discipline, he had recourse to the
scourge on every Friday. Thomas More is the ideal of the catholicism
of this period. He had, like the Romish system, two poles--worldliness
and asceticism; which, although contrary, often meet together. In
fact, asceticism makes a sacrifice of _self_, only to preserve it;
just as a traveller attacked by robbers will readily give up a portion
of his treasures to save the rest. This was the case with More, if we
rightly understand his character. He sacrificed the accessories of his
fallen nature to save that same nature. He submitted to fasts and
vigils, wore a shirt of hair-cloth, mortified his body by small chains
next his skin--in a word, he immolated every thing in order to
preserve that _self_ which a real regeneration alone can sacrifice.

  [220] Life of More by his Great-grandson, (1828), p. 93.

  [221] Cum mulieribus fere atque etiam cum uxore nonnisi lusus jocos ne
  tractat. Erasm. Ep. i. p. 536.

[Sidenote: A ROYAL SCHOOL-ROOM.]

From London Erasmus went to Oxford, where he met with John Colet, a
friend of More's, but older, and of very dissimilar character. Colet,
the scion of an ancient family, was a very portly man, of imposing
aspect, great fortune, and elegance of manners, to which Erasmus had
not been accustomed. Order, cleanliness, and decorum prevailed in his
person and in his house. He kept an excellent table, which was open to
all the friends of learning, and at which the Dutchman, no great
admirer of the colleges of Paris with their sour wine and stale eggs,
was glad to take a seat.[222] He there met also most of the classical
scholars of England, especially Grocyn, Linacre, Thomas Wolsey, bursar
of Magdalene College, Halsey, and some others. "I cannot tell you how
I am delighted with your England," he wrote to Lord Montjoy from
Oxford. "With such men I could willingly live in the farthest coasts
of Scythia."[223]

  [222] Quantum ibi devorabatur ovorum putrium, quantum vini putris
  hauriebatur. Erasm. Colloq. p. 564.

  [223] Dici non potest quam mihi dulcescat Anglia tua . . . . vel in
  extrema Scythia vivere non recusem. Erasm. Ep. i. p. 311.

[Sidenote: ARTHUR AND CATHERINE.]

But if Erasmus on the banks of the Thames found a Mæcenas in Lord
Montjoy, a Labeo and perhaps a Virgil in More, he nowhere found an
Augustus. One day as he was expressing his regrets and his fears to
More, the latter said: "Come, let us go to Eltham, perhaps we shall
find there what you are looking for." They set out, More jesting all
the way, inwardly resolving to expiate his gaiety by a severe
scourging at night. On their arrival they were heartily welcomed by
Lord and Lady Montjoy, the governor and governess of the king's
children. As the two friends entered the hall, a pleasing and
unexpected sight greeted Erasmus. The whole of the family were
assembled, and they found themselves surrounded not only by some of
the royal household, but by the domestics of Lord Montjoy also. On the
right stood the Princess Margaret, a girl of eleven years, whose
great-grandson under the name of Stuart was to continue the Tudor line
in England; on the left was Mary, a child four years of age; Edmund
was in his nurse's arms; and in the middle of the circle, between his
two sisters, stood a boy, at that time only nine years old, whose
handsome features, royal carriage, intelligent eye, and exquisite
courtesy, had an extraordinary charm for Erasmus.[224] That boy was
Henry, Duke of York, the king's second son, born on the 28th June
1491. More, advancing towards the young prince, presented to him some
piece of his own writing; and from that hour Erasmus kept up a
friendly intercourse with Henry, which in all probability exercised a
certain influence over the destinies of England. The scholar of
Rotterdam was delighted to see the prince excel in all the manly
sports of the day. He sat his horse with perfect grace and rare
intrepidity, could hurl a javelin farther than any of his companions,
and having an excellent taste for music, he was already a performer on
several instruments. The king took care that he should receive a
learned education, for he destined him to fill the see of Canterbury;
and the illustrious Erasmus, noticing his aptitude for every thing he
undertook, did his best to cut and polish this English diamond that it
might glitter with the greater brilliancy. "He will begin nothing that
he will not finish," said the scholar. And it is but too true, that
this prince always attained his end, even if it were necessary to
tread on the bleeding bodies of those he had loved. Flattered by the
attentions of the young Henry, attracted by his winning grace, charmed
by his wit, Erasmus on his return to the continent everywhere
proclaimed that England at last had found its Octavius.

  [224] Erasm. Ep. ad Botzhem. Jortin. Appendix, p. 108.

As for Henry VII he thought of everything but Virgil or Augustus.
Avarice and ambition were his predominant tastes, which he gratified
by the marriage of his eldest son in 1501. Burgundy, Artois, Provence,
and Brittany having been recently united to France, the European
powers felt the necessity of combining against that encroaching state.
It was in consequence of this that Ferdinand of Aragon had given his
daughter Joanna to Philip of Austria, and that Henry VII asked the
hand of his daughter Catherine, then in her sixteenth year and the
richest princess in Europe, for Arthur prince of Wales, a youth about
ten months younger. The catholic king made one condition to the
marriage of his daughter. Warwick, the last of the Plantagenets and a
pretender to the crown, was confined in the Tower. Ferdinand, to
secure the certainty that Catherine would really ascend the English
throne, required that the unhappy prince should be put to death. Nor
did this alone satisfy the king of Spain. Henry VII, who was not a
cruel man, might conceal Warwick, and say that he was no more.
Ferdinand demanded that the chancellor of Castile should be present at
the execution. The blood of Warwick was shed; his head rolled duly on
the scaffold; the Castilian chancellor verified and registered the
murder, and on the 14th November the marriage was solemnized at St.
Paul's. At midnight the prince and princess were conducted with great
pomp to the bridal-chamber.[225] These were ill-omened nuptials--fated
to set the kings and nations of Christendom in battle against each
other, and to serve as a pretext for the external and political
discussions of the English Reformation. The marriage of Catherine the
Catholic was a marriage of blood.

  [225] Principes summa nocte ad thalamum solemni ritu deducti sunt.
  Sanderus, de schismate Angl. p. 2.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF PRINCE ARTHUR.]

In the early part of 1502 Prince Arthur fell ill, and on the 2nd of
April he died. The necessary time was taken to be sure that Catherine
had no hope of becoming a mother, after which the friend of Erasmus,
the youthful Henry, was declared heir to the crown, to the great joy
of all the learned. This prince did not forsake his studies: he spoke
and wrote in French, German, and Spanish with the facility of a
native; and England hoped to behold one day the most learned of
Christian kings upon the throne of Alfred the Great.

A very different question, however, filled the mind of the covetous
Henry VII. Must he restore to Spain the two hundred thousand ducats
which formed Catherine's dowry? Shall this rich heiress be permitted
to marry some rival of England? To prevent so great a misfortune the
king conceived the project of uniting Henry to Arthur's widow. The
most serious objections were urged against it. "It is not only
inconsistent with propriety," said Warham, the primate, "but the will
of God himself is against it. It is declared in His law that _if a man
shall take his brother's wife, it is an unclean thing_, (Lev. xx. 21);
and in the Gospel John Baptist says to Herod: _It is not lawful for
thee to have thy brother's wife_," (Mark vi. 18.) Fox, bishop of
Winchester, suggested that a dispensation might be procured from the
pope, and in December 1503 Julius II granted a bull declaring that for
the sake of preserving union between the catholic princes he
authorized Catherine's marriage with the brother of her first husband,
_accedente forsan copula carnali_. These four words, it is said, were
inserted in the bull at the express desire of the princess. All these
details will be of importance in the course of our history. The two
parties were betrothed, but not married in consideration of the youth
of the prince of Wales.

The second marriage projected by Henry VII was ushered in with
auspices still less promising than the first. The king having fallen
sick and lost his queen, looked upon these visitations as a divine
judgment.[226] The nation murmured, and demanded whether it was in the
pope's power to permit what God had forbidden.[227] The young prince,
being informed of his father's scruples and of the people's
discontent, declared, just before attaining his majority (27th June
1505), in the presence of the bishop of Winchester and several royal
counsellors, that he protested against the engagement entered into
during his minority, and that he would never make Catherine his wife.

  [226] Morysin's Apomaxis.

  [227] Herbert, Life of Henry VIII, p. 18.

[Sidenote: PROCLAMATION OF HENRY VIII.]

His father's death, which made him free, made him also recall this
virtuous decision. In 1509, the hopes of the learned seemed about to
be realized. On the 9th of May, a hearse decorated with regal pomp,
bearing on a rich pall of cloth of gold the mortal remains of Henry
VII with his sceptre and his crown, entered London, followed by a long
procession. The great officers of state, assembled round the coffin,
broke their staves and cast them into the vault, and the heralds cried
with a loud voice: "God send the noble King Henry VIII long
life."[228] Such a cry perhaps had never on any previous occasion been
so joyfully repeated by the people. The young king gratified the
wishes of the nation by ordering the arrest of Empson and Dudley, who
were charged with extortion; and he conformed to the enlightened
counsels of his grandmother, by choosing the most able ministers, and
placing the archbishop of Canterbury as lord-chancellor at their head.
Warham was a man of great capacity. The day was not too short for him
to hear mass, receive ambassadors, consult with the king in the royal
closet, entertain as many as two hundred guests at his table, take his
seat on the woolsack, and find time for his private devotions. The joy
of the learned surpassed that of the people. The old king wanted none
of their praises or congratulations, for fear he should have to pay
for them; but now they could give free course to their enthusiasm.
Montjoy pronounced the young king "divine;" the Venetian ambassador
likened his port to Apollo's, and his noble chest to the torso of
Mars; he was lauded both in Greek and Latin; he was hailed as the
founder of a new era, and Henry seemed desirous of meriting these
eulogiums. Far from permitting himself to be intoxicated by so much
adulation, he said to Montjoy: "Ah! how I should like to be a
scholar!"--"Sire," replied the courtier, "It is enough that you show
your regard for those who possess the learning you desire for
yourself."--"How can I do otherwise," he replied with earnestness;
"without them we hardly exist!" Montjoy immediately communicated this
to Erasmus.

  [228] Leland's Collectanea, vol. iv. p. 309.

[Sidenote: ENTHUSIASM OF THE LEARNED.]

Erasmus!--Erasmus!--the walls of Eltham, Oxford, and London resounded
with the name. The king could not live without the learned; nor the
learned without Erasmus. This scholar, who was an enthusiast for the
young king, was not long in answering to the call. When Richard Pace,
one of the most accomplished men of that age, met the learned Dutchman
at Ferrara, the latter took from his pocket a little box which he
always carried with him: "You don't know," he said, "what a treasure
you have in England: I will just show you;" and he took from the box a
letter of Henry's expressing in Latin of considerable purity the
tenderest regard for his correspondent.[229] Immediately after the
coronation Montjoy wrote to Erasmus: "Our Henry _Octavus_, or rather
_Octavius_, is on the throne. Come and behold the new star.[230] The
heavens smile, the earth leaps for joy, and all is flowing with milk,
nectar, and honey.[231] Avarice has fled away, liberality has
descended, scattering on every side with gracious hand her bounteous
largesses. Our king desires not gold or precious stones, but virtue,
glory, and immortality."

  [229] Scripsit ad me suapte manu litteras amantissimas. Erasm. Vita ad
  Ep.

  [230] Ut hoc novum sidus aspicias. Ibid. p. 277: an expression of
  Virgil, speaking of the deified Augustus.

  [231] Ridet æther, exultat terra, omnia lactis, omnia mellis, omnia
  nectaris sunt plena. Ibid.

In such glowing terms was the young king described by a man who had
seen him closely. Erasmus could resist no longer: he bade the pope
farewell, and hastened to London, where he met with a hearty welcome
from Henry. Science and power embraced each other: England was about
to have its Medici; and the friends of learning no longer doubted of
the regeneration of Britain.

[Sidenote: CROMWELL AND THE POPE.]

Julius II, who had permitted Erasmus to exchange the white frock of
the monks for the black dress of the seculars,[232] allowed him to
depart without much regret. This pontiff had little taste for letters,
but was fond of war, hunting, and the pleasures of the table. The
English sent him a dish to his taste in exchange for the scholar.
Sometime after Erasmus had left, as the pope was one day reposing from
the fatigues of the chase, he heard voices near him singing a strange
song. He asked with surprise what it meant.[233] "It is some
Englishmen," was the answer, and three foreigners entered the room,
each bearing a closely-covered jar, which the youngest presented on
his knees. This was Thomas Cromwell, who appears here for the first
time on the historic scene. He was the son of a blacksmith of Putney;
but he possessed a mind so penetrating, a judgment so sound, a heart
so bold, ability so consummate, such easy elocution, such an accurate
memory, such great activity, and so able a pen, that the most
brilliant career was foreboded him. At the age of twenty he left
England, being desirous to see the world, and began life as a clerk in
the English factory at Antwerp. Shortly after this two fellow-countrymen
from Boston came to him in their embarrassment. "What do you want?" he
asked them. "Our townsmen have sent us to the pope," they told him,
"to get the renewal of the _greater_ and _lesser pardons_, whose term
is nearly run, and which are necessary for the repair of our harbour.
But we do not know how to appear before him." Cromwell, prompt to
undertake everything, and knowing a little Italian, replied, "I will
go with you." Then slapping his forehead, he muttered to himself:
"What fish can I throw out as a bait to these greedy cormorants?" A
friend informed him that the pope was very fond of dainties. Cromwell
immediately ordered some exquisite jelly to be prepared, after the
English fashion, and set out for Italy with his provisions and his two
companions.

  [232] Vestem albam commutavit in nigram. Epp. ad Servat.

  [233] The pope suddenly marvelling at the strangeness of the song.
  Fox. Acts, v. 364, ed. Lond. 1838.

This was the man who appeared before Julius after his return from the
chase. "Kings and princes alone eat of this preserve in England," said
Cromwell to the pope. One cardinal, who was a greedier "cormorant"
than his master, eagerly tasted the delicacy. "Try it," he exclaimed,
and the pope, relishing this new confectionary, immediately signed the
pardons, on condition however that the receipt for the jelly should be
left with him. "And thus were the _jelly-pardons_ obtained," says the
annalist. It was Cromwell's first exploit, and the man who began his
busy career by presenting jars of confectionary to the pope was also
the man destined to separate England from Rome.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S COURT.]

The court of the pontiff was not the only one in Europe devoted to
gaiety. Hunting parties were as common in London as at Rome. The young
king and his companions were at that time absorbed in balls, banquets,
and the other festivities inseparable from a new reign. He recollected
however that he must give a queen to his people: Catherine of Aragon
was still in England, and the council recommended her for his wife. He
admired her piety without caring to imitate it;[234] he was pleased
with her love for literature, and even felt some inclination towards
her.[235] His advisers represented to him that "Catherine, daughter of
the illustrious Isabella of Castile, was the image of her mother. Like
her, she possessed that wisdom and greatness of mind which win the
respect of nations; and that if she carried to any of his rivals her
marriage-portion and the Spanish alliance, the long-contested crown
of England would soon fall from his head.... We have the pope's
dispensation: will you be more scrupulous than he is?"[236] The
archbishop of Canterbury opposed in vain: Henry gave way, and on the
eleventh of June, about seven weeks after his father's death, the
nuptials were privately celebrated. On the twenty-third the king and
queen went in state through the city, the bride wearing a white satin
dress with her hair hanging down her back nearly to her feet. On the
next day they were crowned at Westminster with great magnificence.

  [234] Admirabatur quidem uxoris sanctitatem. Sanders. p. 5.

  [235] Ut amor plus apud regem posset. Morysin Apom. p. 14.

  [236] Herbert's Henry VIII, p. 7. Fuller's Church Hist. Book V. p.
  165. Erasm. Ep. ad Amerb. p. 19.

Then followed a series of expensive entertainments. The treasures
which the nobility had long concealed from fear of the old king, were
now brought out; the ladies glittered with gold and diamonds; and the
king and queen, whom the people never grew tired of admiring, amused
themselves like children with the splendour of their royal robes.
Henry VIII was the forerunner of Louis XIV. Naturally inclined to pomp
and pleasure, the idol of his people, a devoted admirer of female
beauty, and the husband of almost as many wives as Louis had
adulterous mistresses, he made the court of England what the son of
Anne of Austria made the court of France,--one constant scene of
amusements. He thought he could never get to the end of the riches
amassed by his prudent father. His youth--for he was only
eighteen--the gaiety of his disposition, the grace he displayed in all
bodily exercises, the tales of chivalry in which he delighted, and
which even the clergy recommended to their high-born hearers, the
flattery of his courtiers[237]--all these combined to set his young
imagination in a ferment. Wherever he appeared, all were filled with
admiration of his handsome countenance and graceful figure: such is
the portrait bequeathed to us by his greatest enemy.[238] "His brow
was made to wear the crown, and his majestic port the kingly mantle,"
adds Noryson.[239]

  [237] Tyndale, Obedience of a Christian man (1528).

  [238] Eximia corporis forma præditus, in qua etiam regiæ majestatis
  augusta quædam species elucebat. (Sanderus de Schism., p. 4.) He was
  endowed with uncommon gracefulness of person, in which there shone
  forth a certain august air even of kingly majesty.

  [239] Turner. Hist. Engl. i. p. 28.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S DANGER.]

Henry resolved to realize without delay the chivalrous combats and
fabulous splendours of the heroes of the Round Table, as if to prepare
himself for those more real struggles which he would one day have to
maintain against the papacy. At the sound of the trumpet the youthful
monarch would enter the lists, clad in costly armour, and wearing a
plume that fell gracefully down to the saddle of his vigorous courser;
"like an untamed bull," says an historian, "which breaks away from its
yoke and rushes into the arena." On one occasion, at the celebration
of the queen's churching, Catherine with her ladies was seated in a
tent of purple and gold, in the midst of an artificial forest, strewn
with rocks and variegated with flowers. On a sudden a monk stepped
forward, wearing a long brown robe, and kneeling before her, begged
permission to run a course. It was granted, and rising up he threw
aside his coarse frock, and appeared gorgeously armed for the tourney.
He was Charles Brandon, afterwards Duke of Suffolk, one of the
handsomest and strongest men in the kingdom, and the first after Henry
in military exercises. He was followed by a number of others dressed
in black velvet, with wide-brimmed hats on their heads, staffs in
their hands, and scarfs across their shoulders ornamented with cockle
shells, like pilgrims from St. James of Compostella. These also threw
off their disguise, and stood forth in complete armour. At their head
was Sir Thomas Boleyn, whose daughter was fated to surpass in beauty,
greatness, and misfortune, all the women of England. The tournament
began. Henry, who has been compared to Amadis in boldness, to the lion
hearted Richard in courage, and to Edward III in courtesy, did not
always escape danger in these chivalrous contests. One day the king
had forgotten to lower his vizor, and Brandon, his opponent, setting
off at full gallop, the spectators noticed the oversight, and cried
out in alarm. But nothing could stop their horses: the two cavaliers
met. Suffolk's lance was shivered against Henry, and the fragments
struck him in the face. Every one thought the king was dead, and some
were running to arrest Brandon, when Henry, recovering from the blow
which had fallen on his helmet, recommenced the combat, and ran six
new courses amid the admiring cries of his subjects. This intrepid
courage changed as he grew older into unsparing cruelty; and it was
this young tiger, whose movements were then so graceful, that at no
distant day tore with his bloody fangs the mother of his children.




CHAPTER XI.

     The Pope excites to War--Colet's Sermon at St. Paul's--The
     Flemish Campaign--Marriage of Louis XII and Princess
     Mary--Letter from Anne Boleyn--Marriage of Brandon and
     Mary--Oxford--Sir Thomas More at Court--Attack upon the
     Monasteries--Colet's Household--He preaches Reform--The
     Greeks and Trojans.


[Sidenote: THE POPE EXCITES TO WAR.]

A message from the pope stopped Henry in the midst of these
amusements. In Scotland, Spain, France, and Italy, the young king had
nothing but friends; a harmony which the papacy was intent on
disturbing. One day, immediately after high-mass had been celebrated,
the archbishop of Canterbury, on behalf of Julius II laid at his feet
a golden rose, which had been blessed by the pope, anointed with holy
oil, and perfumed with musk.[240] It was accompanied by a letter
saluting him as head of the Italian league. The warlike pontiff having
reduced the Venetians, desired to humble France, and to employ Henry
as the instrument of his vengeance. Henry, only a short time before,
had renewed his alliance with Louis XII; but the pope was not to be
baffled by such a trifle as that, and the young king soon began to
dream of rivalling the glories of Crecy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. To
no purpose did his wisest councillors represent to him that England,
in the most favourable times, had never been able to hold her ground
in France, and that the sea was the true field open to her conquests.
Julius, knowing his vanity, had promised to deprive Louis of the title
of Most Christian king, and confer it upon him. "His holiness hopes
that your grace will utterly exterminate the king of France," wrote
the king's agent.[241] Henry saw nothing objectionable in this very
unapostolic mission, and decided on substituting the terrible game of
war for the gentler sports of peace.

  [240] Odorifico musco aspersam. Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 652.

  [241] Letter of Cardinal Bembridge. Cotton MSS. Vitell. B. 2, p. 8.

[Sidenote: DEAN COLET'S SERMON.]

In the spring of 1511, after some unsuccessful attempts by his
generals, Henry determined to invade France in person. He was in the
midst of his preparations when the festival of Easter arrived. Dean
Colet had been appointed to preach before Henry on Good Friday, and in
the course of his sermon he showed more courage than could have been
expected in a scholar, for a spark of the Christian spirit was glowing
in his bosom. He chose for the subject of his discourse Christ's
victory over death and the grave. "Whoever takes up arms from
ambition," said he, "fights not under the standard of Christ, but of
Satan. If you desire to contend against your enemies, follow Jesus
Christ as your prince and captain, rather than Cæsar or Alexander."
His hearers looked at each other with astonishment; the friends of
polite literature became alarmed; and the priests, who were getting
uneasy at the uprising of the human mind, hoped to profit by this
opportunity of inflicting a deadly blow on their antagonists. There
were among them men whose opinions we must condemn, while we cannot
forbear respecting the zeal for what they believed to be the truth: of
this number were Bricot, Fitzjames, and above all Standish. Their
zeal, however, went a little too far on this occasion: they even
talked of _burning_ the dean.[242] After the sermon, Colet was
informed that the king requested his attendance in the garden of the
Franciscan monastery, and immediately the priests and monks crowded
round the gate, hoping to see their adversary led forth as a criminal.
"Let us be alone," said Henry; "put on your cap, Mr. Dean, and we will
take a walk. Cheer up," he continued, "you have nothing to fear. You
have spoken admirably of Christian charity, and have almost reconciled
me to the king of France; yet, as the contest is not one of choice,
but of necessity, I must beg of you in some future sermon to explain
this to my people. Unless you do so, I fear my soldiers may
misunderstand your meaning." Colet was not a John Baptist, and,
affected by the king's condescension, he gave the required
explanation. The king was satisfied, and exclaimed: "Let every man
have his doctor as he pleases; this man is my doctor, and I will drink
his health!" Henry was then young: very different was the fashion with
which in after-years he treated those who opposed him.

  [242] Dr. Colet was in trouble and should have been burnt. Latimer's
  Sermons. Parker edition, p. 440.

At heart the king cared little more about the victories of Alexander
than of Jesus Christ. Having fitted out his army, he embarked at the
end of June, accompanied by his almoner, Wolsey, who was rising into
favour, and set out for the war as if for a tournament. Shortly after
this, he went, all glittering with jewels, to meet the Emperor
Maximilian, who received him in a plain doublet and cloak of black
serge. After his victory at the battle of Spurs, Henry, instead of
pressing forward to the conquest of France, returned to the siege of
Teronenne, wasted his time in jousts and entertainments, conferred on
Wolsey the bishopric of Tournay which he had just captured, and then
returned to England, delighted at having made so pleasant an
excursion.

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE OF PRINCESS MARY.]

Louis XII was a widower in his 53rd year, and bowed down by the
infirmities of a premature old age; but being desirous of preventing,
at any cost, the renewal of the war, he sought the hand of Henry's
sister, the Princess Mary, then in her 16th year. Her affections were
already fixed on Charles Brandon, and for him she would have
sacrificed the splendour of a throne. But reasons of state opposed
their union. "The princess," remarked Wolsey, "will soon return to
England a widow with a royal dowry." This decided the question. The
disconsolate Mary, who was an object of universal pity, embarked at
Dover with a numerous train, and from Boulogne, where she was received
by the duke of Angoulême, she was conducted to the king, elated at the
idea of marrying the handsomest princess in Europe.

Among Mary's attendents was the youthful Anne Boleyn. Her father, Sir
Thomas Boleyn, had been charged by Henry, conjointly with the bishop
of Ely, with the diplomatic negotiations preliminary to this marriage.
Anne had passed her childhood at Hever Castle, surrounded by all that
could heat the imagination. Her maternal grandfather, the earl of
Surrey, whose eldest son had married the sister of Henry the Seventh's
queen, had filled, as did his sons also, the most important offices of
state. At the age probably of fourteen, when summoned by her father to
court, she wrote him the following letter in French, which appears to
refer to her departure for France:--

     "SIR,--I find by your letter that you wish me to appear at
     court in a manner becoming a respectable female, and
     likewise that the queen will condescend to enter into
     conversation with me; at this I rejoice, as I do to think,
     that conversing with so sensible and elegant a princess will
     make me even more desirous of continuing to speak and to
     write good French; the more as it is by your earnest advice,
     which (I acquaint you by this present writing) I shall
     follow to the best of my ability.... As to myself, rest
     assured that I shall not ungratefully look upon this
     fatherly office as one that might be dispensed with; nor
     will it tend to diminish my affection, quest [wish], and
     deliberation to lead as holy a life as you may please to
     desire of me; indeed my love for you is founded on so firm a
     basis that it can never be impaired. I put an end to this my
     lucubration after having very humbly craved your good will
     and affection. Written at Hever, by

  "Your very humble and obedient daughter,
  ANNA DE BOULLAN."[243]

  [243] The French original is preserved among Archbishop Parker's MSS.
  at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. The translation in the text is
  (with a slight variation) from Sir H. Ellis's Collection of royal and
  other letters. vol. ii. second series.

[Sidenote: MARY MARRIES BRANDON.]

Such were the feelings under which this young and interesting lady, so
calumniated by papistical writers, appeared at court.

The marriage was celebrated at Abbeville on the 9th of October 1514,
and after a sumptuous banquet, the king of France distributed his
royal largesses among the English lords, who were charmed by his
courtesy. But the morrow was a day of trial to the young queen. Louis
XII had dismissed the numerous train which had accompanied her, and
even Lady Guildford, to whom Henry had specially confided her. Three
only were left,--of whom the youthful Anne Boleyn was one. At this
separation, Mary gave way to the keenest sorrow. To cheer her spirits,
Louis proclaimed a grand tournament. Brandon hastened to France at its
first announcement, and carried off all the prizes; while the king,
languidly reclining on a couch, could with difficulty look upon the
brilliant spectacle over which his queen presided, sick at heart yet
radiant with youth and beauty. Mary was unable to conceal her emotion,
and Louisa of Savoy, who was watching her, divined her secret. But
Louis, if he experienced the tortures of jealousy, did not feel them
long, for his death took place on the 1st January 1515.

Even before her husband's funeral was over, Mary's heart beat high
with hope. Francis I, impatient to see her wedded to some unimportant
political personage, encouraged her love for Brandon. The latter, who
had been commissioned by Henry to convey to her his letters of
condolence, feared his master's anger if he should dare aspire to the
hand of the princess. But the widowed queen, who was resolved to brave
every thing, told her lover: "Either you marry me in four days or you
see me no more." The choice the king had made of his ambassador
announced that he would not behave very harshly. The marriage was
celebrated in the abbey of Clugny, and Henry pardoned them.

[Sidenote: OXFORD.]

While Mary returned to England, as Wolsey had predicted, Anne Boleyn
remained in France. Her father, desiring his daughter to become an
accomplished woman, intrusted her to the care of the virtuous Claude
of France, _the good queen_, at whose court the daughters of the first
families of the kingdom were trained. Margaret, duchess of Alencon,
the sister of Francis, and afterwards queen of Navarre, often charmed
the queen's circle by her lively conversation. She soon became deeply
attached to the young Englishwoman, and on the death of Claude took
her into her own family. Anne Boleyn was destined at no very remote
period to be at the court of London a reflection of the graceful
Margaret, and her relations with that princess were not without
influence on the English Reformation.

And indeed the literary movement which had passed from Italy into
France appeared at that time as if it would cross from France into
Britain. Oxford exercises over England as great an influence as the
metropolis; and it is almost always within its walls that a movement
commences whether for good or evil. At this period of our history, an
enthusiastic youth hailed with joy the first beams of the new sun, and
attacked with their sarcasms the idleness of the monks, the immorality
of the clergy, and the superstition of the people. Disgusted with the
priestcraft of the middle ages, and captivated by the writers of
antiquity and the purity of the Gospel, Oxford boldly called for a
reform which should burst the bonds of clerical domination and
emancipate the human mind. Men of letters thought for a while that
they had found the most powerful man in England in Wolsey, the ally
that would give them the victory.

He possessed little taste for learning, but seeing the wind of public
favour blow in that direction, he readily spread his sails before it.
He got the reputation of a profound divine, by quoting a few words of
Thomas Aquinas, and the fame of a Mæcenas and Ptolemy, by inviting the
learned to his gorgeous entertainments. "O happy cardinal," exclaimed
Erasmus, "who can surround his table with such torches!"[244]

  [244] Cujus mensa talibus luminibus cingitur. Erasm. Ep. 725.

At that time the king felt the same ambition as his minister, and
having tasted in turn the pleasures of war and diplomacy, he now bent
his mind to literature. He desired Wolsey to present Sir Thomas More
to him.--"What shall I do at court?" replied the latter. "I shall be
as awkward as a man that never rode sitteth in a saddle." Happy in his
family circle, where his father, mother, and children, gathering round
the same table, formed a pleasing group, which the pencil of Holbein
has transmitted to us, More had no desire to leave it. But Henry was
not a man to put up with a refusal; he employed force almost to draw
More from his retirement, and in a short time he could not live
without the society of the man of letters. On calm and starlight
nights they would walk together upon the leads at the top of the
palace, discoursing on the motions of the heavenly bodies. If More did
not appear at court, Henry would go to Chelsea and share the frugal
dinner of the family with some of their simple neighbours. "Where,"
asked Erasmus, "where is the Athens, the Porch, or the Academe, that
can be compared with the court of England?... It is a seat of the
muses rather than a palace.... The golden age is reviving, and I
congratulate the world."

[Sidenote: THE MONASTERIES ASSAILED.]

But the friends of classical learning were not content with the
cardinal's banquets or the king's favours. They wanted victories, and
their keenest darts were aimed at the cloisters, those strong
fortresses of the hierarchy and of uncleanness.[245] The abbot of
Saint Albans, having taken a married woman for his concubine, and
placed her at the head of a nunnery, his monks had followed his
example, and indulged in the most scandalous debauchery. Public
indignation was so far aroused, that Wolsey himself--Wolsey, the
father of several illegitimate children, and who was suffering the
penalty of his irregularities[246]--was carried away by the spirit of
the age, and demanded of the pope a general reform of manners. When
they heard of this request, the priests and friars were loud in their
outcries. "What are you about?" said they to Wolsey. "You are giving
the victory to the enemies of the church, and your only reward will be
the hatred of the whole world." As this was not the cardinal's game,
he abandoned his project, and conceived one more easily executed.
Wishing to deserve the name of "Ptolemy" conferred on him by Erasmus,
he undertook to build two large colleges, one at Ipswich, his native
town, the other at Oxford; and found it convenient to take the money
necessary for their endowment, not from his own purse, but from the
purses of the monks. He pointed out to the pope twenty-two monasteries
in which (he said) vice and impiety had taken up their abode.[247] The
pope granted their secularization, and Wolsey having thus procured a
revenue of £2000 sterling, laid the foundations of his college, traced
out various courts, and constructed spacious kitchens. He fell into
disgrace before he had completed his work, which led Gualter to say
with a sneer: "He began a college and built a cook's shop."[248] But a
great example had been set: the monasteries had been attacked, and the
first breach made in them by a cardinal. Cromwell, Wolsey's secretary,
remarked how his master had set about his work, and in after-years
profited by the lesson.

  [245] Loca sacra etiam ipsa Dei templa monialium stupro et sanguinis
  et seminis effusione profanare non verentur. Papal bull. Wilkins,
  Concilia, p. 632.

  [246] Morbus venereus. Burnet.

  [247] Wherein much vice and wickedness was harboured. Strype, i. 169.
  The names of the monasteries are given. Ibid. ii. 132.

  [248] Instituit collegium et absolvit popinam. Fuller, cent. xvi. p.
  169.

[Sidenote: COLET PREACHES THE REFORMATION.]

It was fortunate for letters that they had sincerer friends in London
than Wolsey. Of these were Colet, dean of St. Paul's, whose house was
the centre of the literary movement which preceded the Reformation,
and his friend and guest Erasmus. The latter was the hardy pioneer who
opened the road of antiquity to modern Europe. One day he would
entertain Colet's guests with the account of a new manuscript; on
another, with a discussion on the forms of ancient literature; and at
other times he would attack the schoolmen and monks, when Colet would
take the same side. The only antagonist who dared measure his strength
with him was Sir Thomas More, who, although a layman, stoutly defended
the ordinances of the church.

But mere table-talk could not satisfy the dean: a numerous audience
attended his sermons at St. Paul's. The spirituality of Christ's
words, the authority which characterizes them, their admirable
simplicity and mysterious depth, had deeply charmed him: "I admire the
writings of the apostles," he would say, "but I forget them almost,
when I contemplate the wonderful majesty of Jesus Christ."[249]
Setting aside the tests prescribed by the church, he explained, like
Zwingle, the Gospel of St. Matthew. Nor did he stop here. Taking
advantage of the Convocation, he delivered a sermon on _conformation_
and _reformation_, which was one of the numerous forerunners of the
great reform of the sixteenth century. "We see strange and heretical
ideas appear in our days, and no wonder," said he. "But you must know
there is no heresy more dangerous to the church than the vicious lives
of its priests. A reformation is needed; and that reformation must
begin with the bishops and be extended to the priests. The clergy once
reformed, we shall proceed to the reformation of the people."[250]
Thus spoke Colet, while the citizens of London listened to him with
rapture, and called him a new Saint Paul.[251]

  [249] Ita suspiciebat admirabilem illam Christi majestatem. Erasm.
  Epp. 707.

  [250] Colet, Sermon to the Convocation.

  [251] Pene apostolus Paulus habitus est. (Polyd. Virg. p. 618.) He was
  accounted almost an apostle Paul.

Such discourses could not be allowed to pass unpunished. Fitzjames,
bishop of London, was a superstitious obstinate old man of eighty,
fond of money, excessively irritable, a poor theologian, and a slave
to Duns Scotus, the _subtle doctor_. Calling to his aid two other
bishops as zealous as himself for the preservation of abuses, namely,
Bricot and Standish, he denounced the dean of St. Paul's to Warham.
The archbishop having inquired what he had done: "What has he done?"
rejoined the bishop of London. "He teaches that we must not worship
images; he translates the Lord's Prayer into English; he pretends that
the text _Feed my sheep_, does not include the temporal supplies the
clergy draw from their flock. And besides all this," he continued with
some embarrassment, "he has spoken against those who carry their
manuscripts into the pulpit and read their sermons!" As this was the
bishop's practice, the primate could not refrain from smiling; and
since Colet refused to justify himself, Warham did so for him.

[Sidenote: GREEKS AND TROJANS.]

From that time Colet laboured with fresh zeal to scatter the darkness.
He devoted the larger portion of his fortune to found the celebrated
school of St. Paul, of which the learned Lilly was the first master.
Two parties, the _Greeks_ and the _Trojans_, entered the lists, not to
contend with sword and spear, as in the ancient epic, but with the
tongue, the pen, and sometimes the fist. If the _Trojans_ (the
obscurants) were defeated in the public disputations, they had their
revenge in the secret of the confessional. _Cave a Græcis ne fias
hereticus_,[252] was the watchword of the priests--their daily lesson
to the youths under their care. They looked on the school founded by
Colet as the monstrous horse of the perjured Sinon, and announced that
from its bosom would inevitably issue the destruction of the people.
Colet and Erasmus replied to the monks by inflicting fresh blows.
Linacre, a thorough literary enthusiast,--Grocyn, a man of sarcastic
humour but generous heart,--and many others, reinforced the _Grecian_
phalanx. Henry himself used to take one of them with him during his
journeys, and if any unlucky _Trojan_ ventured in his presence to
attack the tongue of Plato and of Saint Paul, the young king would set
his Hellenian on him. Not more numerous were the contests witnessed in
times of yore on the classic banks of Xanthus and Simois.

  [252] Beware of the Greeks, lest you should become a heretic.




CHAPTER XII.

     Wolsey--His first Commission--His complaisance and
     Dioceses--Cardinal, Chancellor, and Legate--Ostentation and
     Necromancy--His Spies and Enmity--Pretensions of the Clergy.


[Sidenote: WOLSEY.]

Just as everything seemed tending to a reformation, a powerful priest
rendered the way more difficult.

One of the most striking personages of the age was then making his
appearance on the stage of the world. It was the destiny of that man,
in the reign of Henry VIII, to combine extreme ability with extreme
immorality; and to be a new and striking example of the wholesome
truth that immorality is more effectual to destroy a man than ability
to save him. Wolsey was the last high-priest of Rome in England, and
when his fall startled the nation, it was the signal of a still more
striking fall--the fall of popery.

Thomas Wolsey, the son of a wealthy butcher of Ipswich, according to
the common story, which is sanctioned by high authority, had attained
under Henry VII the post of almoner, at the recommendation of Sir
Richard Nanfan, treasurer of Calais and an old patron of his. But
Wolsey was not at all desirous of passing his life in saying mass. As
soon as he had discharged the regular duties of his office, instead of
spending the rest of the day in idleness, as his colleagues did, he
strove to win the good graces of the persons round the king.

Fox, Bishop of Winchester, keeper of the privy-seal under Henry VII,
uneasy at the growing power of the earl of Surrey, looked about for a
man to counterbalance them. He thought he had found such a one in
Wolsey. It was to oppose the Surreys, the grandfather and uncles of
Anne Boleyn, that the son of the Ipswich butcher was drawn from his
obscurity. This is not an unimportant circumstance in our narrative.
Fox began to praise Wolsey in the king's hearing, and at the same time
he encouraged the almoner to give himself to public affairs. The
latter was not deaf,[253] and soon found an opportunity of winning his
sovereign's favour.

  [253] Hæc Wolseius non surdis audierit auribus. (Polyd. Virg. 622.)
  Wolsey heard these words, not with deaf ears.

[Sidenote: HIS FIRST SERVICES UNDER HENRY VII.]

The king having business of importance with the emperor, who was then
in Flanders, sent for Wolsey, explained his wishes, and ordered him
to prepare to set out. The chaplain determined to show Henry VII how
capable he was of serving him. It was long past noon when he took
leave of the king at Richmond--at four o'clock he was in London, at
seven at Gravesend. By travelling all night he reached Dover just as
the packet-boat was about to sail. After a passage of three hours he
reached Calais, whence he travelled post, and the same evening
appeared before Maximilian. Having obtained what he desired, he set
off again by night, and on the next day but one reached Richmond,
three days and some few hours after his departure. The king, catching
sight of him just as he was going to mass, sharply inquired, why he
had not set out. "Sire, I am just returned," answered Wolsey, placing
the emperor's letters in his master's hands. Henry was delighted, and
Wolsey saw that his fortune was made.

The courtiers hoped at first that Wolsey, like an inexperienced pilot,
would run his vessel on some hidden rock; but never did helmsman
manage his ship with more skill. Although twenty years older than
Henry VIII the almoner danced, and sang, and laughed with the prince's
companions, and amused his new master with tales of scandal and
quotations from Thomas Aquinas. The young king found his house a
temple of paganism, a shrine of voluptuousness;[254] and while Henry's
councillors were entreating him to leave his pleasures and attend to
business, Wolsey was continually reminding him that he ought to devote
his youth to learning and amusement, and leave the toils of government
to others. Wolsey was created bishop of Tournay during the campaign in
Flanders, and on his return to England, was raised to the sees of
Lincoln and of York. Three mitres had been placed on his head in one
year. He found at last the vein he so ardently sought for.

  [254] Domi suæ voluptatum omnium sacrarium fecit. (Polyd. Virg. 623.)
  He made his house a shrine of all voluptuousness.

[Sidenote: OSTENTATION AND NECROMANCY.]

And yet he was not satisfied. The archbishop of Canterbury had
insisted, as primate, that the cross of York should be lowered to his.
Wolsey was not of a disposition to concede this, and when he found
that Warham was not content with being his equal, he resolved to make
him his inferior. He wrote to Paris and to Rome. Francis I, who
desired to conciliate England, demanded the purple for Wolsey, and the
archbishop of York received the title of Cardinal St. Cecilia beyond
the Tiber. In November 1515, his hat was brought by the envoy of the
pope: "It would have been better to have given him a Tyburn tippet,"
said some indignant Englishmen; "these Romish hats never brought good
into England"[255]--a saying that has become proverbial.

  [255] Latimer's Sermons (Parker Society), p. 119.

This was not enough for Wolsey: he desired secular greatness above all
things. Warham, tired of contending with so arrogant a rival, resigned
the seals, and the king immediately transferred them to the cardinal.
At length a bull appointed him legate _a latere_ of the holy see, and
placed under his jurisdiction all the colleges, monasteries, spiritual
courts, bishops, and the primate himself (1519). From that time, as
lord-chancellor of England and legate, Wolsey administered every thing
in church and state. He filled his coffers with money procured both at
home and from abroad, and yielded without restraint to his dominant
vices, ostentation and pride. Whenever he appeared in public, two
priests, the tallest and comeliest that could be found, carried before
him two huge silver crosses, one to mark his dignity as archbishop,
the other as papal legate. Chamberlains, gentlemen, pages, sergeants,
chaplains, choristers, clerks, cupbearers, cooks, and other domestics,
to the number of more than 500, among whom were nine or ten lords and
the stateliest yeomen of the country, filled his palace. He generally
wore a dress of scarlet velvet and silk, with hat and gloves of the
same colour. His shoes were embroidered with gold and silver, inlaid
with pearls and precious stones. A kind of papacy was thus forming in
England; for wherever pride flourishes there popery is developed.

One thing occupied Wolsey more than all the pomp with which he was
surrounded: his desire, namely, to captivate the king. For this
purpose he cast Henry's nativity, and procured an amulet which he wore
constantly, in order to charm his master by its magic properties.[256]
Then having recourse to a still more effectual necromancy, he selected
from among the licentious companions of the young monarch those of the
keenest discernment and most ambitious character; and after binding
them to him by a solemn oath, he placed them at court to be as eyes
and ears to him. Accordingly not a word was said in the presence of
the monarch, particularly against Wolsey, of which he was not informed
an hour afterwards. If the culprit was not in favour, he was expelled
without mercy; in the contrary case, the minister sent him on some
distant mission. The queen's ladies, the king's chaplains, and even
their confessors, were the cardinal's spies. He pretended to
omnipresence, as the pope to infallibility.

  [256] He calked [calculated] the king's nativity ... he made by craft
  of necromancy graven imagery to bear upon him, wherewith he bewitched
  the king's mind. Tyndale's Expositions (Parker Soc.) p. 308.

Wolsey was not devoid of certain showy virtues, for he was liberal to
the poor even to affectation, and as chancellor inexorable to every
kind of irregularity, and strove particularly to make the rich and
high-born bend beneath his power. Men of learning alone obtained from
him some little attention, and hence Erasmus calls him "the Achates of
a new Æneas." But the nation was not to be carried away by the
eulogies of a few scholars. Wolsey--a man of more than suspected
morals, double-hearted, faithless to his promises, oppressing the
people with heavy taxes, and exceedingly arrogant to every
body--Wolsey soon became hated by the people of England.

[Sidenote: A CLAIM OF THE CLERGY.]

The elevation of a prince of the Roman church could not be favourable
to the Reformation. The priests, encouraged by it, determined to make
a stand against the triple attack of the learned, the reformers, and
the state; and they soon had an opportunity of trying their strength.
Holy orders had become during the middle ages a warrant for every sort
of crime. Parliament, desirous of correcting this abuse and checking
the encroachments of the church, declared in the year 1513 that any
ecclesiastic, accused of theft or murder, should be tried before the
secular tribunals. Exceptions, however, were made in favour of
bishops, priests, and deacons--that is to say, nearly all the clergy.
Notwithstanding this timid precaution, an insolent clerk, the abbot of
Winchelcomb, began the battle by exclaiming at St. Paul's: "_Touch not
mine anointed_, said the Lord." At the same time Wolsey, accompanied
by a long train of priests and prelates, had an audience of the king,
at which he said with hands upraised to heaven: "Sire, to try a clerk,
is a violation of God's laws." This time, however, Henry did not give
way. "By God's will, we are king of England," he replied, "and the
kings of England in times past had never any superior but God only.
Therefore know you well that we will maintain the right of our crown."
He saw distinctly that to put the clergy above the laws was to put
them above the throne. The priests were beaten, but not disheartened:
perseverance is a characteristic feature of every hierarchical order.
Not walking by faith, they walk all the more by sight; and skilful
combinations supply the place of the holy aspirations of the
Christian. Humble disciples of the Gospel were soon to experience
this, for the clergy by a few isolated attacks were about to flesh
themselves for the great struggles of the Reformation.




CHAPTER XIII.

     The Wolves--Richard Hun--A murder--Verdict of the Jury--Hun
     condemned, and his Character vindicated--The Gravesend
     Passage-boat--A festival disturbed--Brown tortured--Visit
     from his Wife--A Martyr--Character of Erasmus--1516 and
     1517--Erasmus goes to Basle.


[Sidenote: THE WOLVES--RICHARD HUN.]

It is occasionally necessary to soften down the somewhat exaggerated
colours in which contemporary writers describe the Romish clergy; but
there are certain appellations which history is bound to accept. The
_wolves_, for so the priests were called, by attacking the Lords and
Commons had attempted a work beyond their reach. They turned their
wrath on others. There were many shepherds endeavouring to gather
together the sheep of the Lord beside the peaceful waters: these must
be frightened, and the sheep driven into the howling wilderness. "The
wolves" determined to fall upon the Lollards.

There lived in London an honest tradesman named Richard Hun, one of
those witnesses of the truth who, sincere though unenlightened, have
often been found in the bosom of Catholicism. It was his practice to
retire to his closet and spend a portion of each day in the study of
the Bible. At the death of one of his children, the priest required of
him an exorbitant fee, which Hun refused to pay, and for which he was
summoned before the legate's court. Animated by that public spirit,
which characterizes the people of England, he felt indignant that an
Englishman should be cited before a foreign tribunal, and laid an
information against the priest and his counsel under the act of
_præmunire_. Such boldness--most extraordinary at that time--
exasperated the clergy beyond all bounds. "If these proud
citizens are allowed to have their way," exclaimed the monks, "every
layman will dare to resist a priest."

[Sidenote: RICHARD HUN'S MURDER.]

Exertions were accordingly made to snare the pretended rebel in the
trap of heresy;[257] he was thrown into the Lollards' tower at St.
Paul's, and an iron collar was fastened round his neck, attached to
which was a chain so heavy that neither man nor beast (says Foxe)
would have been able to bear it long. When taken before his judges,
they could not convict him of heresy, and it was observed with
astonishment "that he had his beads in prison with him."[258] They
would have set him at liberty, after inflicting on him perhaps some
trifling penance--but then, what a bad example it would be, and who
could stop the reformers, if it was so easy to resist the papacy?
Unable to triumph by justice, certain fanatics resolved to triumph by
crime.

  [257] Foxe, Acts and Mon. ii. p. 8. Folio, 1684, London.

  [258] Foxe, Acts and Mon. ii. p. 8. Folio. 1684, London.

At midnight on the 2nd December--the day of his examination--three men
stealthily ascended the stairs of the Lollards' tower: the bellringer
went first carrying a torch; a sergeant named Charles Joseph followed,
and last came the bishop's chancellor. Having entered the cell, they
went up to the bed on which Hun was lying, and finding that he was
asleep, the chancellor said: "Lay hands on the thief." Charles Joseph
and the bellringer fell upon the prisoner, who, awaking with a start,
saw at a glance what this midnight visit meant. He resisted the
assassins at first, but was soon overpowered and strangled. Charles
Joseph then fixed the dead man's belt round his neck, the bellringer
helped to raise his lifeless body, and the chancellor slipped the
other end of the belt through a ring fixed in the wall. They then
placed his cap on his head, and hastily quitted the cell.[259]
Immediately after, the conscience-stricken Charles Joseph got on
horseback and rode from the city; the bellringer left the cathedral
and hid himself: the crime dispersed the criminals. The chancellor
alone kept his ground, and he was at prayers when the news was brought
him that the turnkey had found Hun hanging. "He must have killed
himself in despair," said the hypocrite. But every one knew poor Hun's
Christian feelings. "It is the priests who have murdered him," was the
general cry in London, and an inquest was ordered to be held on his
body.

  [259] Ibid. p. 13. "And so all we murdered Hun ... and so Hun was
  hanged." (Evidence of Charles Joseph.)

[Sidenote: HUN CONDEMNED.]

On Tuesday, the 5th of December, William Barnwell the city coroner,
the two sheriffs, and twenty-four jurymen, proceeded to the Lollards'
tower. They remarked that the belt was so short that the head could
not be got out of it, and that consequently it had never been placed
in it voluntarily, and hence the jury concluded that the suspension
was an after-thought of some other persons. Moreover they found that
the ring was too high for the poor victim to reach it,--that the body
bore marks of violence--and that traces of blood were to be seen in
the cell: "Wherefore all we find by God and all our consciences (runs
the verdict), that Richard Hun was murdered. Also we acquit the said
Richard Hun of his own death."[260]

  [260] For particulars of the Inquest, see Foxe, Acts and Mon. ii. 14.

It was but too true, and the criminals themselves confessed it. The
miserable Charles Joseph having returned home on the evening of the
6th December, said to his maid-servant: "If you will swear to keep my
secret, I will tell you all."--"Yes, master," she replied, "if it is
neither felony nor treason."--Joseph took a book, swore the girl on
it, and then said to her: "I have killed Richard Hun!"--"O master!
how? he was called a worthy man."--"I would lever [rather] than a
hundred pounds it were not done," he made answer; "but what is done
cannot be undone." He then rushed out of the house.

The clergy foresaw what a serious blow this unhappy affair would be to
them, and to justify themselves they examined Hun's Bible (it was
Wickliffe's version), and having read in the preface that "poor men
and idiots [simple folks] have the truth of the holy Scriptures more
than a thousand prelates and religious men and clerks of the school,"
and further, that "the pope ought to be called Antichrist," the bishop
of London, assisted by the bishops of Durham and Lincoln, declared Hun
guilty of heresy, and on the 20th December his dead body was burnt at
Smithfield. "Hun's bone's have been burnt, and therefore he was a
heretic," said the priests; "he was a heretic, and therefore he
committed suicide."

The triumph of the clergy was of short duration; for almost at same
time William Horsey, the bishop's chancellor, Charles Joseph, and John
Spalding the bellringer, were convicted of the murder. A bill passed
the Commons restoring Hun's property to his family and vindicating his
character; the Lords accepted the bill, and the king himself said to
the priests: "Restore to these wretched children the property of their
father whom you so cruelly murdered to our great and just
horror."[261]--"If the clerical theocracy should gain the mastery of
the state," was the general remark in London, "it would not only be a
very great lie, but the most frightful tyranny!" England has never
gone back since that time, and a theocratic rule has always inspired
the sound portion of the nation with a just and insurmountable
antipathy. Such were the events taking place in England shortly before
the Reformation. This was not all.

  [261] Verdict on the Inquest; Foxe, 12.

[Sidenote: THE GRAVESEND BOAT.]

The clergy had not been fortunate in Hun's affair, but they were not
for that reason unwilling to attempt a new one.

In the spring of 1517--the year in which Luther posted up his
_theses_--a priest, whose manners announced a man swollen with pride,
happened to be on board the passage-boat from London to Gravesend with
an intelligent and pious Christian of Ashford, by name John Brown. The
passengers, as they floated down the stream, were amusing themselves
by watching the banks glide away from them, when the priest, turning
towards Brown, said to him insolently: "You are too near me, get
farther off. Do you know who I am?"--"No, sir," answered
Brown.--"Well, then, you must know that I am a priest."--"Indeed, sir;
are you a parson, or vicar, or a lady's chaplain?"--"No; I am a
_soul-priest_," he haughtily replied; "I sing mass to save
souls."--"Do you, sir," rejoined Brown somewhat ironically, "that is
well done; and can you tell me where you find the soul when you begin
the mass?"--"I cannot," said the priest.--"And where you leave it when
the mass is ended?"--"I do not know."--"What!" continued Brown with
marks of astonishment, "you do not know where you find the soul or
where you leave it ... and yet you say that you save it!"--"Go thy
ways," said the priest angrily, "thou art a heretic, and I will be
even with thee." Thenceforward the priest and his neighbour conversed
no more together. At last they reached Gravesend, and the boat
anchored.

As soon as the priest had landed, he hastened to two of his friends,
Walter and William More, and all three mounting their horses, set off
for Canterbury, and denounced Brown to the archbishop.

[Sidenote: BROWN PUT TO THE TORTURE.]

In the meantime John Brown had reached home. Three days later, his
wife, Elizabeth, who had just left her chamber, went to church,
dressed all in white, to return thanks to God for delivering her in
the perils of childbirth. Her husband, assisted by her daughter Alice
and the maid-servant, were preparing for their friends the feast usual
on such occasions, and they had all of them taken their seats at
table, joy beaming on every face, when the street-door was abruptly
opened, and Chilton, the constable, a cruel and savage man,
accompanied by several of the archbishop's apparitors, seized upon the
worthy townsman. All sprang from their seats in alarm; Elizabeth and
Alice uttered the most heart-rending cries; but the primate's
officers, without showing any emotion, pulled Brown out of the house,
and placed him on horseback, tying his feet under the animal's
belly.[262] It is a serious matter to jest with a priest. The
cavalcade rode off quickly, and Brown was thrown into prison, and
there left forty days.

  [262] Foxe, Acts, ii, p. 7. His feet bound under his own horse.

At the end of this time, the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishop
of Rochester called before them the impudent fellow who doubted
whether a priest's mass could save souls, and required him to retract
this "blasphemy." But Brown, if he did not believe in the mass,
believed in the Gospel: "Christ was once offered," he said, "to take
away the sins of many. It is by this sacrifice we are saved, and not
by the repetitions of the priests." At this reply the archbishop made
a sign to the executioners, one of whom took off the shoes and
stockings of this pious Christian, while the other brought in a pan of
burning coals, upon which they set the martyr's feet.[263] The English
laws in truth forbade torture to be inflicted on any subject of the
crown, but the clergy thought themselves above the laws. "Confess the
efficacity of the mass," cried the two bishops to poor Brown. "If I
deny my Lord upon earth," he replied, "He will deny me before his
Father in heaven." The flesh was burnt off the soles of the feet even
to the bones, and still John Brown remained unshaken. The bishops
therefore ordered him to be given over to the secular arm that he
might be burnt alive.

  [263] His bare feet were set upon hot burning coals. The Lollards
  (edit. Tract Soc.), p. 149.

On the Saturday preceding the festival of Pentecost, in the year 1517,
the martyr was led back to Ashford, where he arrived just as the day
was drawing to a close. A number of idle persons were collected in the
street, and among them was Brown's maid-servant, who ran off crying to
the house, and told her mistress: "I have seen him!... He was bound,
and they were taking him to prison."[264] Elizabeth hastened to her
husband and found him sitting with his feet in the stocks, his
features changed by suffering, and expecting to be burnt alive on the
morrow. The poor woman sat down beside him, weeping most bitterly,
while he, being hindered by his chains, could not so much as bend
towards her. "I cannot set my feet to the ground," said he, "for
bishops have burnt them to the bones; but they could not burn my
tongue and prevent my confessing the Lord.... O Elizabeth! ...
continue to love him for He is good; and bring up our children in his
fear."

  [264] A young maid of his house coming by saw her master; she ran
  home. Ibid. p. 50.

[Sidenote: MARTYRDOM.]

On the following morning--it was Whitsunday--the brutal Chilton and
his assistants led Brown to the place of execution, and fastened him
to the stake. Elizabeth and Alice, with his other children and his
friends, desirous of receiving his last sigh, surrounded the pile,
uttering cries of anguish. The fagots were set on fire, while Brown,
calm and collected, and full of confidence in the blood of the
Saviour, clasped his hands, and repeated this hymn, which Foxe has
preserved:--[265]

    O Lord, I yield me to thy grace,
    Grant me mercy for my trespass;
    Let never the fiend my soul chase.
    Lord, I will bow, and thou shalt beat,
    Let never my soul come in hell-heat.

  [265] Foxe, Acts and Mon. ii. p. 8 (folio 1684), iv. p. 132 (Lond.
  1838). We shall in future refer to the latter edition, as being more
  accessible.

The martyr was silent: the flames had consumed their victim. Then
redoubled cries of anguish rent the air. His wife and daughter seemed
as if they would lose their senses. The bystanders showed them the
tenderest compassion, and turned with a movement of indignation
towards the executioners. The brutal Chilton perceiving this, cried
out:--"Come along; let us toss the heretic's children into the flames,
lest they should one day spring from their father's ashes."[266] He
rushed towards Alice, and was about to lay hold of her, when the
maiden shrank back screaming with horror. To the end of her life, she
recollected the fearful moment, and to her we are indebted for the
particulars. The fury of the monster was checked. Such were the scenes
passing in England shortly before the Reformation.

  [266] Bade cast in his children also, for they would spring of his
  ashes. Ibid.

The priests were not yet satisfied, for the scholars still remained in
England: if they could not be burnt, they should at least be banished.
They set to work accordingly. Standish, bishop of St. Asaph, a sincere
man, as it would seem, but fanatical, was inveterate in his hatred of
Erasmus, who had irritated him by an idle sarcasm. When speaking of
_St. Asaph's_ it was very common to abbreviate it into _St. As's_; and
as Standish was a theologian of no great learning, Erasmus, in his
jesting way, would sometimes call him _Episcopus a Sancto Asino_. As
the bishop could not destroy Colet, the disciple, he flattered himself
that he should triumph over the master.

[Sidenote: 1516 and 1517.]

Erasmus knew Standish's intentions. Should he commence in England that
struggle with the papacy which Luther was about to begin in Germany?
It was no longer possible to steer a middle course: he must either
fight or leave. The Dutchman was faithful to his nature--we may even
say, to his vocation: he left the country.

Erasmus was, in his time, the head of the great literary community. By
means of his connexions and his correspondence, which extended over
all Europe, he established between those countries where learning was
reviving, an interchange of ideas and manuscripts. The pioneer of
antiquity, an eminent critic, a witty satirist, the advocate of
correct taste, and a restorer of literature, one only glory was
wanting: he had not the creative spirit, the heroic soul of a Luther.
He calculated with no little skill, could detect the smile on the lips
or the knitting of the brows; but he had not that self-abandonment,
that enthusiasm for the truth, that firm confidence in God, without
which nothing great can be done in the world, and least of all in the
church. "Erasmus _had_ much, but _was_ little," said one of his
biographers.[267]

  [267] Ad. Muller.

In the year 1517 a crisis had arrived: the period of the revival was
over, that of the Reformation was beginning. The restoration of
letters was succeeded by the regeneration of religion: the days of
criticism and neutrality by those of courage and action. Erasmus was
then only forty-nine years old; but he had finished his career. From
being first, he must now be second: the monk of Wittemberg dethroned
him. He looked around himself in vain: placed in a new country, he had
lost his road. A hero was needed to inaugurate the great movement of
modern times: Erasmus was a mere man of letters.

[Sidenote: ERASMUS GOES TO BASLE.]

When attacked by Standish in 1516, the literary king determined to
quit the court of England, and take refuge in a printing-office. But
before laying down his sceptre at the foot of a Saxon monk, he
signalized the end of his reign by the most brilliant of his
publications. The epoch of 1516-17, memorable for the theses of
Luther, was destined to be equally remarkable by a work which was to
imprint on the new times their essential character. What distinguishes
the Reformation from all anterior revivals is the union of learning
with piety, and a faith more profound, more enlightened, and based on
the word of God. The Christian people was then emancipated from the
tutelage of the schools and the popes, and its charter of
enfranchisement was the Bible. The sixteenth century did more than its
predecessors: it went straight to the fountain (the Holy Scriptures),
cleared it of weeds and brambles, plumbed its depths, and caused its
abundant streams to pour forth on all around. The Reformation age
studied the Greek Testament, which the clerical age had almost
forgotten,--and this is its greatest glory. Now the first explorer of
this divine source was Erasmus. When attacked by the hierarchy, the
leader of the schools withdrew from the splendid halls of Henry VIII.
It seemed to him that the new era which he had announced to the world
was rudely interrupted: he could do nothing more by his conversation
for the country of the Tudors. But he carried with him those precious
leaves, the fruit of his labours--a book which would do more than he
desired. He hastened to Basle, and took up his quarters in Frobenius's
printing-office,[268] where he not only laboured himself, but made
others labour. England will soon receive the seed of the new life, and
the Reformation is about to begin.

  [268] Frobenio, ut nullius officinæ plus debeant sacrarum studia
  literarum. (Erasm. Ep. p. 330.) The study of sacred literature was
  more indebted to no printing-office than to that of Frobenius.




BOOK XVIII

THE REVIVAL OF THE CHURCH.




CHAPTER I.

     Four reforming Powers--Which reformed England?--Papal
     Reform?--Episcopal Reform?--Royal Reform?--What is required
     in a legitimate Reform--The Share of the Kingly Power--Share
     of the Episcopal Authority--High and Low Church--Political
     Events--The Greek and Latin New Testament--Thoughts of
     Erasmus--Enthusiasm and anger--Desire of Erasmus--Clamours
     of the Priests--Their Attack at Court--Astonishment of
     Erasmus--His Labours for this Work--Edward Lee; his
     Character--Lee's _Tragedy_--Conspiracy.


It was within the province of four powers in the sixteenth century to
effect a reformation of the church: these were the papacy, the
episcopate, the monarchy, and Holy Scripture.

The Reformation in England was essentially the work of Scripture.

The only true reformation is that which emanates from the word of God.
The Holy Scriptures, by bearing witness to the incarnation, death, and
resurrection of the Son of God, create in man by the Holy Ghost a
faith which justifies him. That faith which produces in him a new
life, unites him to Christ, without his requiring a chain of bishops
or a Roman mediator, who would separate him from the Saviour instead
of drawing him nearer. This Reformation _by the word_ restores that
spiritual Christianity which the outward and hierarchical religion had
destroyed; and from the regeneration of individuals naturally results
the regeneration of the church.

[Sidenote: THE REFORMATION, NOT ROYAL.]

The Reformation of England, perhaps to a greater extent than that of
the continent, was effected by the word of God. This statement may
appear paradoxical, but it is not the less true. Those great
individualities we meet with in Germany, Switzerland, and France--men
like Luther, Zwingle, and Calvin--do not appear in England; but Holy
Scripture is widely circulated. What brought light into the British
isles subsequently to the year 1517, and on a more extended scale
after the year 1526, was the word--the invisible power of the
invisible God. The religion of the anglo-Saxon race--a race called
more than any other to circulate the oracles of God throughout the
world--is particularly distinguished by its biblical character.

The Reformation of England could not be papal. No reform can be hoped
from that which ought to be not only reformed but abolished; and
besides, no monarch dethrones himself. We may even affirm that the
popedom has always felt a peculiar affection for its conquests in
Britain, and that they would have been the last it would have
renounced. A serious voice had declared in the middle of the fifteenth
century: "A reform is neither in the will nor in the power of the
popes."[269]

  [269] James of Juterbock, prior of the Carthusians: De septem ecclesiæ
  statibus opusculum.

The Reformation of England was not episcopal. Roman hierarchism will
never be abolished by Roman bishops. An episcopal assembly may
perhaps, as at Constance, depose three competing popes, but then it
will be to save the papacy. And if the bishops could not abolish the
papacy, still less could they reform themselves. The then existing
episcopal power being at enmity with the word of God, and the slave of
its own abuses, was incapable of renovating the church. On the
contrary, it exerted all its influence to prevent such a renovation.

The Reformation in England was not royal. Samuel, David, and Josiah
were able to do something for the raising up of the church, when God
again turned his face towards it; but a king cannot rob his people of
their religion, and still less can he give them one. It has often been
repeated that "the English Reformation derives its origin from the
monarch;" but the assertion is incorrect. The work of God, here as
elsewhere, cannot be put in comparison with the work of the king; and
if the latter was infinitely surpassed in importance, it was also
preceded in time by many years. The monarch was still keeping up a
vigorous resistance behind his intrenchments, when God had already
decided the victory along the whole line of operations.

[Sidenote: TWO PARTIES IN THE CHURCH.]

Shall we be told that a reform effected by any other principle than
the established authorities, both in _church_ and _state_, would have
been a revolution? But has God, the lawful sovereign of the church,
forbidden all revolution in a sinful world? A _revolution_ is not a
revolt. The fall of the first man was a great revolution: the
restoration of man by Jesus Christ was a counter-revolution. The
corruption occasioned by popery was allied to the fall: the
reformation accomplished in the sixteenth century was connected
therefore with the restoration. There will no doubt be other
interventions of the Deity, which will be revolutions in the same
direction as the Reformation. When God creates a new heaven and a new
earth, will not that be one of the most glorious of revolutions? The
Reformation by the word alone gives truth, alone gives unity; but more
than that, it alone bears the marks of true _legitimacy_; for the
church belongs not unto men, even though they be priests. God alone is
its lawful sovereign.

And yet the human elements which we have enumerated were not wholly
foreign to the work that was accomplishing in England. Besides the
word of God, other principles were in operation, and although less
radical and less primitive, they still retain the sympathy of eminent
men of that nation.

And in the first place, the intervention of the king's authority was
necessary to a certain point. Since the supremacy of Rome had been
established in England by several usages which had the force of law,
the intervention of the temporal power was necessary to break the
bonds which it had previously sanctioned. But it was requisite for the
monarchy, while adopting a negative and political action, to leave the
positive, doctrinal, and creative action to the word of God.

Besides the Reformation _in the name of the Scriptures_, there was
then in England another _in the name of the king_. The word of God
began, the kingly power followed; and ever since, these two forces
have sometimes gone together against the authority of the Roman
pontiffs--sometimes in opposition to each other, like those troops
which march side by side in the same army, against the same enemy, and
which have occasionally been seen, even on the field of battle, to
turn their swords against each other.

Finally, the episcopate, which had begun by opposing the Reformation,
was compelled to accept it in despite of its convictions. The majority
of the bishops were opposed to it; but the better portion were found
to incline, some to the side of outward reform, of which separation
from the papacy was the very essence, and others to the side of
internal reform, whose mainspring was union with Jesus Christ. Lastly,
the episcopate took up its ground on its own account, and soon two
great parties alone existed in England: the scriptural party and the
clerical party.

[Sidenote: POLITICAL EVENTS.]

These two parties have survived even to our days, and their colours
are still distinguishable in the river of the church, like the muddy
Arve and the limpid Rhone after their confluence. The royal supremacy,
from which many Christians, preferring the paths of independence, have
withdrawn since the end of the 16th century, is recognised by both
parties in the establishment, with some few exceptions. But whilst
the High Church is essentially hierarchical, the Low Church is
essentially biblical. In the one, the Church is above and the word
below; in the other, the Church is below and the Word above. These two
principles, evangelism and hierarchism, are found in the Christianity
of the first centuries, but with a signal difference. Hierarchism then
almost entirely effaced evangelism; in the age of protestantism, on
the contrary, evangelism continued to exist by the side of
hierarchism, and it has remained _de jure_, if not always _de facto_,
the only legitimate opinion of the church.

Thus there is in England a complication of influences and contests,
which render the Work more difficult to describe; but it is on that
very account more worthy the attention of the philosopher and the
Christian.

       *       *       *       *       *

Great events had just occurred in Europe. Francis I had crossed the
Alps, gained a signal victory at Marignano, and conquered the north of
Italy. The affrighted Maximilian knew of none who could save him but
Henry VIII. "I will adopt you; you shall be my successor in the
empire," he intimated to him in May 1516. "Your army shall invade
France; and then we will march together to Rome, where the sovereign
pontiff shall crown you king of the Romans." The king of France,
anxious to effect a diversion, had formed a league with Denmark and
Scotland, and had made preparations for invading England to place on
the throne the "white rose,"--the pretender Pole, heir to the claims
of the house of York.[270] Henry now showed his prudence; he declined
Maximilian's offer, and turned his whole attention to the security of
his kingdom. But while he refused to bear arms in France and Italy, a
war of quite another kind broke out in England.

  [270] A private combination, etc. Strype's Memorials, i. part ii. p.
  16.

[Sidenote: ARRIVAL OF THE NEW TESTAMENT.]

The great work of the 16th century was about to begin. A volume fresh
from the presses of Basle had just crossed the Channel. Being
transmitted to London, Oxford, and Cambridge, this book, the fruit of
Erasmus's vigils, soon found its way wherever there were friends of
learning. It was the _New Testament_ of our Lord Jesus Christ,
published for the first time in Greek with a new Latin translation--an
event more important for the world than would have been the landing of
the pretender in England, or the appearance of the chief of the Tudors
in Italy. This book, in which God has deposited for man's salvation
the seeds of life, was about to effect alone, without patrons and
without interpreters, the most astonishing revolution in Britain.

When Erasmus published this work, at the dawn, so to say, of modern
times, he did not see all its scope. Had he foreseen it, he would
perhaps have recoiled in alarm. He saw indeed that there was a great
work to be done, but he believed that all good men would unite to do
it with common accord. "A spiritual temple must be raised in desolated
Christendom," said he. "The mighty of this world will contribute
towards it their marble, their ivory, and their gold; I who am poor
and humble offer the foundation stone," and he laid down before the
world his edition of the Greek Testament. Then glancing disdainfully
at the traditions of men, he said: "It is not from human reservoirs,
fetid with stagnant waters, that we should draw the doctrine of
salvation; but from the pure and abundant streams that flow from the
heart of God." And when some of his suspicious friends spoke to him of
the difficulties of the times, he replied: "If the ship of the church
is to be saved from being swallowed up by the tempest, there is only
one anchor that can save it: it is the heavenly word, which, issuing
from the bosom of the Father, lives, speaks, and works still in the
Gospel."[271] These noble sentiments served as an introduction to
those blessed pages which were to reform England. Erasmus, like
Caiaphas, prophesied without being aware of it.

  [271] In evangelicis litteris, sermo ille coelestis, quondam e corde
  Patris ad nos profectus. (Erasm. Leoni, Ep. p. 1843) That heavenly
  word in the Gospel, formerly sent to us from the bosom of the Father.

[Sidenote: DEMAND OF ERASMUS.]

The New Testament in Greek and Latin had hardly appeared when it was
received by all men of upright mind with unprecedented enthusiasm.
Never had any book produced such a sensation. It was in every hand:
men struggled to procure it, read it eagerly, and would even kiss
it.[272] The words it contained enlightened every heart. But a
reaction soon took place. Traditional catholicism uttered a cry from
the depths of its noisome pools, (to use Erasmus's figure).
Franciscans and Dominicans, priests and bishops, not daring to attack
the educated and well-born, went among the ignorant populace, and
endeavoured by their tales and clamours to stir up susceptible women
and credulous men. "Here are horrible heresies," they exclaimed, "here
are frightful antichrists! If this book be tolerated it will be the
death of the papacy!"--"We must drive this man from the university,"
said one. "We must turn him out of the church," added another. "The
public places re-echoed with their howlings," said Erasmus.[273] The
firebrands tossed by their furious hands were raising fires in every
quarter; and the flames kindled in a few obscure convents threatened
to spread over the whole country.

  [272] Opus avidissime rapitur ...... amatur, manibus teritur (Er. Ep.
  557.) The work is most eagerly seized.... it is embraced, it is
  clasped in the hands.

  [273] Oblatrabant sycophantæ. (Erasm. Ep. p. 329.) The slanderers
  howled.

This irritation was not without a cause. The book, indeed, contained
nothing but Latin and Greek; but this first step seemed to augur
another--the translation of the Bible into the vulgar tongue. Erasmus
loudly called for it.[274] "Perhaps it may be necessary to conceal the
secrets of kings," he remarked, "but we must publish the mysteries of
Christ. The Holy Scriptures, translated into all languages, should be
read not only by the Scotch and Irish, but even by Turks and Saracens.
The husbandman should sing them as he holds the handle of his plough,
the weaver repeat them as he plies his shuttle, and the wearied
traveller, halting on his journey, refresh him under some shady tree
by these godly narratives." These words prefigured a golden age after
the iron age of popery. A number of Christian families in Britain and
on the continent were soon to realize these evangelical forebodings,
and England after three centuries was to endeavour to carry them out
for the benefit of all the nations on the face of the earth.

  [274] Paraclesis ad lectorem pium. Consolation to the pious reader.

The priests saw the danger, and by a skilful manoeuvre, instead of
finding fault with the Greek Testament, attacked the translation and
the translator. "He has corrected the Vulgate," they said, "and puts
himself in the place of Saint Jerome. He sets aside a work authorized
by the consent of ages and inspired by the Holy Ghost. What audacity!"
And then, turning over the pages, they pointed out the most odious
passages: "Look here! this book calls upon men to _repent_, instead of
requiring them, as the Vulgate does, _to do penance_!" (Matt. iv. 17.)
The priests thundered against him from their pulpits:[275] "This man
has committed the unpardonable sin," they asserted; "for he maintains
that there is nothing in common between the Holy Ghost and the
monks--that they are logs rather than men!" These simple remarks were
received with a general laugh; but the priests, in no wise
disconcerted, cried out all the louder: "He's a heretic, an
heresiarch, a forger! he's a goose[276] ... what do I say? he's a very
antichrist!"

  [275] Quam stolide debacchati sunt quidam e suggestis ad populum.
  (Erasm. Ep. p. 1193.) How stupidly some of them raved to the people
  out of their pulpits.

  [276] Nos clamitans esse grues (_cranes_) et bestias. (Ibid. p. 914.)
  Calling out that we are cranes and brutes.

[Sidenote: THE PRIEST'S ATTACK AT COURT.]

It was not sufficient for the papal janissaries to make war in the
plain, they must carry it to the higher ground. Was not the king a
friend of Erasmus? If he should declare himself a patron of the Greek
and Latin Testament, what an awful calamity!... After having agitated
the cloisters, towns, and universities, they resolved to protest
against it boldly, even in Henry's presence. They thought: "If he is
won, all is won." It happened one day that a certain theologian (whose
name is not given) having to preach in his turn before the king, he
declaimed violently against the _Greek_ language and its new
interpreters. Pace, the king's secretary, was present, and turning his
eyes on Henry, observed him smiling good humouredly.[277] On leaving
the church, every one began to exclaim against the preacher. "Bring
the priest to me," said the king; and then turning to More, he added:
"You shall defend the Greek cause against him, and I will listen to
the disputation." The literary tribunal was soon formed, but the
sovereign's order had taken away all the priest's courage. He came
forward trembling, fell on his knees, and with clasped hands
exclaimed: "I know not what spirit impelled me." "A spirit of
madness," said the king, "and not the spirit of Jesus Christ."[278] He
then added: "Have you ever read Erasmus?" "No, Sire." "Away with you
then, you are a blockhead." "And yet," said the preacher in confusion,
"I remember to have read something about _Moria_," (Erasmus's treatise
on _Folly_).--"A subject, your majesty, that ought to be very familiar
to him," wickedly interrupted Pace. The _obscurant_ could say nothing
in his justification. "I am not altogether opposed to the Greek," he
added at last, "seeing that it is derived from the Hebrew."[279] This
was greeted with a general laugh, and the king impatiently ordered the
monk to leave the room, and never appear before him again.

  [277] Pacæus in regem conjecit oculos.....Is mox Pacæo suaviter
  arrisit. Erasm. Ep. p. 914.

  [278] Tum rex: ut qui inquit, spiritus iste non erat Christi sed
  stultitiæ. Ibid.

  [279] Græcis, inquit, literis non perinde sum infensus, quod originem
  habeant ex lingua hebraica. Ibid. p. 347.

[Sidenote: LABOURS OF ERASMUS.]

Erasmus was astonished at these discussions. He had imagined the
season to be most favourable. "Every thing looks peaceful," he had
said to himself; "now is the time to launch my Greek Testament into
the learned world."[280] As well might the sun rise upon the earth,
and no one see it! At that very hour God was raising up a monk at
Wittemberg who would lift the trumpet to his lips, and proclaim the
new day. "Wretch that I am!" exclaimed the timid scholar, beating his
breast, "who could have forseen this horrible tempest!"[281]

  [280] Erant tempora tranquilla. (Erasm. Ep. 911.) The times were
  tranquil.

  [281] Quis enim suspicaturus erat hanc fatalem tempestatem exorituram
  in orbe? Erasm. Ep. 911.

Nothing was more important at the dawn of the Reformation than the
publication of the Testament of Jesus Christ in the original language.
Never had Erasmus worked so carefully. "If I told what sweat it cost
me, no one would believe me."[282] He had collated many Greek MSS. of
the New Testament,[283] and was surrounded by all the commentaries and
translations, by the writings of Origen, Cyprian, Ambrose, Basil,
Chrysostom, Cyril, Jerome, and Augustine. _Hic sum in campo meo!_ he
exclaimed as he sat in the midst of his books. He had investigated the
texts according to the principles of sacred criticism. When a
knowledge of Hebrew was necessary, he had consulted Capito and more
particularly OEcolampadius. _Nothing without Theseus_, said he of the
latter, making use of a Greek proverb. He had corrected the
amphibologies, obscurities, hebraisms, and barbarisms of the Vulgate;
and had caused a list to be printed of the errors in that version.

  [282] Quantis mihi constiterit sudoribus. Ibid. 329.

  [283] Collatis multis Græcorum exemplaribus. Ibid.

"We must restore the pure text of the word of God," he had said; and
when he heard the maledictions of the priests, he had exclaimed: "I
call God to witness I thought I was doing a work acceptable to the
Lord and necessary to the cause of Christ."[284] Nor in this was he
deceived.

  [284] Deum testor simpliciter existimabam me rem facere Deo gratam ac
  rei christianæ necessariam. Ibid. 911.

[Sidenote: EDWARD LEE.]

At the head of his adversaries was Edward Lee, successively king's
almoner, archdeacon of Colchester, and archbishop of York. Lee, at
that time but little known, was a man of talent and activity, but also
vain and loquacious, and determined to make his way at any cost. Even
when a school-boy he looked down on all his companions.[285] As child,
youth, man, and in mature years, he was always the same, Erasmus tells
us;[286] that is to say, vain, envious, jealous, boasting, passionate,
and revengeful. We must bear in mind, however, that when Erasmus
describes the character of his opponents, he is far from being an
impartial judge. In the bosom of Roman-catholicism, there have always
existed well-meaning, though ill-informed men, who, not knowing the
interior power of the word of God, have thought that if its authority
were substituted for that of the Romish church, the only foundation of
truth and of Christian society would be shaken. Yet while we judge
Lee less severely than Erasmus does, we cannot close our eyes to his
faults. His memory was richly furnished, but his heart was a stranger
to divine truth: he was a schoolman and not a believer. He wanted the
people to obey the church and not trouble themselves about the
Scriptures. He was the Doctor Eck of England, but with more of outward
appearance and morality than Luther's adversary. Yet he was by no
means a rigid moralist. On one occasion, when preaching at the palace,
he introduced ballads into his sermon, one of which began thus:--

               "Pass time with good company."

And the other:--

               "I love unloved."

  [285] Solus haberi in pretio volebat. (Ibid. 593) He wished that
  himself alone should be esteemed.

  [286] Talis erat puer, talis adolescens, talis juvenis, talis nunc
  etiam vir est. Ibid. 594.

We are indebted to Secretary Pace for this characteristic trait.[287]

  [287] State Papers, Henry VIII. etc. i. p. 10, pub. 1830.

During the sojourn of Erasmus in England, Lee, observing his
influence, had sought his friendship, and Erasmus, with his usual
courtesy, had solicited his advice upon his work. But Lee, jealous of
his great reputation, only waited for an opportunity to injure it,
which he seized upon as soon as it occurred. The New Testament had not
been long published, when Lee turned round abruptly, and from being
Erasmus's friend became his implacable adversary.[288] "If we do not
stop this leak," said he, when he heard of the New Testament, "it will
sink the ship." Nothing terrifies the defenders of human traditions so
much as the word of God.

  [288] Subito factus est inimicus. (Erasm. Ep. 746.) Suddenly he became
  unfriendly.

[Sidenote: LEE'S MANIFESTO.]

Lee immediately leagued himself with all those in England who abhorred
the study of Scripture, says Erasmus. Although exceedingly conceited,
he showed himself the most amiable of men, in order to accomplish his
designs. He invited Englishmen to his house, welcomed strangers, and
gained many recruits by the excellence of his dinners.[289] While
seated at table among his guests, he hinted perfidious charges against
Erasmus, and his company left him "loaded with lies."[290]--"In this
New Testament," said he, "there are three hundred dangerous, frightful
passages ... three hundred did I say? ... there are more than a
thousand!" Not satisfied with using his tongue, Lee wrote scores of
letters, and employed several secretaries. Was there any convent in
the odour of sanctity, he "forwarded to it instantly wine, choice
viands, and other presents." To each one he assigned his part, and
over all England they were rehearsing what Erasmus calls _Lee's
tragedy_.[291] In this manner they were preparing the catastrophe: a
prison for Erasmus, the fire for the Holy Scriptures.

  [289] Excipiebat advenas, præsertim Anglos, eos conviviis faciebat
  suos. (Ibid. 593.) He received strangers, especially Englishmen, and
  attached them to himself by his banquets.

  [290] Abeuntes omni mendaciorum genere dimittebat onustos. (Ibid.) He
  sent them away loaded with every kind of lies.

  [291] Donee Leus ordiretur suam _tragædiam_. (Erasm. Ep. 913.) Until
  Lee should begin his tragedy.

When all was arranged, Lee issued his manifesto. Although a poor Greek
scholar,[292] he drew up some _Annotations_ on Erasmus's book, which
the latter called "mere abuse and blasphemy;" but which the members of
the league regarded as _oracles_. They passed them secretly from hand
to hand, and these obscure sheets, by many indirect channels, found
their way into every part of England, and met with numerous
readers.[293] There was to be no publication--such was the watchword;
Lee was too much afraid. "Why did you not publish your work," asked
Erasmus, with cutting irony. "Who knows whether the holy father,
appointing you the Aristarchus of letters, might not have sent you a
birch to keep the whole world in order!"[294]

  [292] Simon, Hist. crit. du. N. Test. p. 246.

  [293] Liber volitat inter manus conjuratorum. (Erasm. Ep. p. 746.) The
  book flitted to and fro among the hands of the conspirators.

  [294] Tibi tradita virgula totius orbis censuram fuerit mandaturus.
  Ibid. p. 742.

The _Annotations_ having triumphed in the convents, the _conspiracy_
took a new flight. In every place of public resort, at fairs and
markets, at the dinner-table and in the council-chamber, in shops, and
taverns, and houses of ill-fame, in churches and in the universities,
in cottages and in palaces, the league blattered against Erasmus and
the Greek Testament.[295] Carmelites, Dominicans, and Sophists,
invoked heaven and conjured hell. What need was there of Scripture?
Had they not the apostolical succession of the clergy? No hostile
landing in England could, in their eyes, be more fatal than that of
the New Testament. The whole nation must rise to repel this impudent
invasion. There is, perhaps, no country in Europe, where the
Reformation was received by so unexpected a storm.

  [295] Ut nusquam non blaterent in Erasmum, in compotationibus, in
  foris, in conciliabulis, in pharmacopoliis, in curribus, in
  tonstrinis, in fornicibus......Ibid. p. 746.




CHAPTER II.

     Effects of the New Testament in the
     Universities--Conversations--A Cambridge Fellow--Bilney buys
     the New Testament--The first Passage--His
     Conversion--Protestantism, the Fruit of the Gospel--The Vale
     of the Severn--William Tyndale--Evangelization at
     Oxford--Bilney teaches at Cambridge--Fryth--Is Conversion
     Possible?--True Consecration--The Reformation has begun.


[Sidenote: THE NEW TESTAMENT IN THE UNIVERSITIES.]

While this rude blast was rushing over England, and roaring in the
long galleries of its convents, the still small voice of the Word was
making its way into the peaceful homes of praying men and the ancient
halls of Oxford and Cambridge. In private chambers, in the
lecture-rooms and refectories, students, and even masters of arts,
were to be seen reading the Greek and Latin Testament. Animated groups
were discussing the principles of the Reformation. When Christ came on
earth (said some) He gave the word, and when He ascended up into
heaven He gave the Holy Spirit. These are the two forces which created
the church--and these are the forces that must regenerate it.--No
(replied the partizans of Rome), it was the teaching of the apostles
at first, and it is the teaching of the priests now.--The apostles
(rejoined the friends of the Testament of Erasmus)--yes, it is
true--the apostles were during their ministry a living Scripture; but
their oral teaching would infallibly have been altered by passing from
mouth to mouth. God willed, therefore, that these precious lessons
should be preserved to us in their writings, and thus become the
ever-undefiled source of truth and salvation. To set the Scriptures in
the foremost place, as your pretended reformers are doing (replied the
schoolmen of Oxford and Cambridge); is to propagate heresy! And what
are the reformers doing (asked their apologists) except what Christ
did before them? The sayings of the prophets existed in the time of
Jesus only as _Scripture_, and it was to this written Word that our
Lord appealed when he founded his kingdom.[296] And now in like manner
the teaching of the apostles exists only as Scripture, and it is to
this written word that we appeal in order to re-establish the kingdom
of our Lord in its primitive condition. The night is far spent, the
day is at hand; all is in motion--in the lofty halls of our colleges,
in the mansions of the rich and noble, and in the lowly dwellings of
the poor. If we want to scatter the darkness, must we light the
shrivelled wick of some old lamp? Ought we not rather to open the
doors and shutters and admit freely into the house the great light
which God has placed in the heavens?

  [296] Matth. xxii. 29; xxvi. 24, 54; Mark, xiv. 49; Luke, xviii. 31;
  xxiv. 27, 44, 45; John, v. 39, 46; x. 35; xvii. 12, etc.

[Sidenote: THOMAS BILNEY.]

There was in Trinity Hall, Cambridge, a young doctor much given to the
study of the canon law, of serious turn of mind and bashful
disposition, and whose tender conscience strove, although
ineffectually, to fulfil the commandments of God. Anxious about his
salvation, Thomas Bilney applied to the priests, whom he looked upon
as physicians of the soul. Kneeling before his confessor, with humble
look and pale face, he told him all his sins, and even those of which
he doubted.[297] The priest prescribed at one time fasting, at another
prolonged vigils, and then masses and indulgences which cost him
dearly.[298] The poor doctor went through all these practices with
great devotion, but found no consolation in them. Being weak and
slender, his body wasted away by degrees;[299] his understanding grew
weaker, his imagination faded, and his purse became empty. "Alas!"
said he with anguish, "my last state is worse than the first." From
time to time an idea crossed his mind: "May not the priests be seeking
their own interest, and not the salvation of my soul."[300] But
immediately rejecting the rash doubt, he fell back under the iron hand
of the clergy.

  [297] In ignaros medicos, indoctos confessionum auditores. (Th.
  Bilnæus Tonstallo Episcopo; Foxe, iv. p. 633.) To ignorant physicians,
  unlearned confessors.

  [298] Indicebant enim mihi jejunia, vigilias, indulgentiarum et
  missarum emptiones. Ibid.

  [299] Ut parum mihi virium (alioqui natura imbecilli) reliquum fuerit.
  (Ibid.) So that being naturally weak at any rate, too little strength
  was left to me.

  [300] Sua potius quærebant quam salutem animæ meæ languentis. (Ibid.)
  They were seeking their own interest, rather than the salvation of my
  fainting soul.

[Sidenote: BEGINNING OF THE REFORMATION.]

One day Bilney heard his friends talking about a new book: it was the
Greek Testament printed with a translation which was highly praised
for its elegant Latinity.[301] Attracted by the beauty of the style
rather than by the divinity of the subject,[302] he stretched out his
hand; but just as he was going to take the volume, fear came upon him
and he withdrew it hastily. In fact the confessors strictly prohibited
Greek and Hebrew books, "the sources of all heresies;" and Erasmus's
Testament was particularly forbidden. Yet Bilney regretted so great a
sacrifice; was it not the Testament of Jesus Christ? Might not God
have placed therein some word which perhaps might heal his soul? He
stepped forward, and then again shrank back.... At last he took
courage. Urged, said he, by the hand of God, he walked out of the
college, slipped into the house where the volume was sold in secret,
bought it with fear and trembling, and then hastened back and shut
himself up in his room.[303]

  [301] Cum ab eo latinius redditum accepi. Ibid.

  [302] Latinitate potius quam verbo Dei, allectus. Ibid.

  [303] Emebam providentia (sine dubio) divina. (Foxe, iv. p. 633.) I
  bought it doubtless, under the guidance of divine providence.

He opened it--his eyes caught these words: _This is a faithful saying,
and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world
to save sinners; of whom I am chief_.[304] He laid down the book, and
meditated on the astonishing declaration. "What! St. Paul the chief of
sinners, and yet St. Paul is sure of being saved!" He read the verse
again and again. "O assertion of St. Paul, how sweet art thou to my
soul!" he exclaimed.[305] This declaration continually haunted him,
and in this manner God instructed him in the secret of his heart.[306]
He could not tell what had happened to him;[307] it seemed as if a
refreshing wind were blowing over his soul, or as if a rich treasure
had been placed in his hands. The Holy Spirit took what was Christ's,
and announced it to him. "I also am like Paul," exclaimed he with
emotion, "and more than Paul, the greatest of sinners!... But Christ
saves sinners. At last I have heard of Jesus."[308]

  [304] 1 Tim. i, 15.

  [305] O mihi suavissimam Pauli sententiam! Foxe, iv, p. 633.

  [306] Hac una sententia, Deo intus in corde meo docente. (Ibid.) By
  this one sentence, God teaching inwardly in my heart.

  [307] Quod tunc fieri ignorabam. (Ibid.) Because then I knew not what
  was being done.

  [308] Tandem de Jesu audiebam. Ibid.

His doubts were ended--he was saved. Then took place in him a
wonderful transformation. An unknown joy pervaded him;[309] his
conscience until then sore with the wounds of sin was healed;[310]
instead of despair he felt an inward peace passing all understanding.[311]
"Jesus Christ," exclaimed he, "Yes, Jesus Christ saves!"... Such is
the character of the Reformation: it is Jesus Christ who saves and not
the church. "I see it all," said Bilney; "my vigils, my fasts, my
pilgrimages, my purchase of masses and indulgences, were destroying
instead of saving me.[312] All these efforts were, as St. Augustine
says, a hasty running out of the right way."[313]

  [309] Sic exhilaravit pectus meum. Ibid.

  [310] Peccatorum conscientia saucium ac pene desperabundum. Ibid.

  [311] Nescio quantam intus tranquillitatem sentire. Ibid.

  [312] Didici omnes meos conatus, etc. Ibid.

  [313] Quod ait Augustinus, celerem cursum extra viam. Ibid.

Bilney never grew tired of reading his New Testament. He no longer
lent an attentive ear to the teaching of the schoolmen; he heard Jesus
at Capernaum, Peter in the temple, Paul on Mars' hill, and felt within
himself that Christ possesses the words of eternal life. A witness to
Jesus Christ had just been born by the same power which had
transformed Paul, Apollos, and Timothy. The Reformation of England was
beginning. Bilney was united to the Son of God, not by a remote
succession, but by an immediate generation. Leaving to the disciples
of the pope the entangled chain of their imaginary succession, whose
links it is impossible to disengage, he attached himself closely to
Christ. The word of the first century gave birth to the sixteenth.
Protestantism does not descend from the Gospel in the fiftieth
generation like the Romish church of the Council of Trent, or in the
sixtieth like some modern doctors: it is the direct legitimate
son--the son of the master.

[Sidenote: THE VALE OF THE SEVERN.]

God's action was not limited to one spot. The first rays of the sun
from on high gilded with their fires at once the gothic colleges of
Oxford and the antique schools of Cambridge.

Along the banks of the Severn extends a picturesque country, bounded
by the forest of Dean, and sprinkled with villages, steeples, and
ancient castles. In the sixteenth century it was particularly admired
by priests and friars, and a familiar oath among them was: "As sure as
God's in Glo'ster!" The papal birds of prey had swooped upon it. For
fifty years, from 1484 to 1534, four Italian bishops, placed in
succession over the diocese, had surrendered it to the pope, to the
monks, and to immorality. Thieves in particular were the objects of
the tenderest favours of the hierarchy. John de Giglis, collector of
the apostolical chamber, had received from the sovereign pontiff
authority to pardon murder and theft, on condition that the criminal
shared his profits with the pontifical commissioners.[314]

  [314] Annals of the English Bible, i. p. 12.

[Sidenote: EVANGELIZATION AT OXFORD.]

In this valley, at the foot of Stinchcomb hill, to the south-west of
Gloucester, there dwelt, during the latter half of the fifteenth
century, a family which had taken refuge there during the wars of the
Roses, and assumed the name of Hutchins. In the reign of Henry VII,
the Lancasterian party having the upper hand, they resumed their name
of Tyndale, which had been borne of yore by many noble barons.[315] In
1484, about a year after the birth of Luther, and about the time that
Zwingle first saw light in the mountains of the Tockenburg, these
partisans of the _red rose_ were blessed with a son, whom they called
William. His youth was passed in the fields surrounding his native
village of North Nibley, beneath the shadows of Berkeley Castle, or
beside the rapid waters of the Severn, and in the midst of friars and
pontifical collectors. He was sent very early to Oxford,[316] where
he learnt grammar and philosophy in the school of St. Mary Magdalene,
adjoining the college of that name. He made rapid progress,
particularly in languages, under the first classical scholars in
England--Grocyn, W. Latimer, and Linacre--and took his degrees.[317] A
more excellent master than these doctors--the Holy Spirit speaking in
Scripture--was soon to teach him a science which it is not in the
power of man to impart.

  [315] Bigland's Glo'ster, p. 293. Annals of the English Bible, i. p.
  19.

  [316] From a child. Foxe, Acts and Mon. v. p. 115.

  [317] Proceeding in degrees of the schools. Ibid.

Oxford, where Erasmus had so many friends, was the city in which his
New Testament met with the warmest welcome. The young Gloucestershire
student, inwardly impelled towards the study of sacred literature,
read the celebrated book which was then attracting the attention of
Christendom. At first he regarded it only as a work of learning, or at
most as a manual of piety, whose beauties were calculated to excite
religious feelings; but erelong he found it to be something more. The
more he read it, the more was he struck by the truth and energy of the
word. The strange book spoke to him of God, of Christ, and of
regeneration, with a simplicity and authority which completely subdued
him. William had found a master whom he had not sought at Oxford--this
was God himself. The pages he held in his hand were the divine
revelation so long mislaid. Possessing a noble soul, a bold spirit,
and indefatigable activity, he did not keep this treasure to himself.
He uttered that cry, more suited to a Christian than to Archimedes:
eurêka, _I have found it_. It was not long before several of
the younger members of the university, attracted by the purity of his
life and the charms of his conversation,[318] gathered round him, and
read with him the Greek and Latin gospels of Erasmus.[319] "A certain
well-informed young man," wrote Erasmus in a letter wherein he speaks
of the publication of his New Testament, "began to lecture with
success on Greek literature at Oxford."[320] He was probably speaking
of Tyndale.

  [318] His manners and conversation being correspondent to the
  Scriptures. Ibid.

  [319] Read privily to certain students and fellows, instructing them
  in the knowledge and truth of the Scriptures. Ibid.

  [320] Oxoniæ cum juvenis quidam non vulgariter doctus. (Erasm. Ep. p.
  346.) A certain youth at Oxford of uncommon learning.

[Sidenote: BILNEY TEACHES AT CAMBRIDGE.]

The monks took the alarm. "_A barbarian_," continues Erasmus, "entered
the pulpit and violently abused the Greek language."--"These folk,"
said Tyndale, "wished to extinguish the light which exposed their
trickery, and they have been laying their plans these dozen
years."[321] This observation was made in 1531, and refers therefore
to the proceedings of 1517. Germany and England were beginning the
struggle at nearly the same time, and Oxford perhaps before
Wittemberg. Tyndale, bearing in mind the injunction: "When they
persecute you in one city, flee ye into another," left Oxford and
proceeded to Cambridge. It must needs be that souls whom God has
brought to his knowledge should meet and enlighten one another: live
coals, when separated, go out; when gathered together, they brighten
up, so as even to purify silver and gold. The Romish hierarchy, not
knowing what they did, were collecting the scattered brands of the
Reformation.

  [321] Which they have been in brewing as I hear this dozen years.
  Tyndale's Expositions (Park. Soc.) p. 225

Bilney was not inactive at Cambridge. Not long had the "sublime lesson
of Jesus Christ" filled him with joy, before he fell on his knees and
exclaimed: "O Thou who art the truth, give me strength that I may
teach it; and convert the ungodly by means of one who has been ungodly
himself."[322] After this prayer his eyes gleamed with new fire; he
had assembled his friends, and opening Erasmus's Testament, had placed
his finger on the words that had reached his soul, and these words had
touched many. The arrival of Tyndale gave him fresh courage, and the
light burnt brighter in Cambridge.

  [322] Ut impii ad ipsum per me olim impium converterentur. (Foxe,
  Acts, iv, p. 633.) That the ungodly may be converted to thyself
  through me, once ungodly.

John Fryth, a young man of eighteen, the son of an innkeeper of
Sevenoaks in Kent, was distinguished among the students of King's
College, by the promptitude of his understanding and the integrity of
his life. He was as deeply read in the mathematics as Tyndale in the
classics, and Bilney in canon law. Although of an exact turn of mind,
yet his soul was elevated, and he recognised in Holy Scripture a
learning of a new kind. "These things are not demonstrated like a
proposition of Euclid," he said; "mere study is sufficient to impress
the theories of mathematics on our minds; but this science of God
meets with a resistance in man that necessitates the intervention of a
divine power. Christianity is a regeneration." The heavenly seed soon
grew up in Fryth's heart.[323]

  [323] Through Tyndale's instructions he first received into his heart
  the seed of the Gospel. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 4.

These three young scholars set to work with enthusiasm. They declared
that neither priestly absolution nor any other religious rite could
give remission of sins; that the assurance of pardon is obtained by
faith alone; and that faith purifies the heart. Then they addressed to
all men that saying of Christ's at which the monks were so offended:
_Repent and be converted!_

[Sidenote: CHRIST COMETH.]

Ideas so new produced a great clamour. A famous orator undertook one
day at Cambridge to show that it was useless to preach conversion to
the sinner. "Thou, who, for sixty years past," said he, "hast wallowed
in thy lusts, like a sow in her mire,[324] dost thou think that thou
canst in one year take as many steps towards heaven, and that in thine
age, as thou hast done towards hell?" Bilney left the church with
indignation. "Is that preaching repentance in the name of Jesus?" he
asked. "Does not this priest tell us: Christ will not save thee.[325]
Alas! for so many years that this deadly doctrine has been taught in
Christendom, not one man has dared open his mouth against it!" Many of
the Cambridge fellows were scandalized at Bilney's language: was not
the preacher whose teaching he condemned duly _ordained_ by the
bishop? He replied: "What would be the use of being a hundred times
consecrated, were it even by a thousand papal bulls, if the inward
calling is wanting?[326] To no purpose hath the bishop breathed on our
heads if we have never felt the breath of the Holy Ghost in our
hearts?" Thus, at the very beginning of the Reformation, England,
rejecting the Romish superstitions, discerned with extreme nicety what
constitutes the essence of consecration to the service of the Lord.

  [324] Even as a beast in his own dung. Bilnæus Tonstallo episcopo;
  Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 640.

  [325] He will not be thy Jesus or Saviour. Ibid.

  [326] Without this inward calling it helpeth nothing before God to be
  a hundred times elect and consecrated. Ibid. p. 638.

After pronouncing these noble words, Bilney, who longed for an
outpouring of the Holy Ghost, shut himself up in his room, fell on his
knees, and called upon God to come to the assistance of his church.
Then rising up, he exclaimed, as if animated by a prophetic spirit: "A
new time is beginning. The Christian assembly is about to be
renewed.... Some one is coming unto us, I see him, I hear him--it is
Jesus Christ.[327]... He is the king, and it is he who will call the
true ministers commissioned to evangelize his people."

  [327] If it be Christ, him that cometh unto us. Ibid. p. 637.

Tyndale, full of the same hopes as Bilney, left Cambridge in the
course of the year 1519.

Thus the English Reformation began independently of those of Luther
and Zwingle--deriving its origin from God alone. In every province of
Christendom there was a simultaneous action of the divine word. The
principle of the Reformation at Oxford, Cambridge, and London was the
_Greek New Testament_, published by Erasmus. England, in course of
time learnt to be proud of this origin of its Reformation.




CHAPTER III.

     Alarm of the Clergy--The Two Days--Thomas Man's
     Preaching--True real Presence--Persecutions at
     Coventry--Standish preaches at St. Paul's--His Petition to
     the King and Queen--His Arguments and Defeat--Wolsey's
     Ambition--First Overtures--Henry and Francis Candidates for
     the Empire--Conference between Francis I and Sir T.
     Boleyn--The Tiara promised to Wolsey--The Cardinal's
     Intrigues with Charles and Francis.


[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE CLERGY.]

This revival caused great alarm throughout the Roman hierarchy.
Content with the baptism they administered, they feared the baptism of
the Holy Ghost perfected by faith in the word of God. Some of the
clergy, who were full of zeal, but of zeal without knowledge, prepared
for the struggle, and the cries raised by the prelates were repeated
by all the inferior orders.

The first blows did not fall on the members of the universities, but
on those humble Christians, the relics of Wickliffe's ministry, to
whom the reform movement among the learned had imparted a new life.
The awakening of the fourteenth century was about to be succeeded by
that of the sixteenth, and the last gleams of the closing day were
almost lost in the first rays of that which was commencing. The young
doctors of Oxford and Cambridge aroused the attention of the alarmed
hierarchy, and attracted their eyes to the humble Lollards, who here
and there still recalled the days of Wickliffe.

[Sidenote: THE COVENTRY MARTYRS.]

An artisan named Thomas Man, sometimes called Doctor Man, from his
knowledge of Holy Scripture, had been imprisoned for his faith in the
priory of Frideswide at Oxford (1511 A. D.) Tormented by the
remembrance of a recantation which had been extorted from him, he had
escaped from this monastery and fled into the eastern parts of
England, where he had preached the Word, supplying his daily wants by
the labour of his hands.[328] This "champion of God" afterwards drew
near the capital, and assisted by his wife, the new Priscilla of this
new Aquila, he proclaimed the doctrine of Christ to the crowd
collected around him in some "upper chamber" of London, or in some
lonely meadow watered by the Thames, or under the aged oaks of Windsor
Forest. He thought with Chrysostom of old, that "all priests are not
saints, but all saints are priests."[329] "He that receiveth the word
of God," said he, "receiveth God himself, that is the true _real
presence_. The vendors of masses are not the high-priests of this
mystery;[330] but the men whom God hath _anointed with his Spirit_ to
be kings and priests." From six to seven hundred persons were
converted by his preaching.[331]

  [328] Work thereby to sustain his poor life. Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 209.

  [329] Chrysostom, 43 Homily on Matth.

  [330] He called them _pilled knaves_. Foxe. iv, p. 209.

  [331] Ibid. p. 211.

The monks who dared not as yet attack the universities, resolved to
fall upon those preachers who made their temple on the banks of the
Thames, or in some remote corner of the city. Man was seized,
condemned, and burnt alive on the 29th March 1519.

And this was not all. There lived at Coventry a little band of serious
Christians--four shoemakers, a glover, a hosier, and a widow named
Smith--who gave their children a pious education. The Franciscans were
annoyed that _laymen_, and even a _woman_, should dare meddle with
religious instruction. On Ash Wednesday (1519) Simon Morton, the
bishop's sumner, apprehended them all, men, women, and children. On
the following Friday, the parents were taken to the Abbey of
Mackstock, about six miles from Coventry, and the children to the Grey
Friar's convent. "Let us see what heresies you have been taught?" said
Friar Stafford to the intimidated little ones. The poor children
confessed they had been taught in English the Lord's prayer, the
apostles' creed, and the ten commandments. On hearing this, Stafford
told them angrily: "I forbid you, (unless you wish to be burnt as your
parents will be,) to have any thing to do with the _Pater_, the
_credo_, or the ten commandments _in English_."

Five weeks after this, the men were condemned to be burnt alive, but
the judges had compassion on the widow, because of her young family
(for she was their only support,) and let her go. It was night: Morton
offered to see Dame Smith home; she took his arm, and they threaded
the dark and narrow streets of Coventry. "Eh, eh!" said the apparitor,
on a sudden, "what have we here?" He heard in fact the noise of paper
rubbing against something. "What have you got there?" he continued,
dropping her arm, and putting his hand up her sleeve, from which he
drew out a parchment. Approaching a window whence issued the faint
rays of a lamp, he examined the mysterious scroll, and found it to
contain the Lord's prayer, the apostles' creed, and the ten
commandments _in English_. "Oh, oh! sirrah!" said he; "come along. As
good now as another time!"[332] Then seizing the poor widow by the
arm, he dragged her before the bishop. Sentence of death was
immediately pronounced on her, and on the 4th of April, Dame Smith,
Robert Hatchets, Archer, Hawkins, Thomas Bond, Wrigsham, and
Landsdale, were burnt alive at Coventry in the Little Park, for the
crime of teaching their children the Lord's prayer, the apostles'
creed, and the commandments of God.

  [332] Ibid. p. 357.

[Sidenote: STANDISH AT ST. PAUL'S.]

But what availed it to silence these obscure lips, so long as the
Testament of Erasmus could speak? Lee's conspiracy must be revived.
Standish, bishop of St. Asaph, was a narrow-minded man, rather
fanatical, but probably sincere, of great courage, and not without
some degree of piety. This prelate, being determined to preach a
crusade against the New Testament, began at London, in St. Paul's
cathedral, before the mayor and corporation. "Away with these new
translations," he said, "or else the religion of Jesus Christ is
threatened with utter ruin."[333] But Standish was deficient in tact,
and instead of confining himself to general statements, like most of
his party, he endeavoured to show how far Erasmus had corrupted the
Gospel, and continued thus in a whining voice: "Must I who for so many
years have been a doctor of the Holy Scriptures, and who have always
read in my Bible: _In principio erat_ VERBUM,--must I now be obliged
to read: _In principio erat_ SERMO," for thus had Erasmus translated
the opening words of St. John's Gospel. _Risum teneatis_, whispered
one to another, when they heard this puerile charge: "My lord,"
proceeded the bishop, turning to the mayor, "magistrates of the city,
and citizens all, fly to the succour of religion!" Standish continued
his pathetic appeals, but his oratory was all in vain; some stood
unmoved, others shrugged their shoulders, and others grew impatient.
The citizens of London seemed determined to support liberty and the
Bible.

  [333] Imminere christianæ religionis [Greek word], nisi
  novae translationes omnes subito de medio tollerentur. (Erasm. Ep.
  p. 596.) That destruction threatened the Christian religion,
  unless all new translations were at once taken away from amongst
  them.

[Sidenote: A DISCUSSION.]

Standish, seeing the failure of his attack in the city, sighed and
groaned and prayed, and repeated mass against the so much dreaded
book. But he also made up his mind to do more. One day, during the
rejoicings at court for the betrothal of the Princess Mary, then two
years old, with a French prince who was just born, St. Asaph, absorbed
and absent in the midst of the gay crowd, meditated a bold step.
Suddenly he made his way through the crowd, and threw himself at the
feet of the king and queen. All were thunder-struck, and asked one
another what the old bishop could mean. "Great king," said he, "your
ancestors who have reigned over this island,--and yours, O great
queen, who have governed Aragon, were always distinguished by their
zeal for the church. Show yourselves worthy of your forefathers. Times
full of danger are come upon us,[334] a book has just appeared, and
been published too, by Erasmus! It is such a book that, if you close
not your kingdom against it, it is all over with the religion of
Christ among us."

  [334] Adesse tempora longe periculosissima. Erasm. Ep. p. 597.

The bishop ceased, and a dead silence ensued. The devout Standish,
fearing lest Henry's well-known love of learning should be an obstacle
to his prayer, raised his eyes and his hands toward heaven, and
kneeling in the midst of the courtly assembly, exclaimed in a
sorrowful tone: "O Christ! O Son of God! save thy spouse! ... for no
man cometh to her help."[335]

  [335] Cæpit obsecrare Christum dignaretur ipse suæ sponsæ opitulari.
  (Ibid. p. 598.) He began to implore Christ, that he himself would
  deign to succour his spouse.

Having thus spoken, the prelate, whose courage was worthy of a better
cause, rose up and waited. Every one strove to guess at the king's
thoughts. Sir Thomas More was present, and he could not forsake his
friend Erasmus. "What are the heresies this book is likely to
engender?" he inquired. After the sublime came the ridiculous. With
the forefinger of his right hand, touching successively the fingers of
his left,[336] Standish replied: "First, this book destroys _the
resurrection_; secondly, it annuls the _sacrament of marriage_;
thirdly, it abolishes _the mass_." Then uplifting his thumb and two
fingers, he showed them to the assembly with a look of triumph. The
bigoted Catherine shuddered as she saw Standish's three
fingers,--signs of the three heresies of Erasmus; and Henry himself,
an admirer of Aquinas, was embarrassed. It was a critical moment: the
Greek Testament was on the point of being banished from England. "The
proof, the proof," exclaimed the friends of literature. "I will give
it," rejoined the impetuous Standish, and then once more touching his
left thumb: "Firstly," he said, ... But he brought forward such
foolish reasons, that even the women and the unlearned were ashamed of
them. The more he endeavoured to justify his assertions, the more
confused he became: he affirmed among other things that the Epistles
of St. Paul were written in _Hebrew_. "There is not a schoolboy that
does not know that Paul's epistles were written in _Greek_," said a
doctor of divinity kneeling before the king. Henry, blushing for the
bishop, turned the conversation, and Standish, ashamed at having made
a Greek write to the Greeks in Hebrew, would have withdrawn
unobserved. "The beetle must not attack the eagle,"[337] was whispered
in his ear. Thus did the book of God remain in England the standard of
a faithful band, who found in its pages the motto, which the church of
Rome had usurped: _The truth is in me alone_.

  [336] Et rem in digitos porrectos dispartiens. (Ibid.) And
  distributing the charge on his outstretched fingers.

  [337] Scarabæus ille qui maximo suo malo aquilam quæsivit. (Erasm. Ep.
  p. 555.) That beetle who sought to do the worst he could to the eagle.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S AMBITION.]

A more formidable adversary than Standish aspired to combat the
Reformation, not only in England, but in all the West. One of those
ambitious designs, which easily germinate in the human heart,
developed itself in the soul of the chief minister of Henry VIII; and
if this project succeeded, it promised to secure for ever the empire
of the papacy on the banks of the Thames, and perhaps in the whole of
Christendom.

Wolsey, as chancellor and legate, governed both in state and in
church, and could, without an untruth, utter his famous _Ego et rex
meus_. Having reached so great a height, he desired to soar still
higher. The favourite of Henry VIII, almost his master, treated as a
brother by the emperor, by the king of France, and by other crowned
heads, invested with the title of Majesty, the peculiar property of
sovereigns,[338] the cardinal, sincere in his faith in the popedom,
aspired to fill the throne of the pontiffs, and thus become _Deus in
terris_. He thought, that if God permitted a Luther to appear in the
world, it was because he had a Wolsey to oppose to him.

  [338] Consultissima tua Majestas. Vestra sublimis et longe
  reverendissima, Majestas, etc. Fiddes, Bodleian Papers, p. 178.

It would be difficult to fix the precise moment when this immoderate
desire entered his mind: it was about the end of 1518 that it began to
show itself. The bishop of Ely, ambassador at the court of Francis I,
being in conference with that prince on the 18th of December in that
year, said to him mysteriously: "The cardinal has an idea in his mind
... on which he can unbosom himself to nobody ... except it be to your
majesty." Francis understood him.

[Sidenote: AMBITION OF FRANCIS I.]

An event occurred to facilitate the cardinal's plans. If Wolsey
desired to be the first priest, Henry desired to be the first king.
The imperial crown, vacant by the death of Maximilian, was sought by
two princes:--by Charles of Austria, a cold and calculating man,
caring little about the pleasures and even the pomp of power, but
forming great designs, and knowing how to pursue them with energy; and
by Francis I, a man of less penetrating glance and less indefatigable
activity, but more daring and impetuous. Henry VIII, inferior to both,
passionate, capricious, and selfish, thought himself strong enough to
contend with such puissant competitors, and secretly strove to win
"the monarchy of all Christendom."[339] Wolsey flattered himself that,
hidden under the cloak of his master's ambition, he might satisfy his
own. If he procured the crown of the Cæsars for Henry, he might easily
obtain the tiara of the popes for himself; if he failed, the least
that could be done to compensate England for the loss of the empire,
would be to give the sovereignty of the church to her prime minister.

  [339] Cotton MSS. Brit. Mus. Calig. D. 7, p. 88.

Henry first sounded the king of France. Sir Thomas Boleyn appeared one
day before Francis I just as the latter was returning from mass. The
king, desirous to anticipate a confidence that might be embarrassing,
took the ambassador aside to the window and whispered to him: "Some of
the electors have offered me the empire; I hope your master will be
favourable to me." Sir Thomas, in confusion, made some vague reply,
and the chivalrous king, following up his idea, took the ambassador
firmly by one hand, and laying the other on his breast,[340]
exclaimed: "By my faith, if I become emperor, in three years I shall
be in Constantinople, or I shall die on the road!" This was not what
Henry wanted; but dissembling his wishes, he took care to inform
Francis that he would support his candidature. Upon hearing this
Francis raised his hat and exclaimed: "I desire to see the king of
England; I will see him, I tell you, even if I go to London with only
one page and one lackey."

  [340] He took me hard by the wrist with one hand, and laid the other
  upon his breast. Ibid. D. 8, p. 93.

Francis was well aware that if he threatened the king's ambition, he
must flatter the minister's, and recollecting the hint given by the
bishop of Ely, he said one day to Boleyn: "It seems to me that my
brother of England and I could do, indeed ought to do ... something
for the cardinal. He was prepared by God for the good of Christendom
... one of the greatest men in the church ... and on the word of a
king, if he consents, I will do it." A few minutes after he continued:
"Write and tell the cardinal, that if he aspires to be the head of the
church, and if any thing should happen to the reigning pope, I will
promise him fourteen cardinals on my part.[341] Let us only act in
concert, your master and me, and I promise you, Mr. Ambassador, that
neither pope nor emperor shall be created in Europe without our
consent."

  [341] He will assure you full fourteen cardinals for him. Ibid. D. F.
  p. 98.

[Sidenote: THE CARDINAL'S PRACTICES.]

But Henry did not act in concert with the king of France. At Wolsey's
instigation he supported three candidates at once: at Paris he was
for Francis I; at Madrid for Charles V; and at Frankfort for himself.
The kings of France and England failed, and on the 10th August, Pace,
Henry's envoy at Frankfort, having returned to England, desired to
console the king by mentioning the sums of money which Charles had
spent. "By the mass!"[342] exclaimed the king, congratulating himself
at not having obtained the crown at so dear a rate. Wolsey proposed to
sing a _Te Deum_ in St. Paul's, and bonfires were lighted in the city.

  [342] Bi the messe! State Papers, i. 9.

The cardinal's rejoicings were not misplaced. Charles had scarcely
ascended the imperial throne, in despite of the king of France, when
these two princes swore eternal hatred of each other, and each was
anxious to win over Henry VIII. At one time Charles, under the
pretence of seeing his uncle and aunt, visited England; at another,
Francis had an interview with the king in the neighbourhood of Calais.
The cardinal shared in the flattering attentions of the two monarchs.
"It is easy for the king of Spain, who has become the head of the
empire, to raise whomsoever he pleases to the supreme pontificate,"
said the young emperor to him; and at these words the ambitious
cardinal surrendered himself to Maximilian's successor. But erelong
Francis I flattered him in his turn, and Wolsey replied also to his
advances. The king of France gave Henry tournaments and banquets of
Asiatic luxury; and Wolsey, whose countenance yet bore the marks of
the graceful smile with which he had taken leave of Charles, smiled
also on Francis, and sang mass in his honour. He engaged the hand of
the Princess Mary to the dauphin of France and to Charles V, leaving
the care of unravelling the matter to futurity. Then proud of his
skilful practices he returned to London full of hope. By walking in
falsehood he hoped to attain the tiara: and if it was yet too far
above him, there were certain _gospellers_ in England who might serve
as a ladder to reach it. Murder might serve as the complement to
fraud.




CHAPTER IV.

     Tyndale--Sodbury Hall--Sir John and Lady
     Walsh--Table-Talk--The Holy Scriptures--The images--The
     Anchor of Faith--A Roman Camp--Preaching of Faith and
     Works--Tyndale accused by the Priests--They tear up what he
     has planted--Tyndale resolves to translate the Bible--His
     first triumph--The Priests in the taverns--Tyndale summoned
     before the Chancellor of Worcester--Consoled by an aged
     Doctor--Attacked by a schoolman--His Secret becomes
     known--He leaves Sodbury Hall.


[Sidenote: TYNDALE.]

Whilst this ambitious prelate was thinking of nothing but his own
glory and that of the Roman pontificate, a great desire, but of a very
different nature, was springing up in the heart of one of the humble
"gospellers" of England. If Wolsey had his eyes fixed on the throne of
the popedom in order to seat himself there, Tyndale thought of raising
up the true throne of the church by re-establishing the legitimate
sovereignty of the word of God. The Greek Testament of Erasmus had
been one step; and it now became necessary to place before the simple
what the king of the schools had given to the learned. This idea,
which pursued the young Oxford doctor everywhere, was to be the mighty
mainspring of the English Reformation.

On the slope of Sodbury hill there stood a plain but large mansion
commanding an extensive view over the beautiful vale of the Severn
where Tyndale was born. It was inhabited by a family of gentle birth:
Sir John Walsh had shone in the tournaments of the court, and by this
means conciliated the favour of his prince. He kept open table; and
gentlemen, deans, abbots, archdeacons, doctors of divinity, and fat
rectors, charmed by Sir John's cordial welcome and by his good
dinners, were ever at his house. The former brother at arms of Henry
VIII felt an interest in the questions then discussing throughout
Christendom. Lady Walsh herself, a sensible and generous woman, lost
not a word of the animated conversation of her guests, and discreetly
tried to incline the balance to the side of truth.[343]

  [343] Lady Walsh, a stout and wise woman. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 115.

[Sidenote: TABLE-TALK AT SODBURY.]

Tyndale after leaving Oxford and Cambridge had returned to the home of
his fathers. Sir John had requested him to educate his children, and
he had accepted. William was then in the prime of life (he was about
thirty-six), well instructed in Scripture, and full of desire to show
forth the light which God had given him. Opportunities were not
wanting. Seated at table with all the doctors welcomed by Sir
John,[344] Tyndale entered into conversation with them. They talked of
the learned men of the day--of Erasmus much, and sometimes of Luther,
who was beginning to astonish England.[345] They discussed several
questions touching the holy Scriptures, and sundry points of theology.
Tyndale expressed his convictions with admirable clearness, supported
them with great learning, and kept his ground against all with
unbending courage. These animated conversations in the vale of the
Severn are one of the essential features of the picture presented by
the Reformation in this country. The historians of antiquity invented
the speeches which they have put into the mouths of their heroes. In
our times history, without inventing, should make us acquainted with
the sentiments of the persons of whom it treats. It is sufficient to
read Tyndale's works to form some idea of these conversations. It is
from his writings that the following discussion has been drawn.

  [344] Who were together with Master Tyndale sitting at the same table.
  Foxe, Acts, v. p. 115.

  [345] Talk of learned men, as of Luther and Erasmus, etc. Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.]

In the dining-room of the old hall a varied group was assembled round
the hospitable table. There were Sir John and Lady Walsh, a few
gentlemen of the neighbourhood, with several abbots, deans, monks, and
doctors, in their respective costumes. Tyndale occupied the humblest
place, and generally kept Erasmus's New Testament within reach in
order to prove what he advanced.[346] Numerous domestics were moving
about engaged in waiting on the guests; and at length the
conversation, after wandering a little, took a more precise direction.
The priests grew impatient when they saw the terrible volume appear.
"Your Scriptures only serve to make heretics," they exclaimed. "On the
contrary," replied Tyndale, "the source of all heresies is _pride_;
now the word of God strips man of everything, and leaves him as bare
as Job."[347]--"_The word of God!_ why even _we_ don't understand your
word, how can the _vulgar_ understand it?"--"You do not understand
it," rejoined Tyndale, "because you look into it only for foolish
questions, as you would into _our Lady's Matins_, or _Merlin's
Prophecies_.[348] Now the Scriptures are a clue which we must follow,
without turning aside, until we arrive at Christ;[349] for Christ is
the end."--"And I tell you," shouted out a priest, "that the
Scriptures are a Dædalian labyrinth, rather than Ariadne's clue--a
conjuring book wherein everybody finds what he wants."--"Alas!"
replied Tyndale; "you read them without Jesus Christ; that's why they
are an obscure book to you. What do I say? a den of thorns where you
only escape from the briers to be caught by the brambles."[350] "No!"
exclaimed another clerk, heedless of contradicting his colleague,
"nothing is obscure to us; it is we who give the Scriptures, and we
who explain them to you."--"You would lose both your time and your
trouble," said Tyndale; "do you know who taught the eagles to find
their prey?[351] Well, that same God teaches his hungry children to
find their Father in his word. Far from having given us the
Scriptures, it is you who have hidden them from us; it is you who burn
those who teach them, and if you could, you would burn the Scriptures
themselves."

  [346] When they at any time did vary from Tyndale in opinions and
  judgment, he would show them in the book. Ibid.

  [347] Tyndale, Expositions. (Park. Soc.) p. 140.

  [348] Tyndale, Expositions. (Park. Soc.) p. 141.

  [349] So along by the Scripture as by a line until thou come at
  Christ. Tynd. Works, i. 354 (ed. Russell).

  [350] A grave of briers; If thou loose thyself in one place thou art
  caught in another. Tyndale, Expositions, p. 5.

  [351] Ibid. Answer to More (Park. Soc.) p. 49.

Tyndale was not satisfied with merely laying down the great principles
of faith: he alway sought after what he calls "the sweet marrow
within;" but to the divine unction he added no little humour, and
unmercifully ridiculed the superstitions of his adversaries. "You set
candles before images," he said to them; "and since you give them
_light_, why don't you give them _food_. Why don't you make their
bellies hollow, and put victuals and drink inside.[352] To serve God
by such mummeries is treating him like a spoilt child, whom you pacify
with a toy or with a horse made of a stick."[353]

  [352] Make a hollow belly in the image. Ibid. p. 81.

  [353] Make him a horse of a stick. Tyndale's Wks. (ed. Russell) ii.
  475.

But the learned Christian soon returned to more serious thoughts; and
when his adversaries extolled the papacy as the power that would save
the church in the tempest, he replied: "Let us only take on board the
anchor of faith, after having dipped it in the blood of Christ,[354]
and when the storm bursts upon us, let us boldly cast the anchor into
the sea; then you may be sure the ship will remain safe on the great
waters." And, in fine, if his opponents rejected any doctrine of the
truth, Tyndale (says the chronicler) opening his Testament would set
his finger on the verse which refuted the Romish error, and exclaim:
"Look and read."[355]

  [354] Ibid. Expositions, (Park. Soc.) p. 15.

  [355] And lay plainly before them the open and manifest places of the
  Scriptures, to confute their errors and confirm his sayings. Foxe,
  Acts, v. p. 115.

[Sidenote: SERMONS AT ST. ADELINE'S.]

The beginnings of the English Reformation are not to be found, as we
have seen, in a material ecclesiasticism, which has been decorated
with the name of _English Catholicism:_ they are essentially
spiritual. The Divine Word, the creator of the new life in the
individual, is also the founder and reformer of the church. The
reformed churches, and particularly the reformed churches of Great
Britain, belong to evangelism.

The contemplation of God's works refreshed Tyndale after the
discussions he had to maintain at his patron's table. He would often
ramble to the top of Sodbury hill, and there repose amidst the ruins
of an ancient Roman camp which crowned the summit. It was here that
Queen Margaret of Anjou halted; and here too rested Edward IV, who
pursued her, before the fatal battle of Tewkesbury, which caused this
princess to fall into the hands of the White Rose. Amidst these ruins,
monuments of the Roman invasion and of the civil dissensions of
England, Tyndale meditated upon other battles, which were to restore
liberty and truth to Christendom. Then rousing himself he would
descend the hill, and courageously resume his task.

Behind the mansion stood a little church, overshadowed by two large
yew trees, and dedicated to Saint Adeline. On Sundays Tyndale used to
preach there, Sir John and Lady Walsh, with the eldest of the
children, occupying the manorial pew. This humble sanctuary was filled
by their household and tenantry, listening attentively to the words of
their teacher, which fell from his lips like _the waters of Shiloah
that go softly_. Tyndale was very lively in conversation; but he
explained the Scriptures with so much unction, says the chronicler,
"that his hearers thought they heard St. John himself." If he
resembled John in the mildness of his language, he resembled Paul in
the strength of his doctrine. "According to the pope," he said, "we
must first be good after his doctrine, and compel God to be good again
for our goodness. Nay, verily, God's goodness is the root of all
goodness. Antichrist turneth the tree of salvation topsy-turvy:[356]
he planteth the branches, and setteth the roots upwards. We must put
it straight......As the husband marrieth the wife, before he can have
any lawful children by her; even so faith justifieth us to make us
fruitful in good works.[357] But neither the one nor the other should
remain barren. Faith is the holy candle wherewith we must bless
ourselves at the last hour; without it, you will go astray in the
valley of the shadow of death, though you had a thousand tapers
lighted around your bed."[358]

  [356] Antichrist turneth the roots of the trees upward. Tyndale,
  Doctrinal Treatises (Park. Soc.), p. 295.

  [357] Tyndale, Parable of the Wicked Mammon. Ibid. 126.

  [358] Though thou hadst a thousand holy candles about thee. Ibid. p.
  48.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE THWARTED BY THE PRIESTS.]

The priests, irritated at such observations, determined to ruin
Tyndale, and some of them invited Sir John and his lady to an
entertainment, at which he was not present. During dinner, they so
abused the young doctor and his New Testament, that his patrons
retired greatly annoyed that their tutor should have made so many
enemies. They told him all they had heard, and Tyndale successfully
refuted his adversaries' arguments. "What!" exclaimed Lady Walsh,
"there are some of these doctors worth one hundred, some two hundred,
and some three hundred pounds[359] ... and were it reason, think you,
Master William, that we should believe you before them?" Tyndale,
opening the New Testament, replied: "No! it is not me you should
believe. That is what the priests have told you; but look here, St.
Peter, St. Paul, and the Lord himself say quite the contrary."[360]
The Word of God was there, positive and supreme: the sword of the
spirit cut the difficulty.

  [359] Well, there was such a doctor who may dispend a hundred pounds.
  Foxe. Acts, v. p. 115.

  [360] Answering by the Scriptures maintained the truth. Ibid.

Before long the manor-house and St. Adeline's church became too narrow
for Tyndale's zeal. He preached every Sunday, sometimes in a village,
sometimes in a town. The inhabitants of Bristol assembled to hear him
in a large meadow, called St. Austin's Green.[361] But no sooner had
he preached in any place than the priests hastened thither, tore up
what he had planted,[362] called him a heretic, and threatened to
expel from the church every one who dared listen to him. When Tyndale
returned he found the field laid waste by the enemy; and looking sadly
upon it, as the husbandman who sees his corn beaten down by the hail,
and his rich furrows turned into a barren waste, he exclaimed: "What
is to be done? While I am sowing in one place, the enemy ravages the
field I have just left. I cannot be everywhere. Oh! if Christians
possessed the Holy Scriptures in their own tongue, they could of
themselves withstand these sophists. Without the Bible it is
impossible to establish the laity in the truth."[363]

  [361] Ibid. p. 117.

  [362] Whatsoever truth is taught them, these enemies of all truth
  quench it again. Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 394.

  [363] impossible to establish the lay people in any truth, except the
  Scripture were plainly laid before their eyes in their mother-tongue.
  Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE PRIESTS IN THE ALEHOUSES.]

Then a great idea sprang up in Tyndale's heart: "It was in the
language of Israel," said he, "that the Psalms were sung in the temple
of Jehovah; and shall not the Gospel speak the language of England
among us?... Ought the church to have less light at noonday than at
the dawn?... Christians must read the New Testament in their
mother-tongue." Tyndale believed that this idea proceeded from God.
The new sun would lead to the discovery of a new world, and the
infallible rule would make all human diversities give way to a divine
unity. "One holdeth this doctor, another that," said Tyndale, "one
followeth Duns Scotus, another St. Thomas, another Bonaventure,
Alexander Hales, Raymond of Penaford, Lyra, Gorram, Hugh de Sancto
Victore, and so many others besides.... Now, each of these authors
contradicts the other. How then can we distinguish him who says right
from him who says wrong?... How?... Verily, by God's word."[364]
Tyndale hesitated no longer.... While Wolsey sought to win the papal
tiara, the humble tutor of Sodbury undertook to place the torch of
heaven in the midst of his fellow-countrymen. The translation of the
Bible shall be the work of his life.

  [364] Tynd. Doct. Tr. p. 119.

The first triumph of the word was a revolution in the manor-house. In
proportion as Sir John and Lady Walsh acquired a taste for the Gospel,
they became disgusted with the priests. The clergy were not so often
invited to Sodbury, nor did they meet with the same welcome.[365] They
soon discontinued their visits, and thought of nothing but how they
could drive Tyndale from the mansion and from the diocese.

  [365] Neither had they the cheer and countenance when they came, as
  before they had. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 1.6.

Unwilling to compromise themselves in this warfare, they sent forward
some of those light troops which the church has always at her
disposal. Mendicant friars and poor curates, who could hardly
understand their missal, and the most learned of whom made _Albertus
de secretis mulierum_ their habitual study, fell upon Tyndale like a
pack of hungry hounds. They trooped to the alehouses,[366] and calling
for a jug of beer, took their seats, one at one table, another at
another. They invited the peasantry to drink with them, and entering
into conversation with them, poured forth a thousand curses upon the
daring reformer: "He's a hypocrite," said one; "he's a heretic," said
another. The most skilful among them would mount upon a stool, and
turning the tavern into a temple, deliver, for the first time in his
life, an extemporaneous discourse. They reported words that Tyndale
had never uttered, and actions that he had never committed.[367]
Rushing upon the poor tutor (he himself informs us) "like unclean
swine that follow their carnal lusts,"[368] they tore his good name to
very tatters, and shared the spoil among them; while the audience,
excited by their calumnies and heated by the beer, departed
overflowing with rage and hatred against the heretic of Sodbury.

  [366] Come together to the alehouse, which is their preaching place.
  Tynd. Doct. Tr. 394

  [367] They add too of their own heads what I never spake. Ibid. p.
  395.

  [368] Ibid. Expositions, p. 10.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE CITED BEFORE THE CHANCELLOR.]

After the monks came the dignitaries. The deans and abbots, Sir John's
former guests, accused Tyndale to the chancellor of the diocese,[369]
and the storm which had begun in the tavern burst forth in the
episcopal palace.

  [369] Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. 395.

The titular bishop of Worcester (an appanage of the Italian prelates)
was Giulio de' Medici, a learned man, great politician, and crafty
priest, who already governed the popedom without being pope.[370]
Wolsey, who administered the diocese for his absent colleague, had
appointed Thomas Parker chancellor, a man devoted to the Roman church.
It was to him the churchmen made their complaint. A judicial inquiry
had its difficulties; the king's companion-at-arms was the patron of
the pretended heretic, and Sir Anthony Poyntz, Lady Walsh's brother,
was sheriff of the county. The chancellor was therefore content to
convoke a general conference of the clergy. Tyndale obeyed the
summons, but foreseeing what awaited him, he cried heartily to God, as
he pursued his way up the banks of the Severn, "to give him strength
to stand fast in the truth of his word."[371]

  [370] Governava il papato e havia piu zente a la sua audienzia che il
  papa. (He governed the popedom, and had more people at his audiences
  than the pope.) Relazione di Marco Foscari, 1526.

  [371] Foxe, Acts. v. p. 116.

When they were assembled, the abbots and deans, and other
ecclesiastics of the diocese, with haughty heads and threatening
looks, crowded round the humble but unbending Tyndale. When his turn
arrived, he stood forward, and the chancellor administered him a
severe reprimand, to which he made a calm reply. This so exasperated
the chancellor, that, giving way to his passion, he treated Tyndale as
if he had been a dog.[372] "Where are your witnesses?" demanded the
latter. "Let them come forward, and I will answer them." Not one of
them dared support the charge--they looked another way. The chancellor
waited, one witness at least he must have, but he could not get
that.[373] Annoyed at this desertion of the priests, the
representative of the Medici became more equitable, and let the
accusation drop. Tyndale quietly returned to Sodbury, blessing God who
had saved him from the cruel hands of his adversaries,[374] and
entertaining nothing but the tenderest charity towards them. "Take
away my goods," he said to them one day, "take away my good name! yet
so long as Christ dwelleth in my heart, so long shall I love you not a
whit the less."[375] Here indeed is the Saint John to whom Tyndale has
been compared.

  [372] He threatened me grievously and reviled me, and rated me as
  though I had been a dog. Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 395.

  [373] And laid to my charge whereof there would be none accuser
  brought forth. Ibid.

  [374] Escaping out of their hands. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 116.

  [375] Tynd. Doctr. Tr. p. 298.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE AND THE SCHOOLMAN.]

In this violent warfare, however, he could not fail to receive some
heavy blows; and where could he find consolation? Fryth and Bilney
were far from him. Tyndale recollected an _aged doctor_ who lived near
Sodbury, and who had shown him great affection. He went to see him,
and opened his heart to him.[376] The old man looked at him for a
while as if he hesitated to disclose some great mystery. "Do you not
know," said he, lowering his voice, "that _the pope is very
Antichrist_ whom the Scripture speaketh of?... But beware what you
say.... That knowledge may cost you your life."[377] This doctrine of
Antichrist, which Luther was at that moment enunciating so boldly,
struck Tyndale. Strengthened by it, as was the Saxon reformer, he felt
fresh energy in his heart, and the aged doctor was to him what the
aged friar had been to Luther.

  [376] For to him he durst be bold to disclose his heart. Foxe, Acts,
  v. p. 117.

  [377] Ibid.

When the priests saw that their plot had failed, they commissioned a
celebrated divine to undertake his conversion. The reformer replied
with his Greek Testament to the schoolman's arguments. The theologian
was speechless: at last he exclaimed: "Well then! it were better to be
without God's laws than the pope's."[378] Tyndale, who did not expect
so plain and blasphemous a confession, made answer: "And I defy the
pope and all his laws!" and then, as if unable to keep his secret, he
added: "If God spares my life, I will take care that a plough-boy
shall know more of the Scriptures than you do."[379]

  [378] Ibid.

  [379] Cause a boy that driveth the plough to know more of the
  Scriptures than he did. Ibid.

All his thoughts were now directed to the means of carrying out his
plans; and desirous of avoiding conversations that might compromise
them, he thenceforth passed the greater portion of his time in the
library.[380] He prayed, he read, he began his translation of the
Bible, and in all probability communicated portions of it to Sir John
and Lady Walsh.

  [380] This part of the house was standing in 1839, but has since been
  pulled down. Anderson, Bible Annals, i. p. 37. We cannot but unite in
  the wish expressed in that volume, that the remainder of the building,
  now tenanted by a farmer, may be carefully preserved.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE LEAVES SODBURY.]

All his precautions were useless: the scholastic divine had betrayed
him, and the priests had sworn to stop him in his translation of the
Bible. One day he fell in with a troop of monks and curates, who
abused him in the grossest manner. "It's the favour of the gentry of
the country that makes you so proud," said they; "but notwithstanding
your patrons, there will be a talk about you before long, and in a
pretty fashion too!... You shall not always live in a manor-house!"
"Banish me to the obscurest corner of England," replied Tyndale;
"provided you will permit me to teach children and preach the Gospel,
and give me ten pounds a-year for my support.[381]... I shall be
satisfied!" The priests left him, but with the intention of preparing
him a very different fate.

  [381] Binding him to no more but to teach children and to preach.
  Foxe, Acts, v. p. 117.

Tyndale indulged in his pleasant dreams no longer. He saw that he was
on the point of being arrested, condemned, and interrupted in his
great work. He must seek a retreat where he can discharge in peace the
task God has allotted him. "You cannot save me from the hands of the
priests," said he to Sir John, "and God knows to what troubles you
would expose yourself by keeping me in your family. Permit me to leave
you." Having said this, he gathered up his papers, took his Testament,
pressed the hands of his benefactors, kissed the children, and then
descending the hill, bade farewell to the smiling banks of the Severn,
and departed alone--alone with his faith. What shall he do? What will
become of him? Where shall he go? He went forth like Abraham, one
thing alone engrossing his mind:--the Scriptures shall be translated
into the vulgar tongue, and he will deposit the oracles of God in the
midst of his countrymen.




CHAPTER V.

     Luther's works in England--Consultation of the Bishops--The
     Bull of Leo X published in England--Luther's books
     burnt--Letter of Henry VIII--He undertakes to write against
     Luther--Cry of Alarm--Tradition and Sacramentalism--Prudence
     of Sir T. More--The Book presented to the Pope--_Defender of
     the Faith_--Exultation of the King.


[Sidenote: LUTHER'S WORKS IN ENGLAND.]

Whilst a plain minister was commencing the Reformation in a tranquil
valley in the west of England, powerful reinforcements were landing on
the shores of Kent. The writings and actions of Luther excited a
lively sensation in Great Britain. His appearance before the diet of
Worms was a common subject of conversation. Ships from the harbours of
the Low Countries brought his books to London,[382] and the German
printers had made answer to the nuncio Aleander, who was prohibiting
the Lutheran works in the empire: "Very well! we shall send them _to
England_!" One might almost say that England was destined to be the
asylum of truth. And in fact, the _Theses_ of 1517, the _Explanation
of the Lord's Prayer_, the books _against Emser_, _against the papacy
of Rome_, _against the bull of Antichrist_, _the Epistle to the
Galatians_, _the Appeal to the German nobility_, and above all the
_Babylonish Captivity of the Church_--all crossed the sea, were
translated, and circulated throughout the kingdom.[383] The German and
English nations, having a common origin and being sufficiently alike
at that time in character and civilization, the works intended for one
might be read by the other with advantage. The monk in his cell, the
country gentleman in his hall, the doctor in his college, the
tradesman in his shop, and even the bishop in his palace, studied
these extraordinary writings. The laity in particular, who had been
prepared by Wickliffe and disgusted by the avarice and disorderly
lives of the priests, read with enthusiasm the eloquent pages of the
Saxon monk. They strengthened all hearts.

  [382] Burnet, Hist. of the Reformation, (Lond. 1841, Oct.) i. p. 21.

  [383] Libros Lutheranos quorum magnus jam numerus pervenerat in manus
  Anglorum. (Polyd. Virg. Angl. Hist. (Basil, 1570, fol.) p. 664.) A
  great many of the Lutheran books had already come into the hands of
  the English.

[Sidenote: PUBLICATION OF THE PAPAL BULL.]

The papacy was not inactive in presence of all these efforts. The
times of Gregory VII and of Innocent III, it is true, were passed; and
weakness and irresolution had succeeded to the former energy and
activity of the Roman pontificate. The spiritual power had resigned
the dominion of Europe to the secular powers, and it was doubtful
whether faith in the papacy could be found in the papacy itself. Yet a
German (Dr. Eck) by the most indefatigible exertions had extorted a
bull from the profane Leo X,[384] and this bull had just reached
England. The pope himself sent it to Henry, calling upon him to
extirpate the Lutheran heresy.[385] The king handed it to Wolsey, and
the latter transmitted it to the bishops, who, after reading _the
heretic's_ books, met together to discuss the matter.[386] There was
more Romish faith in London than in the Vatican. "This false friar,"
exclaimed Wolsey, "attacks submission to the clergy--that fountain of
all virtues." The humanist prelates were the most annoyed; the road
they had taken ended in an abyss, and they shrank back in alarm.
Tonstall, the friend of Erasmus, afterwards bishop of London, and who
had just returned from his embassy to Germany where Luther had been
painted to him in the darkest colours, was particularly violent: "This
monk is a _Proteus_.... I mean an _atheist_.[387] If you allow the
heresies to grow up which he is scattering with both hands, they will
choke the faith and the church will perish.[388] Had we not enough of
the Wickliffites--here are new legions of the same kind!... To-day
Luther calls for the abolition of the mass; to-morrow he will ask for
the abolition of Jesus Christ.[389] He rejects every thing, and puts
nothing in its place. What? if barbarians plunder our frontiers, we
punish them ... and shall we bear with heretics who plunder our
altars?... No! by the mortal agony that Christ endured, I entreat
you.... What am I saying? the whole church conjures you to combat
against this devouring _dragon_.... to punish this _hell-dog_, to
silence his sinister howlings, and to drive him shamefully back into
his den."[390] Thus spoke the eloquent Tonstall; nor was Wolsey far
behind him. The only attachment at all respectable in this man was
that which he entertained for the church; it may perhaps be called
respectable, for it was the only one that did not exclusively regard
himself. On the 14th May 1521, this English pope, in imitation of the
Italian pope, issued his bull against Luther.

  [384] See above. Book VI. chap. iv.

  [385] Ab hoc regno extirpandum et abolendum. Cardinal. Ebor.
  Commissio. Strype, M. I. v. p. 22.

  [386] Habitoque super hac re diligenti tractatu. Ibid.

  [387] Cum illo _Protheo_....imo _Atheo_. Erasm. Ep. 1158.

  [388] Tota ruet Ecclesia. Ibid. p. 1159.

  [389] Nisi de abolendo Christo scribere destinavit. Ibid. p. 1160.

  [390] Gladio Spiritus abactum in antrum suum coges. Ibid.

[Sidenote: SARCASMS OF THE PEOPLE.]

It was read (probably on the first Sunday in June) in all the churches
during high mass, when the congregation was most numerous.[391] A
priest exclaimed: "For every book of Martin Luther's found in your
possession within fifteen days after this injunction, you will incur
the greater excommunication." Then a public notary, holding the pope's
bull in his hand, with a description of Luther's _perverse opinions_,
proceeded towards the principal door of the church and fastened up the
document.[392] The people gathered round it; the most competent person
read it aloud, while the rest listened; and the following are some of
the sentences which, by the pope's order, resounded in the porches of
all the cathedral, conventual, collegiate, and parish churches of
every county in England:[393]

     "11. Sins are not pardoned to any, unless, the priest
     remitting them, he believe they are remitted to him.

     "13. If by reason of some impossibility, the _contrite_ be
     not confessed, or the priest absolve him, not in earnest,
     but in jest; yet if he believe that he is absolved, he is
     most truly absolved.

     "14. In the sacrament of _penance_ and the remission of a
     fault, the pope or bishop doth not more than the lowest
     priest; yea, where there is not a priest, then any Christian
     will do; yea, if it were a woman or a child.

     "26. The pope, the successor of Peter, is not Christ's
     vicar.

     "28. It is not at all in the hand of the church or the pope
     to decree articles of faith, no, nor to decree the laws of
     manners or of good works."

  [391] Cum major convenerit multitudo. Ibid.

  [392] In valvis seu locis publicis ecclesiæ vestræ. (Ibid. p. 24.) On
  the doors or public places of your churches.

  [393] Strype, M. I. p. 57, (Oxf. ed.) or Luther, xvii, p. 306.

The cardinal-legate, accompanied by the nuncio, by the ambassador of
Charles V, and by several bishops, proceeded in great pomp to St.
Paul's, where the bishop of Rochester preached, and Wolsey burnt
Luther's books.[394] But they were hardly reduced to ashes, before
sarcasms and jests were heard in every direction. "_Fire_ is not a
theological argument," said one. "The papists, who accuse Martin
Luther of slaying and murdering Christians," added another, "are like
the pickpocket, who began to cry _stop thief_, as soon as he saw
himself in danger of being caught." "The bishop of Rochester," said a
third, "concludes that because Luther has thrown the pope's decretals
into the fire, he would throw in the pope himself.... We may hence
deduce another syllogism, quite as sound: The popes have burnt the New
Testament, therefore, if they could, they would burn Christ
himself."[395] These jests were rapidly circulated from mouth to
mouth. It was not enough that Luther's writings were in England, they
must needs be known, and the priests took upon themselves to advertise
them. The Reformation was advancing, and Rome herself pushed behind
the car.

  [394] See above, Book IX, chap x.

  [395] They would have burnt Christ himself. Tynd. Doct. Tr. Obedience,
  etc. (Park. Soc.) p. 221.

[Sidenote: HENRY WRITES AGAINST LUTHER.]

The cardinal saw that something more was required than these paper
_autos-da-fé_, and the activity he displayed may indicate what he
would have done in Europe, if ever he had reached the pontifical
chair. "The spirit of Satan left him no repose," says the papist
Sanders.[396] Some action out of the ordinary course is needful,
thought Wolsey. Kings have hitherto been the enemies of the popes: a
king shall now undertake their defence. Princes are not very anxious
about learning, a prince shall publish a book!... "Sire," said he to
the king, to get Henry in the vein, "you ought to write to the princes
of Germany on the subject of this heresy." He did so. Writing to the
Archduke Palatine, he said: "This fire, which has been kindled by
Luther, and fanned by the arts of the devil, is raging every where. If
Luther does not repent, deliver him and his audacious treatises to the
flames. I offer you my royal co-operation, and even, if necessary, my
life."[397] This was the first time Henry showed that cruel thirst,
which was in after days to be quenched in the blood of his wives and
friends.

  [396] Satanæ spiritu actus. (De Schism. Angl. p. 8.) Urged by the
  spirit of Satan.

  [397] Kapps Urkunden, ii, p. 458.

The king having taken the first step, it was not difficult for Wolsey
to induce him to take another. To defend the honour of Thomas Aquinas,
to stand forward as the champion of the church, and to obtain from the
pope a title equivalent to that of _Christianissimus_, most Christian
king, were more than sufficient motives to induce Henry to break a
lance with Luther. "I will combat with the pen this Cerberus, sprung
from the depths of hell,"[398] said he, "and if he refuses to retract,
the fire shall consume the heretic and his heresies together."[399]

  [398] Velut Cerberum ex inferis producit in lucem. Regis ad lectorem.
  Epist. p. 94.

  [399] Ut errores ejus eumque ipsum ignis exurat. Ibid. p. 95.

The king shut himself up in his library: all the scholastic tastes
with which his youth had been imbued were revived; he worked as if he
were archbishop of Canterbury, and not king of England; with the
pope's permission he read Luther's writings; he ransacked Thomas
Aquinas; forged, with infinite labour, the arrows with which he hoped
to pierce the heretic; called several learned men to his aid, and at
last published his book. His first words were a cry of alarm. "Beware
of the track of this serpent," said he to his Christian readers; "walk
on tiptoe; fear the thickets and caves in which he lies concealed, and
whence he will dart his poison on you. If he licks you, be careful!
the cunning viper caresses only that he may bite!"[400] After that
Henry sounded a charge: "Be of good cheer! Filled with the same valour
that you would display against Turks, Saracens, and other infidels,
march now against this _little friar_,--a fellow apparently weak, but
more formidable through the spirit that animates him than all
infidels, Saracens, and Turks put together."[401] Thus did Henry VIII,
the _Peter the Hermit_ of the sixteenth century, preach a crusade
against Luther, in order to save the papacy.

  [400] Qui tantum ideo lambit ut mordeat. Assertio Sept. Sacram.

  [401] Sed animo Turcis omnibus Sarracenis omnibus usquam infidelibus
  nocentiorem fraterculum. Ibid. p. 147.

[Sidenote: PRUDENCE OF MORE.]

He had skilfully chosen the ground on which he gave battle:
sacramentalism and tradition are in fact the two essential features of
the papal religion; just as a lively faith and Holy Scripture are of
the religion of the Gospel. Henry did a service to the Reformation, by
pointing out the principles it would mainly have to combat; and by
furnishing Luther with an opportunity of establishing the authority of
the Bible, he made him take a most important step in the path of
reform. "If a teaching is opposed to Scripture," said the Reformer,
"whatever be its origin--traditions, custom, kings, Thomists,
sophists, Satan, or even an angel from heaven,--all from whom it
proceeds must be accursed. _Nothing can exist contrary to Scripture_,
and every thing must exist for it."

Henry's book being terminated by the aid of the bishop of Rochester,
the king showed it to Sir Thomas More, who begged him to pronounce
less decidedly in favour of the papal supremacy. "I will not change a
word," replied the king, full of servile devotion to the popedom.
"Besides, I have my reasons," and he whispered them in More's ear.

Doctor Clarke, ambassador from England at the court of Rome, was
commissioned to present the pope with a magnificently bound copy of
the king's work. "The glory of England," said he, "is to be in the
foremost rank among the nations in obedience to the papacy."[402]
Happily Britain was ere long to know a glory of a very different kind.
The ambassador added that his master, after having refuted Luther's
errors with the _pen_, was ready to combat his adherents with the
_sword_.[403] The pope, touched with this offer, gave him his foot,
and then his cheek to kiss, and said to him: "I will do for your
Master's book as much as the church has done for the works of St.
Jerome and St. Augustine."

  [402] Fiddes' Life of Wolsey. p. 249.

  [403] Totius regni sui viribus et armis. (Rymer, Foedera, VI. p. 199.)
  By the strength and arms of his whole kingdom.

[Sidenote: DEFENDER OF THE FAITH.]

The enfeebled papacy had neither the power of intelligence, nor even
of fanaticism. It still maintained its pretensions and its pomp, but
it resembled the corpses of the mighty ones of the earth that lie in
state, clad in their most magnificent robes: splendour above, death
and corruption below. The thunder-bolts of a Hildebrand ceasing to
produce their effect, Rome gratefully accepted the defence of laymen,
such as Henry VIII and Sir Thomas More, without disdaining their
judicial sentences and their scaffolds. "We must honour those noble
champions," said the pope to his cardinals, "who show themselves
prepared to cut off with the sword the rotten members of Jesus
Christ.[404] What title shall we give to the virtuous king of
England?"--_Protector of the Roman church_, suggested one; _Apostolic
king_, said another; and finally, but not without some opposition,
Henry VIII was proclaimed _Defender of the Faith_. At the same time
the pope promised ten years' indulgence to all readers of the king's
book. This was a lure after the fashion of the middle ages, and which
never failed in its effect. The clergy compared its author to the
wisest of kings; and the book, of which many thousand copies were
printed, filled the Christian world (Cochloeus tells us) with
admiration and delight.

  [404] Putida membra...ferro et materiali gladio abscindere. (Rymer,
  Foedera, vi, p. 199.) To cut off the rotten members with iron and the
  material sword.

Nothing could equal Henry's joy. "His majesty," said the vicar of
Croydon, "would not exchange that name for all London and twenty miles
round."[405] The king's fool, entering the room just as his master had
received the bull, asked him the cause of his transports. "The pope
has just named me _Defender of the Faith_!"--"Ho! ho! good Harry,"
replied the fool, "let you and me defend one another; but ... take my
word for it ... _let the faith alone to defend itself_."[406] An
entire modern system was found in those words. In the midst of the
general intoxication, the fool was the only sensible person. But Henry
could listen to nothing. Seated on an elevated throne, with the
cardinal at his right hand, he caused the pope's letter to be read in
public. The trumpets sounded: Wolsey said Mass; the king and his court
took their seats around a sumptuous table, and the heralds at arms
proclaimed: _Henricus Dei gratia Rex Angliæ et Franciæ, Defensor Fidei
et Dominus Hiberniæ!_

  [405] Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 596.

  [406] Fuller, book v, p. 168.

Thus was the king of England more than ever united to the pope:
whoever brings the Holy Scriptures into his kingdom shall there
encounter that material sword, _ferrum et materialem gladium_, in
which the papacy so much delighted.




CHAPTER VI.

     Wolsey's Machinations to obtain the Tiara--He gains Charles
     V--Alliance between Henry and Charles--Wolsey offers to
     command the Troops--Treaty of Bruges--Henry believes himself
     King of France--Victories of Francis I--Death of Leo X.


[Sidenote: WOLSEY DESIRES THE TIARA.]

One thing only was wanting to check more surely the progress of the
Gospel: Wolsey's accession to the pontifical throne. Consumed by the
desire of reaching "the summit of sacerdotal unity,"[407] he formed,
to attain this end, one of the most perfidious schemes ambition ever
engendered. He thought with others: "The end justifies the means."

  [407] Unitatis sacerdotalis fastigium conscendere. Sanders, De Schism.
  Ang. 8.

The cardinal could only attain the popedom through the emperor or the
king of France; for then, as now, it was the secular powers that
really elected the chief of catholicity. After carefully weighing the
influence of these two princes, Wolsey found that the balance inclined
to the side of Charles, and his choice was made. A close intimacy of
long standing united him to Francis I, but that mattered little; he
must betray his friend to gain his friend's rival.

But this was no easy matter. Henry was dissatisfied with Charles the
Fifth.[408] Wolsey was therefore obliged to employ every imaginable
delicacy in his manoeuvres. First he sent Sir Richard Wingfield to the
emperor; then he wrote a flattering letter in Henry's name to the
princess-regent of the Low Countries. The difficulty was to get the
king to sign it. "Have the goodness to put your name," said Wolsey,
"even if it should annoy your Highness.... You know very well ... that
women like to be pleased."[409] This argument prevailed with the king,
who still possessed a spirit of gallantry. Lastly, Wolsey being named
arbitrator between Charles and Francis, resolved to depart for Calais,
apparently to hear the complaints of the two princes; but in reality
to betray one of them. Wolsey felt as much pleasure in such practices,
as Francis in giving battle.

  [408] Hys owne affayris doith not succede with th'Emperour. State
  Papers, vol. i, p. 10.

  [409] Ibid. p. 12.

[Sidenote: THE EMPEROR'S PROMISES.]

The king of France rejected his arbitration: he had a sharp eye, and
his mother one still sharper. "Your master loves me not," said he to
Charles's ambassador, "and I do not love him any more, and am
determined to be his enemy."[410] It was impossible to speak more
plainly. Far from imitating this frankness, the politic Charles
endeavoured to gain Wolsey, and Wolsey, who was eager to sell himself,
adroitly hinted at what price he might be bought. "If the king of
England sides with me," Charles informed the cardinal, "you shall be
elected pope at the death of Leo X."[411] Francis, betrayed by Wolsey,
abandoned by the pope, and threatened by the emperor, determined at
last to accept Henry's mediation.

  [410] He was utterly determined to be his enemy. Cotton MSS. Galba, B.
  7, p. 35.

  [411] Ut Wolseus mortuo Leone decimo fieret summus pontifex.

But Charles was now thinking of very different matters. Instead of a
mediation, he demanded of the king of England 4000 of his famous
bowmen. Henry smiled as he read the despatch and looking at Pace his
secretary, and Marney the captain of his guards, he said: "_Beati qui
audiunt et non intelligunt!_" thus forbidding them to understand, and
above all to bruit abroad this strange request. It was agreed to raise
the number of archers to 6000; and the cardinal, having the tiara
continually before his eyes, departed to perform at Calais the odious
comedy of a hypocritical arbitration. Being detained at Dover by
contrary winds, the mediator took advantage of this delay to draw up a
list of the 6000 archers and their captains, not forgetting to insert
in it, "certain obstinate deer," as Henry had said, "that must of
necessity be hunted down."[412] These were some gentlemen whom the
king desired to get rid of.

  [412] Sayyinge that certayne hartes were so toggidde for hym, that he
  must neadys hunte them. State Papers, i, p. 26.

While the ambassadors of the king of France were received at Calais on
the 4th of August with great honours, by the lord high chamberlain of
England, the cardinal signed a convention with Charles's ministers
that Henry should withdraw his promise of the Princess Mary's hand to
the dauphin, and give her to the emperor. At the same time he issued
orders to destroy the French navy, and to invade France.[413] And
finally he procured by way of compensating England for the pension of
16,000 pounds hitherto received from the court of St. Germains, that
the emperor should pay henceforward the annual sum of 40,000 marks.
Without ready money the bargain would not have been a good one.

  [413] Ibid. i, p. 23.

[Sidenote: THE TREATY OF BRUGES.]

This was not all. While Wolsey was waiting to be elected pope, he
conceived the idea of becoming a soldier. A commander was wanted for
the 6000 archers Henry was sending against the king of France; and why
should he not be the cardinal himself? He immediately intrigued to get
the noblemen set aside who had been proposed as generals in chief.
"Shrewsbury," he said to the king, "is wanted for Scotland--Worcester
by his experience is worthy that ... you should keep him near you. As
for Dorset ... he will be very dear." Then the priest added: "Sire, if
during my sojourn on the other side of the sea, you have good reason
to send your archers.... I hasten to inform you that whenever the
emperor takes the command of his soldiers, I am ready, although an
ecclesiastic,[414] to put myself at the head of yours." What
devotedness! Wolsey would cause his cross of cardinal _a latere_ to be
carried before him (he said); and neither Francis nor Bayard would be
able to resist him. To command at the same time the state, the church,
and the army, while awaiting the tiara,--to surround his head with
laurels: such was this man's ambition. Unfortunately for him, they
were not of that opinion at court. The king made the earl of Essex
commander-in-chief.

  [414] Though I be a spiritual man. State Papers, i, p. 31.

As Wolsey could not be general, he turned to diplomacy. He hastened to
Bruges; and as he entered at the emperor's side, a voice was heard
above the crowd, exclaiming: _Salve, Rex regis tui atque regni
sui!_[415]--a sound most pleasing to his ears. People were very much
astonished at Bruges by the intimacy existing between the cardinal and
the emperor. "There is some mystery beneath it all," they said.[416]
Wolsey desired to place the crown of France on Henry's head, and the
tiara on his own. Such was the mystery, which was well worth a few
civilities to the mighty Charles V. The alliance was concluded, and
the contracting parties agreed "to avenge the insults offered to the
throne of Jesus Christ," or in other words, to the popedom.

  [415] Hail, both king of thy king and also of his kingdom. Tynd.
  Expos. p. 314.

  [416] There was a certain secret whereof all men knew not. Ibid. 315.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S PRACTICES.]

Wolsey, in order to drag Henry into the intrigues which were to
procure him the tiara, had reminded him that he was _king of France_,
and the suggestion had been eagerly caught at. At midnight on the 7th
of August, the king dictated to his secretary a letter for Wolsey
containing this strange expression: _Si ibitis parare regi locum in
regno ejus hereditario, Majestas ejus_ _quum tempus erit opportunum,
sequetur_.[417] The theologian who had corrected the famous latin book
of the king's against Luther, most certainly had not revised this
phrase. According to Henry, France was his hereditary kingdom, and
Wolsey was going to prepare the throne for him.... The king could not
restrain his joy at the mere idea, and already he surpassed in
imagination both Edward III and the Black Prince. "I am about to
attain a glory superior to that which my ancestors have gained by so
many wars and battles."[418] Wolsey traced out for him the road to his
palace on the banks of the Seine: "Mezières is about to fall;
afterwards there is only Rheims, which is not a strong city; and thus
your grace will very easily reach Paris."[419] Henry followed on the
map the route he would have to take: "Affairs are going on well,"
wrote the cardinal, "the Lord be praised." In him this Christian
language was a mere official formality.

  [417] If you go to prepare a place for the king in his hereditary
  kingdom, his Majesty will follow you at a fitting season. State
  Papers, i, 36.

  [418] Majora assequi quam omnes ipsius progenitores tot bellis et
  præliis. Ibid. 45.

  [419] Your grace shall have but a leyve wey to Parys. Ibid. 46.

Wolsey was mistaken: things were going on badly. On the 20th of
October 1522, Francis I whom so much perfidy had been unable to
deceive,--Francis, ambitious and turbulent, but honest in this matter
at least, and confiding in the strength of his arms, had suddenly
appeared between Cambray and Valenciennes. The emperor fled to
Flanders in alarm, and Wolsey, instead of putting himself at the head
of the army, had shielded himself under his arbitrator's cloak.
Writing to Henry, who, a fortnight before, had by his advice excited
Charles to attack France, he said: "I am confident that your _virtuous
mediation_ will greatly increase your reputation and honour throughout
Christendom."[420] Francis rejected Wolsey's offers, but the object of
the latter was attained. The negotiations had gained time for Charles,
and bad weather soon stopped the French army. Wolsey returned
satisfied to London about the middle of December. It was true that
Henry's triumphant entry into Paris became very difficult; but the
cardinal was sure of the emperor's favour, and through it (he
imagined) of the tiara. Wolsey had done, therefore, what he desired.
He had hardly arrived in England, when there came news which raised
him to the height of happiness: Leo X was dead. His joy surpassed what
Henry had felt at the thought of his _hereditary kingdom_. Protected
by the powerful Charles V, to whom he had sacrificed every thing, the
English cardinal was at last on the point of receiving that pontifical
crown which would permit him to crush heresy, and which was, in his
eyes, the just reward of so many infamous transactions.

  [420] Cotton MSS. Calig. D. 8. p. 85.




CHAPTER VII.

     The Just Men of Lincolnshire--Their Assemblies and
     Teaching--Agnes and Morden--Itinerant Libraries--Polemical
     Conversations--Sarcasm--Royal Decree and Terror--Depositions
     and Condemnations--Four Martyrs--A Conclave--Charles
     consoles Wolsey.


[Sidenote: THE JUST MEN OF LINCOLNSHIRE.]

Wolsey did not stay until he was pope, before persecuting the
disciples of the word of God. Desirous of carrying out the
stipulations of the convention at Bruges, he had broken out against
"the king's subjects who disturbed the apostolic see." Henry had to
vindicate the title conferred on him by the pope; the cardinal had to
gain the popedom; and both could satisfy their desires by the erection
of a few scaffolds.

[Sidenote: AGNES AND MORDEN.]

In the county of Lincoln on the shores of the North Sea, along the
fertile banks of the Humber, Trent, and Witham, and on the slopes of
the smiling hills, dwelt many peaceful Christians--labourers,
artificers, and shepherds--who spent their days in toil, in keeping
their flocks, in doing good, and in reading the Bible.[421] The more
the gospel-light increased in England, the greater was the increase in
the number of these children of peace.[422] These "just men," as they
were called, were devoid of human knowledge, but they thirsted for the
knowledge of God. Thinking they were alone the true disciples of the
Lord, they married only among themselves.[423] They appeared
occasionally at church; but instead of repeating their prayers like
the rest, they sat, said their enemies, "mum like beasts."[424] On
Sundays and holidays, they assembled in each other's houses, and
sometimes passed a whole night in reading a portion of Scripture. If
there chanced to be few books among them, one of the brethren, who
had learnt by heart the Epistle of St. James, the beginning of St.
Luke's gospel, the sermon on the mount, or an epistle of St. Paul's,
would recite a few verses in a loud and calm voice; then all would
piously converse about the holy truths of the faith, and exhort one
another to put them in practice. But if any person joined their
meetings, who did not belong to their body, they would all keep
silent.[425] Speaking much among each other, they were speechless
before those from without: fear of the priests and of the faggot made
them dumb. There was no family rejoicing without the Scriptures. At
the marriage of a daughter of the aged Durdant, one of their
patriarchs, the wedding party met secretly in a barn, and read the
whole of one of St. Paul's epistles. Marriages are rarely celebrated
with such pastimes as this!

  [421] Being simple labourers and artificers. Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 240.

  [422] As the light of the Gospel began more to appear, and the numbers
  of professors to grow. Ibid. p. 217.

  [423] Did contract matrimony only with themselves. Ibid. p. 223.

  [424] Ibid. p. 225.

  [425] If any came in among them that were not of their side, then they
  would keep all silent. Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 222.

Although they were dumb before enemies or suspected persons, these
poor people did not keep silence in the presence of the humble: a
glowing proselytism characterized them all. "Come to my house," said
the pious Agnes Ashford to James Morden, "and I will teach you some
verses of Scripture." Agnes was an educated woman; she could read;
Morden came, and the poor woman's chamber was transformed into a
school of theology. Agnes began: "Ye are the salt of the earth," and
then recited the following verses.[426] Five times did Morden return
to Agnes before he knew that beautiful discourse. "We are spread like
salt over the various parts of the kingdom," said this Christian woman
to the neophyte, "in order that we may check the progress of
superstition by our doctrine and our life. But," added she in alarm,
"keep this secret in your heart, as a man would keep a thief in
prison."[427]

  [426] Matth. v. 13-16.

  [427] Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 225.

[Sidenote: SARCASM.]

As books were rare these pious Christians had established a kind of
itinerant library, and one John Scrivener was continually engaged in
carrying the precious volumes from one to another.[428] But at times,
as he was proceeding along the banks of the river or through the
forest glades, he observed that he was followed. He would quicken his
pace and run into some barn where the friendly peasants promptly hid
him beneath the straw, or, like the spies of Israel, under the stalks
of flax.[429] The bloodhounds arrived, sought and found nothing; and
more than once those who so generously harboured these evangelists
cruelly expiated the crime of charity.

  [428] Carrying about books from one to another. Ibid. iv, p. 224.

  [429] Hiding others in their barns. Ibid. p. 243.

The disappointed officers had scarcely retired from the neighbourhood
when these friends of the word of God came out of their hiding-place,
and profited by the moment of liberty to assemble the brethren. The
persecutions they suffered irritated them against the priests. They
worshipped God, read, and sang with a low voice; but when the
conversation became general, they gave free course to their
indignation. "Would you know the use of the pope's pardons?" said one
of them; "they are to blind the eyes and empty the purse."--"True
pilgrimages," said the tailor Geoffrey of Uxbridge, "consist in
visiting the poor and sick--barefoot, if so it please you--for these
are the little ones that are god's true image."--"Money spent in
pilgrimages," added a third, "serves only to maintain thieves and
harlots."[430] The women were often the most animated in the
controversy. "What need is there to go to the _feet_," said Agnes
Ward, who disbelieved in saints, "when we may go to the
_head_?"[431]--"the clergy of the good old times," said the wife of
David Lewis, "used to lead the people as a hen leadeth her
chickens;[432] but now if our priests lead their flocks any where, it
is to the devil assuredly."

  [430] Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 243.

  [431] Ibid. p. 229.

  [432] Ibid. p. 224.

Erelong there was a general panic throughout this district. The king's
confessor John Longland was bishop of Lincoln. This fanatic priest,
Wolsey's creature, took advantage of his position to petition Henry
for a severe persecution: this was the ordinary use in England,
France, and elsewhere, of the confessors of princes. It was
unfortunate that among these pious disciples of the word, men of a
cynical turn were now and then met with, whose biting sarcasms went
beyond all bounds. Wolsey and Longland knew how to employ these
expressions in arousing the king's anger. "As one of these fellows,"
they said, "was busy beating out his corn in his barn, a man chanced
to pass by. 'Good morrow, neighbour,' (said the latter), 'you are hard
at it!'--'Yes,' replied the old heretic, thinking of transubstantiation,
'I am thrashing the corn out of which the priests make God Almighty.'"
[433] Henry hesitated no longer.

  [433] I thresh God Almighty out of the straw. Ibid. p. 222.

[Sidenote: THE BISHOP'S TRIBUNAL.]

On the 20th October 1521, nine days after the bull on the _Defender of
the Faith_ had been signed at Rome, the king, who was at Windsor,
summoned his secretary, and dictated an order commanding all his
subjects to assist the bishop of Lincoln against the heretics. "You
will obey it at the peril of your lives," added he. The order was
transmitted to Longland, and the bishop immediately issued his
warrants, and his officers spread terror far and wide. When they
beheld them, these peaceful but timid Christians were troubled.
Isabella Bartlet, hearing them approach her cottage, screamed out to
her husband: "You are a lost man! and I am a dead woman!"[434] This
cry was re-echoed from all the cottages of Lincolnshire. The bishop,
on his judgment-seat, skilfully played upon these poor unhappy beings
to make them accuse one another. Alas! according to the ancient
prophecy: "the brother delivered up the brother to death." Robert
Bartlet deposed against his brother Richard and his own wife; Jane
Bernard accused her own father and Tredway his mother. It was not
until after the most cruel anguish that these poor creatures were
driven to such frightful extremities; but the bishop and death
terrified them: a small number alone remained firm. As regards
heroism, Wickliffe's Reformation brought but a feeble aid to the
Reformation of the sixteenth century; still, if it did not furnish
many heroes, it prepared the English people to love God's word above
all things. Of these humble people, some were condemned to do penance
in different monasteries; others to carry a faggot on their shoulders
thrice round the market-place, and then to stand some time exposed to
the jeers of the populace; others were fastened to a post while the
executioner branded them on the cheek with a red-hot iron. They also
had their martyrs. Wickliffe's revival had never been without them.
Four of these brethren were chosen to be put to death, and among them
the pious evangelical _colporteur_ Scrivener. By burning him to ashes,
the clergy desired to make sure that he would no longer circulate the
word of God; and by a horrible refinement of cruelty his children were
compelled to set fire to the pile that was to consume their
father.[435] They stretched forth their trembling hands, held in the
strong grasp of the executioners.... Poor children!... But it is
easier to burn the limbs of Christians than to quench the Spirit of
Heaven. These cruel fires could not destroy among the Lincolnshire
peasantry that love of the Bible which in all ages has been England's
strength, far more than the wisdom of her senators or the bravery of
her generals.

  [434] Alas! now are you an undone man, and I but a dead woman. Foxe,
  Acts, v, p. 224.

  [435] Ibid. p. 245.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY LOSES THE TIARA.]

Having by these exploits gained indisputable claims to the tiara,
Wolsey turned his efforts towards Rome. Leo X, as we have seen, was
just dead (1522). The cardinal sent Pace to Rome, instructing him to
"Represent to the cardinals that by choosing a partizan of Charles or
Francis, they will incur the enmity of one or the other of these
princes, and that if they elect some feeble Italian priest, the
apostolical see must become the prey of the strongest. Luther's revolt
and the emperor's ambition endanger the papacy. There is only one
means of preventing the threatening dangers.... It is to choose me....
Now go and exert yourself."[436] The conclave opened at Rome on the
27th December, and Wolsey was proposed; but the cardinals were not
generally favourable to his election. "He is too young," said one;
"too firm," said another. "He will fix the seat of the papacy in
England and not in Rome," urged many. He did not receive twenty votes.
"The cardinals," wrote the English ambassador, "snarled and quarrelled
with each other; and their bad faith and hatred increased every day."
On the sixth day, only one dish was sent them; and then in despair
they chose Adrian, who had been tutor to the emperor, and the cry was
raised: _Papam habemus!_

  [436] The sole way ... was to chuse him. Herbert, p. 110.

During all this time Wolsey was in London, consumed by ambition, and
counting the days and hours. At length a despatch from Ghent, dated
the 22nd January, reached him with these words: "On the 9th of
January, the cardinal of Tortosa was elected!"... Wolsey was almost
distracted. To gain Charles, he had sacrificed the alliance of Francis
I; there was no stratagem that he had not employed, and yet Charles,
in spite of his engagements, had procured the election of his
tutor!... The emperor knew what must be the cardinal's anger, and
endeavoured to appease it: "The new pope," he wrote, "is old and
sickly;[437] he cannot hold his office long.... Beg the cardinal of
York for my sake to _take great care of his health_."

  [437] The new elect is both old, sickly ... so that he shall not have
  the office long. Cotton MSS. Galba, B. vii, p. 6.

Charles did more than this: he visited London in person, under
pretence of his betrothal with Mary of England, and, in the treaty
then drawn up, he consented to the insertion of an article by virtue
of which Henry VIII and the mighty emperor, bound themselves, if
either should infringe the treaty, to appear before Wolsey and to
submit to his decisions.[438] The cardinal, gratified by such
condescension, grew calm; and at the same time he was soothed with the
most flattering hopes. "Charles's imbecile preceptor," they told him,
"has arrived at the Vatican, attended only by his female cook; you
shall soon make your entrance there surrounded by all your grandeur."
To be certain of his game, Wolsey made secret approaches to Francis I,
and then waited for the death of the pope.[439]

  [438] Both princes appearing before the cardinal of York as judge.
  Art. xiii, Herbert, p. 118.

  [439] Mortem etiam Adriani expectat. Sanders, p. 8.




CHAPTER VIII.

     Character of Tyndale--He arrives in London--He preaches--The
     Cloth and the Ell--The bishop of London gives Audience to
     Tyndale--He is dismissed--A Christian Merchant of
     London--Spirit of Love in the Reformation--Tyndale in
     Monmouth's House--Fryth helps him to translate the New
     Testament--Importunities of the Bishop of
     Lincoln--Persecution in London--Tyndale's Resolution--He
     departs--His Indignation against the Prelates--His Hopes.


[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF TYNDALE.]

While the cardinal was intriguing to attain his selfish ends, Tyndale
was humbly carrying out the great idea of giving the Scriptures of God
to England.

[Sidenote: HE PREACHES SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST.]

After bidding a sad farewell to the manor-house of Sodbury, the
learned tutor had departed for London. This occurred about the end of
1522 or the beginning of 1523. He had left the university--he had
forsaken the house of his protector; his wandering career was about to
commence, but a thick veil hid from him all its sorrows. Tyndale, a
man simple in his habits, sober, daring, and generous, fearing neither
fatigue nor danger, inflexible in his duty, anointed with the Spirit
of God, overflowing with love for his brethren, emancipated from human
traditions, the servant of God alone, and loving nought but Jesus
Christ, imaginative, quick at repartee, and of touching
eloquence--such a man might have shone in the foremost ranks; but he
preferred a retired life in some poor corner, provided he could give
his countrymen the Scriptures of God. Where could he find this calm
retreat? was the question he put to himself as he was making his
solitary way to London. The metropolitan see was then filled by
Cuthbert Tonstall, who was more of a statesman and a scholar than of
a churchman, "the first of English men in Greek and Latin literature,"
said Erasmus. This eulogy of the learned Dutchman occurred to
Tyndale's memory.[440] It was the Greek Testament of Erasmus that led
me to Christ, said he to himself; why should not the house of
Erasmus's friend offer me a shelter that I may translate it.... At
last he reached London, and, a stranger in that crowded city, he
wandered along the streets, a prey by turns to hope and fear.

  [440] As I thus thought, the bishop of London came to my remembrance.
  Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 395.

Being recommended by Sir John Walsh to Sir Harry Guildford, the king's
comptroller, and by him to several priests, Tyndale began to preach
almost immediately, especially at St. Dunstan's, and bore into the
heart of the capital the truth which had been banished from the banks
of the Severn. The _word_ of God was with him the basis of salvation,
and the _grace_ of God its essence. His inventive mind presented the
truths he proclaimed in a striking manner. He said on one
occasion:--"It is the blood of Christ that opens the gates of heaven,
and not thy works. I am wrong.... Yes, if thou wilt have it so, by thy
good works shalt thou be saved.--Yet, understand me well,--not by
those which thou has done, but by those which Christ has done for
thee. Christ is in thee and thou in him, knit together inseparably.
Thou canst not be damned, except Christ be damned with thee; neither
can Christ be saved except thou be saved with him."[441] This lucid
view of justification by faith places Tyndale among the reformers. He
did not take his seat on a bishop's throne, or wear a silken cope; but
he mounted the scaffold, and was clothed with a garment of flames. In
the service of a crucified Saviour this latter distinction is higher
than the former.

  [441] Ibid. p. 79.

Yet the translation was his chief business; he spoke to his
acquaintances about it, and some of them opposed his project. "The
teachings of the doctors," said some of the city tradesmen, "can alone
make us understand Scripture." "That is to say," replied Tyndale, "I
must measure the _yard_ by the _cloth_.[442] Look here," continued he,
using a practical argument, "here are in your shop twenty pieces of
stuff of different lengths.... Do you measure the yard by these
pieces, or the pieces by the yard?... The universal standard is
Scripture." This comparison was easily fixed in the minds of the petty
tradesmen of the capital.

  [442] Ibid. p. 153.

[Sidenote: IS RECOMMENDED TO TONSTALL.]

Desirous of carrying out his project, Tyndale aspired to become the
bishop's chaplain;[443] his ambition was more modest than Wolsey's.
The hellenist possessed qualities which could not fail to please the
most learned of Englishmen in Greek literature: Tonstall and Tyndale
both liked and read the same authors. The ex-tutor determined to plead
his cause through the elegant and harmonious disciple of Radicus and
Gorgias: "Here is one of Isocrates' orations that I have translated
into Latin," said he to Sir Harry Guildford; "I should be pleased to
become chaplain to his lordship the bishop of London; will you beg him
to accept this trifle. Isocrates ought to be an excellent
recommendation to a scholar; will you be good enough to add yours."
Guildford spoke to the bishop, placed the translation in his hands,
and Tonstall replied with that benevolence which he showed to every
one. "Your business is in a fair way," said the comptroller to
Tyndale; "write a letter to his lordship, and deliver it
yourself."[444]

  [443] He laboured to be his chaplain. Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 617.

  [444] He willed me to write an epistle to my lord, and to go to him
  myself. Ibid.

Tyndale's hopes now began to be realized. He wrote his letter in the
best style, and then, commending himself to God, proceeded to the
episcopal palace. He fortunately knew one of the bishop's officers,
William Hebilthwayte, to whom he gave the letter. Hebilthwayte carried
it to his lordship, while Tyndale waited. His heart throbbed with
anxiety: shall he find at last the long hoped for asylum? The bishop's
answer might decide the whole course of his life. If the door is
opened,--if the translator of the Scriptures should be settled in the
episcopal palace, why should not his London patron receive the truth
like his patron at Sodbury? and, in that case, what a future for the
church and for the kingdom!... The Reformation was knocking at the
door of the hierarchy of England, and the latter was about to utter
its yea or its nay. After a few moments' absence Hebilthwayte
returned: "I am going to conduct you to his lordship." Tyndale fancied
himself that he had attained his wishes.

[Sidenote: THE BISHOP'S REPLY.]

The bishop was too kind-hearted to refuse an audience to a man who
called upon him with the triple recommendation of Isocrates, of the
comptroller, and of the king's old companion in arms. He received
Tyndale with kindness, a little tempered however with coldness, as if
he were a man whose acquaintanceship might compromise him. Tyndale
having made known his wishes, the bishop hastened to reply: "Alas! my
house is full.[445] I have now more people than I can employ." Tyndale
was discomfited by this answer. The bishop of London was a learned
man, but wanting in courage and consistency; he gave his right hand to
the friends of letters and of the Gospel, and his left hand to the
friends of the priests; and then endeavoured to walk with both. But
when he had to choose between the two parties, clerical interests
prevailed. There was no lack of bishops, priests, and laymen about
him, who intimidated him by their clamours. After taking a few steps
forward, he suddenly recoiled. Still Tyndale ventured to hazard a
word; but the prelate was cold as before. The humanists, who laughed
at the ignorance of the monks, hesitated to touch an ecclesiastical
system which lavished on them such rich sinecures. They accepted the
new ideas in theory, but not in practice. They were very willing to
discuss them at table, but not to proclaim them from the pulpit; and
covering the Greek Testament with applause, they tore it in pieces
when rendered into the vulgar tongue. "If you will look well about
London," said Tonstall coldly to the poor priest; "you will not fail
to meet with some suitable employment." This was all Tyndale could
obtain. Hebilthwayte waited on him to the door, and the hellenist
departed sad and desponding.

  [445] My lord answered me, his home was full. Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p.
  395.

His expectations were disappointed. Driven from the banks of the
Severn, without a home in the capital, what would become of the
translation of the Scriptures? "Alas!" he said; "I was deceived
...[446] there is nothing to be looked for from the bishops.... Christ
was smitten on the cheek before the bishop, Paul was buffeted before
the bishop[447] ... and a bishop has just turned me away." His
dejection did not last long: there was an elastic principle in his
soul. "I hunger for the word of God," said he, "I will translate it,
whatever they may say or do. God will not suffer me to perish. He
never made a mouth but he made food for it, nor a body, but he made
raiment also."[448]

  [446] I was beguiled. Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 395.

  [447] Expositions, p. 59.

  [448] Tynd. and Fryth's Works, ii, p. 349.

[Sidenote: THE LONDON MERCHANT.]

This trustfulness was not misplaced. It was the privilege of a layman
to give what the bishop refused. Among Tyndale's hearers at St.
Dunstan's was a rich merchant named Humphrey Monmouth, who had visited
Rome, and to whom (as well as to his companions) the pope had been so
kind as to give certain Roman curiosities, such as indulgences, _a
culpâ et a poenâ_. Ships laden with his manufactures every year quitted
London for foreign countries. He had formerly attended Colet's
preaching at St. Paul's, and from the year 1515 he had known the word
of God.[449] He was one of the gentlest and most obliging men in
England; he kept open house for the friends of learning and of the
Gospel, and his library contained the newest publications. In putting
on Jesus Christ, Monmouth had particularly striven to put on his
character; he helped generously with his purse both priests and men of
letters; he gave forty pounds sterling to the chaplain of the bishop
of London, the same to the king's, to the provincial of the
Augustines, and to others besides. Latimer, who sometimes dined with
him, once related in the pulpit an anecdote characteristic of the
friends of the Reformation in England. Among the regular guests at
Monmouth's table was one of his poorest neighbours, a zealous
Romanist, to whom his generous host often used to lend money. One day
when the pious merchant was extolling Scripture and blaming popery,
his neighbour turned pale, rose from the table, and left the room. "I
will never set foot in his house again," he said to his friends, "and
I will never borrow another shilling of him."[450] He next went to the
bishop and laid an information against his benefactor. Monmouth
forgave him, and tried to bring him back; but the neighbour constantly
turned out of his way. Once, however, they met in a street so narrow
that he could not escape. "I will pass by without looking at him,"
said the Romanist turning away his head. But Monmouth went straight to
him, took him by the hand, and said affectionately: "Neighbour, what
wrong have I done you?" and he continued to speak to him with so much
love, that the poor man fell on his knees, burst into tears, and
begged his forgiveness.[451] Such was the spirit which, at the very
outset, animated the work of the Reformation in England: it was
acceptable to God, and found favour with the people.

  [449] The rich man began to be a Scripture man. Latimer's Sermons, p.
  440 (Park. Soc.)

  [450] Latimer's Works, i. p. 441. He would borrow no [more] money of
  him.

  [451] Ibid.

Monmouth being edified by Tyndale's sermons, inquired into his means
of living. "I have none,"[452] replied he, "but I hope to enter into
the bishop's service." This was before his visit to Tonstall. When
Tyndale saw all his hopes frustrated, he went to Monmouth and told him
everything. "Come and live with me," said the wealthy merchant, "and
there labour." God did to Tyndale according to his faith. Simple,
frugal, devoted to work, he studied night and day;[453] and wishing to
guard his mind against "being overcharged with surfeiting," he refused
the delicacies of his patron's table, and would take nothing but
sodden meat and small beer.[454] It would even seem that he carried
simplicity in dress almost too far.[455] By his conversation and his
works, he shed over the house of his patron the mild light of the
Christian virtues, and Monmouth loved him more and more every day.

  [452] Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 617.

  [453] Strype, Records, i. p. 664.

  [454] Strype, Records, i. p. 664. He would eat but sodden meat and
  drink but small single beer.

  [455] He was never seen in that house to wear linen about him. Ibid.

[Sidenote: FRYTH JOINS TYNDALE.]

Tyndale was advancing in his work when John Fryth, the mathematician
of King's College, Cambridge, arrived in London. It is probable that
Tyndale, feeling the want of an associate, had invited him. United
like Luther and Melancthon, the two friends held many precious
conversations together. "I will consecrate my life wholly to the
church of Jesus Christ," said Fryth.[456] "To be a good man, you must
give great part of yourself to your parents, a greater part to your
country; but the greatest of all to the church of the Lord." "The
people should know the word of God,"[457] they said both. "The
interpretation of the gospel, without the intervention of councils or
popes, is sufficient to create a saving faith in the heart." They shut
themselves up in the little room in Monmouth's house, and translated
chapter after chapter from the Greek into plain English. The bishop of
London knew nothing of the work going on a few yards from him, and
everything was succeeding to Tyndale's wishes when it was interrupted
by an unforeseen circumstance.

  [456] Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii, p. 73, 74.

  [457] That the poor people might also read and see the simple plain
  word of God. Foxe, Acts, v, p. 118.

[Sidenote: LEARNING AND THE SCAFFOLD.]

Longland, the persecutor of the Lincolnshire Christians, did not
confine his activity within the limits of his diocese; he besieged the
king, the cardinal, and the queen with his cruel importunities, using
Wolsey's influence with Henry, and Henry's with Wolsey. "His majesty,"
he wrote to the cardinal, "shows in this holy dispute as much goodness
as zeal ... yet, be pleased to urge him to overthrow God's enemies."
And then turning to the king, the confessor said, to spur him on: "The
cardinal is about to fulminate the greater excommunication against all
who possess Luther's works or hold his opinions, and to make the
booksellers sign a bond before the magistrates, not to sell
_heretical_ books." "Wonderful!" replied Henry with a sneer, "they
will fear the magisterial bond, I think, more than the _clerical_
excommunication." And yet the consequences of the "clerical"
excommunication were to be very positive; whosoever persevered in his
offence was to be pursued by the law _ad ignem_, even to the
fire.[458] At last the confessor applied to the queen: "We cannot be
sure of restraining the press," he said to her. "These wretched books
come to us from Germany, France, and the Low Countries; and are even
printed in the very midst of us. Madam, we must train and prepare
skilful men, such as are able to discuss the controverted points, so
that the laity, struck on the one hand by well developed arguments,
and frightened by the fear of punishment on the other, may be kept in
obedience."[459] In the bishop's system, "fire" was to be the
complement of Roman learning. The essential idea of Jesuitism is
already visible in this conception of Henry the Eighth's confessor.
That system is the natural development of Romanism.

  [458] Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i. p. 42.

  [459] Anderson, Bible Annals, i. p. 42, 43. Herbert says (p. 147) "to
  suspend the laity betwixt fear and controversies."

Tonstall, urged forward by Longland, and desirous of showing himself
as holy a churchman as he had once been a skilful statesman and
elegant scholar--Tonstall, the friend of Erasmus, began to persecute.
He would have feared to shed blood, like Longland; but there are
measures which torture the mind and not the body, and which the most
moderate men fear not to make use of. John Higgins, Henry Chambers,
Thomas Eaglestone, a priest named Edmund Spilman, and some other
Christians in London, used to meet and read portions of the Bible in
English, and even asserted publicly that "Luther had more learning in
his little finger than all the doctors in England."[460] The bishop
ordered these rebels to be arrested: he flattered and alarmed them,
threatening them with a cruel death (which he would hardly have
inflicted on them), and by these skilful practices reduced them to
silence.

  [460] Foxe, Acts, v. p. 179.

Tyndale, who witnessed this persecution, feared lest the stake should
interrupt his labour. If those who read a few fragments of Scripture
are threatened with death, what will he not have to endure who is
translating the whole? His friends entreated him to withdraw from the
bishop's pursuit. "Alas!" he exclaimed, "is there then no place where
I can translate the Bible?... It is not the bishop's house alone that
is closed against me, but all England."[461]

  [461] But also that there was no place to do it in all England. Tynd.
  Doctr. Tr. 396.

[Sidenote: HIS INDIGNATION AGAINST THE PRELATES.]

He then made a great sacrifice. Since there is no place in his own
country where he can translate the word of God, he will go and seek
one among the nations of the continent. It is true the people are
unknown to him; he is without resources; perhaps persecution and even
death await him there.... It matters not! some time must elapse before
it is known what he is doing, and perhaps he will have been able to
translate the Bible. He turned his eyes towards Germany. "God does
not destine us to a quiet life here below," he said.[462] "If he calls
us to peace on the part of Jesus Christ, he calls us to war on the
part of the world."

  [462] We be not called to a soft living. Tynd. Doct. Tr. 249.

There lay at that moment in the river Thames a vessel loading for
Hamburg. Monmouth gave Tyndale ten pounds sterling for his voyage, and
other friends contributed a like amount. He left the half of this sum
in the hands of his benefactor to provide for his future wants, and
prepared to quit London, where he had spent a year. Rejected by his
fellow-countrymen, persecuted by the clergy, and carrying with him
only his New Testament and his ten pounds, he went on board the ship,
shaking off the dust of his feet, according to his Master's precept,
and that dust fell back on the priests of England. He was indignant
(says the chronicler) against those coarse monks, covetous priests,
and pompous prelates,[463] who were waging an impious war against God.
"What a trade is that of the priests!" he said in one of his later
writings; "they want money for every thing: money for baptism, money
for churchings, for weddings, for buryings, for images, brotherhoods,
penances, soul-masses, bells, organs, chalices, copes, surplices,
ewers, censers, and all manner of ornaments. Poor sheep! The parson
shears, the vicar shaves, the parish priest polls, the friar scrapes,
the indulgence seller pares ... all that you want is a butcher to flay
you and take away your skin.[464] He will not leave you long. Why are
your prelates dressed in red? Because they are ready to shed the blood
of whomsoever seeketh the word of God.[465] Scourge of states,
devastators of kingdoms, the priests take away not only Holy
Scripture, but also prosperity and peace; but of their councils is no
layman; reigning over all, they obey nobody; and making all concur to
their own greatness, they conspire against every kingdom."[466]

  [463] Marking especially the demeanour of the preachers, and beholding
  the pomp of the prelates. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 118.

  [464] Doct. Tr. p. 238. Obedience of a Chr. Man.

  [465] Ibid. p. 251.

  [466] Ibid. p. 191.

No kingdom was to be more familiar than England with the conspiracies
of the papacy of which Tyndale spoke; and yet none was to free itself
more irrevocably from the power of Rome.

Yet Tyndale was leaving the shores of his native land, and as he
turned his eyes towards the new countries, hope revived in his heart.
He was going to be free, and he would use his liberty to deliver the
word of God, so long held captive. "The priests," he said one day,
"when they had slain Christ, set poleaxes to keep him in his
sepulchre, that he should not rise again, even so have our priests
buried the testament of God, and all their study is to keep it down,
that it rise not again.[467] But the hour of the Lord is come, and
nothing can hinder the word of God, as nothing could hinder Jesus
Christ of old from issuing from the tomb." Indeed that poor man, then
sailing towards Germany, was to send back, even from the banks of the
Elbe, the eternal Gospel to his countrymen.

  [467] Tyndale, Doct. Tr. p. 251.




CHAPTER IX.

     Bilney at Cambridge--Conversions--The University
     Cross-Bearer--A Leicestershire Farmer--A Party of
     Students--Superstitious Practices--An obstinate Papist--The
     Sophists--Latimer attacks Stafford--Bilney's
     Resolution--Latimer hears Bilney's Confession--Confessor
     converted--New Life in Latimer--Bilney preaches
     Grace--Nature of the Ministry--Latimer's Character and
     Teaching--Works of Charity--Three Classes of
     Adversaries--Clark and Dalaber.


[Sidenote: BILNEY AT CAMBRIDGE.]

This ship did not bear away all the hopes of England. A society of
Christians had been formed at Cambridge, of which Bilney was the
centre. He now knew no other canon law than Scripture, and had found a
new master, "the Holy Spirit of Christ," says an historian. Although
he was naturally timid, and often suffered from the exhaustion brought
on by his fasts and vigils, there was in his language a life, liberty,
and strength, strikingly in contrast with his sickly appearance. He
desired to draw to the knowledge of God,[468] all who came nigh him;
and by degrees, the rays of the Gospel sun, which was then rising in
the firmament of Christendom, pierced the ancient windows of the
colleges, and illuminated the solitary chambers of certain of the
masters and fellows. Master Arthur, Master Thistle of Pembroke Hall,
and Master Stafford, were among the first to join Bilney. George
Stafford, professor of divinity, was a man of deep learning and holy
life, clear and precise in his teaching. He was admired by every one
in Cambridge, so that his conversion, like that of his friends, spread
alarm among the partisans of the schoolmen. But a conversion still
more striking than this was destined to give the English Reformation
a champion more illustrious than either Stafford or Bilney.

  [468] So was in his heart an incredible desire to allure many. Foxe,
  Acts, iv, p. 620.

[Sidenote: A LEICESTERSHIRE FARMER.]

There was in Cambridge, at that time, a priest notorious for his
ardent fanaticism. In the processions, amidst the pomp, prayers, and
chanting of the train, none could fail to notice a master-of-arts,
about thirty years of age, who, with erect head, carried proudly the
university cross. Hugh Latimer, for such was his name, combined a
biting humour with an impetuous disposition and indefatigable zeal,
and was very quick in ridiculing the faults of his adversaries. There
was more wit and raillery in his fanaticism than can often be found in
such characters. He followed the friends of the word of God into the
colleges and houses where they used to meet, debated with them, and
pressed them to abandon their faith. He was a second Saul, and was
soon to resemble the apostle of the Gentiles in another respect.

He first saw light in the year 1491, in the county of Leicester.
Hugh's father was an honest yeoman; and accompanied by one of his six
sisters, the little boy had often tended in the pastures the five
score sheep belonging to the farm, or driven home to his mother the
thirty cows it was her business to milk.[469] In 1497, the Cornish
rebels, under Lord Audley, having encamped at Blackheath, our farmer
had donned his rusty armour, and mounting his horse, responded to the
summons of the crown. Hugh, then only six years old, was present at
his departure, and as if he had wished to take his little part in the
battle, he had buckled the straps of his father's armour.[470]
Fifty-two years afterwards he recalled this circumstance to mind in a
sermon preached before king Edward. His father's house was always open
to the neighbours; and no poor man ever turned away from the door
without having received alms. The old man brought up his family in the
love of men and in the fear of God, and having remarked with joy the
precocious understanding of his son, he had him educated in the
country schools, and then sent to Cambridge at the age of fourteen.
This was in 1505, just as Luther was entering the Augustine convent.

  [469] My mother milked thirty kine. Latimer's Sermons, (Parker ed.) p.
  101.

  [470] I can remember that I buckled his harness. Ibid.

[Sidenote: AN OBSTINATE PAPIST.]

The son of the Leicestershire yeoman was lively, fond of pleasure, and
of cheerful conversation, and mingled frequently in the amusements of
his fellow-students. One day, as they were dining together, one of the
party exclaimed: _Nil melius quam lætari et facere bene_!--"There is
nothing better than to be merry and to do well."[471]--"A vengeance
on that _bene_!" replied a monk of impudent mien; "I wish it were
beyond the sea;[472] it mars all the rest." Young Latimer was much
surprised at the remark: "I understand it now," said he; "that will be
a heavy _bene_ to these monks when they have to render God an account
of their lives."

  [471] Eccles. iii. 12.

  [472] I would that _bene_ had been banished beyond the sea. Latimer's
  Sermons, p. 153.

Latimer having become more serious, threw himself heart and soul into
the practices of superstition, and a very bigoted old cousin undertook
to instruct him in them. One day, when one of their relations lay
dead, she said to him: "Now we must drive out the devil. Take this
holy taper, my child, and pass it over the body, first longways and
then athwart, so as always to make the sign of the cross."

But the scholar performing this exorcism very awkwardly, his aged
cousin snatched the candle from his hand, exclaiming angrily: "It's a
great pity your father spends so much money on your studies: he will
never make anything of you."[473]

  [473] Ibid. p. 499.

This prophecy was not fulfilled. He became Fellow of Clare Hall in
1509, and took his master's degree in 1514. His classical studies
being ended, he began to study divinity. Duns Scotus, Aquinas, and
Hugo de Sancto Victore were his favourite authors. The practical side
of things, however, engaged him more than the speculative; and he was
more distinguished in Cambridge for his asceticism and enthusiasm than
for his learning, He attached importance to the merest trifles. As the
missal directs that water should be mingled with the sacramental wine,
often while saying mass he would be troubled in his conscience for
fear he had not put _sufficient water_.[474] This remorse never left
him a moment's tranquillity during the service. In him, as in many
others, attachment to puerile ordinances occupied in his heart the
place of faith in the great truths. With him, the cause of the church
was the cause of God, and he respected Thomas à Becket at least as
much as St. Paul. "I was then," said he, "as obstinate a papist as any
in England."[475] Luther said the same thing of himself.

  [474] He thought he had never sufficiently mingled his massing wine
  with water. Foxe, Acts, viii, p. 433.

  [475] Ibid. p. 334.

[Sidenote: STAFFORD AND THE SOPHISTS.]

The fervent Latimer soon observed that everybody around him was not
equally zealous with himself for the ceremonies of the church. He
watched with surprise certain young members of the university who,
forsaking the doctors of the School, met daily to read and search into
the Holy Scriptures. People sneered at them in Cambridge: "It is only
the _sophists_," was the cry; but raillery was not enough for
Latimer. One day he entered the room where these _sophists_ were
assembled, and begged them to cease studying the Bible. All his
entreaties were useless. Can we be astonished at it? said Latimer to
himself. Don't we see even the tutors setting an example to these
stray sheep? There is Master Stafford, the most illustrious professor
in English universities, devoting his time _ad Biblia_, like Luther at
Wittemberg, and explaining the Scriptures according to the Hebrew and
Greek texts! and the delighted students celebrate in bad verse the
doctor,

               _Qui Paulum explicuit rite et evangelium._[476]

  [476] Who has explained to us the true sense of St. Paul and of the
  Gospel. Strype's Mem. i, p. 74.

That young people should occupy themselves with these new doctrines
was conceivable, but that a doctor of divinity should do so--what a
disgrace! Latimer therefore determined to attack Stafford. He insulted
him[477]; he entreated the youth of Cambridge to abandon the professor
and his heretical teaching; he attended the hall in which the doctor
taught, made signs of impatience during the lesson, and cavilled at it
after leaving the school. He even preached in public against the
learned doctor. But it seemed to him that Cambridge and England were
struck blind: true, the clergy approved of Latimer's proceedings--nay,
praised them; and yet they did nothing. To console him, however, he
was named cross-bearer to the university, and we have already seen him
discharging this duty.

  [477] Most spitefully railing against him. Foxe, Acts, viii, p. 437.

Latimer desired to show himself worthy of such an honour. He had left
the students to attack Stafford; and he now left Stafford for a more
illustrious adversary. But this attack led him to some one _that was
stronger than he_. At the occasion of receiving the degree of bachelor
of divinity he had to deliver a Latin discourse in the presence of the
university; Latimer chose for his subject _Philip Melancthon and his
doctrines_. Had not this daring heretic presumed to say quite recently
that the fathers of the church have altered the sense of Scripture?
Had he not asserted that, like those rocks whose various colours are
imparted to the polypus which clings to them,[478] so the doctors of
the church give each their own opinion in the passages they explain?
And finally had he not discovered a new _touch-stone_ (it is thus he
styles the Holy Scripture) by which we must test the sentences even of
St. Thomas?

  [478] Ut polypus cuicunque petræ adhæserit, ejus colorem imitatur.
  (Corp. Ref. i, p. 114.) As the polypus resembles in colour the rock to
  which it clings.

[Sidenote: LATIMER HEARS BILNEY'S CONFESSION.]

Latimer's discourse made a great impression. At last (said his
hearers) England, nay Cambridge, will furnish a champion for the
church that will confront the Wittemberg doctors, and save the vessel
of our Lord. But very different was to be the result. There was among
the hearers one man almost hidden through his small stature: it was
Bilney. For some time he had been watching Latimer's movements, and
his zeal interested him, though it was a zeal without knowledge. His
energy was not great, but he possessed a delicate tact, a skilful
discernment of character which enabled him to distinguish error, and
to select the fittest method for combating it. Accordingly, a
chronicler styles him "a trier of Satan's subtleties, appointed by God
to detect the bad money that the enemy was circulating throughout the
church."[479] Bilney easily detected Latimer's sophisms, but at the
same time loved his person, and conceived the design of winning him to
the Gospel. But how to manage it? The prejudiced Latimer would not
even listen to the evangelical Bilney. The latter reflected, prayed,
and at last planned a very candid and very strange plot, which led to
one of the most astonishing conversions recorded in history.

  [479] Foxe, Acts, vii, p. 438.

[Sidenote: THE CONFESSOR CONVERTED.]

He went to the college where Latimer resided. "For the love of God,"
he said to him, "be pleased to hear my confession."[480] The _heretic_
prayed to make confession to the _catholic_: what a singular fact! My
discourse against Melancthon has no doubt converted him, said Latimer
to himself. Had not Bilney once been among the number of the most
pious zealots? His pale face, his wasted frame, and his humble look
are clear signs that he ought to belong to the ascetics of
catholicism. If he turns back, all will turn back with him, and the
reaction will be complete at Cambridge. The ardent Latimer eagerly
yielded to Bilney's request, and the latter, kneeling before the
cross-bearer, related to him with touching simplicity the anguish he
had once felt in his soul, the efforts he had made to remove it; their
unprofitableness so long as he determined to follow the precepts of
the church, and lastly, the peace he had felt when he believed that
Jesus Christ is _the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the
world_. He described to Latimer the spirit of adoption he had
received, and the happiness he experienced in being able now to call
God his father.... Latimer, who expected to receive a confession,
listened without mistrust. His heart was opened, and the voice of the
pious Bilney penetrated it without obstacle. From time to time the
confessor would have chased away the new thoughts which came crowding
into his bosom; but the penitent continued. His language, at once so
simple and so lively, entered like a two-edged sword. Bilney was not
without assistance in his work. A new, a strange witness,--the Holy
Ghost,[481]--was speaking in Latimer's soul. He learned from God to
know God: he received a new heart. At length grace prevailed: the
penitent rose up, but Latimer remained seated, absorbed in thought.
The strong cross-bearer contended in vain against the words of the
feeble Bilney. Like Saul on the way to Damascus, he was conquered, and
his conversion, like the apostle's, was instantaneous. He stammered
out a few words; Bilney drew near him with love, and God scattered the
darkness which still obscured his mind. He saw Jesus Christ as the
only Saviour given to man: he contemplated and adored him. "I learnt
more by this confession," he said afterwards, "than by much reading
and in many years before[482].... I now tasted the word of God,[483]
and forsook the doctors of the school and all their fooleries."[484]
It was not the penitent but the confessor who received absolution.
Latimer viewed with horror the obstinate war he had waged against God;
he wept bitterly; but Bilney consoled him. "Brother," said he, "though
your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow." These two young
men, then locked in their solitary chamber at Cambridge, were one day
to mount the scaffold for that divine Master whose spirit was teaching
them. But one of them before going to the stake was first to sit on an
episcopal throne.

  [480] He came to me afterwards in my study, and desired me for God's
  sake to hear his confession. Latimer's Sermons, p. 334.

  [481] He was through the good Spirit of God so touched. Foxe, viii, p.
  438.

  [482] Latimer's Sermons, p. 334.

  [483] From that time forward I began to smell the word of God. Ibid.

  [484] Ibid. p. 335.

Latimer was changed. The energy of his character was tempered by a
divine unction. Becoming a believer, he had ceased to be
superstitious. Instead of persecuting Jesus Christ, he became a
zealous seeker after him.[485] Instead of cavilling and railing, he
showed himself meek and gentle;[486] instead of frequenting company,
he sought solitude, studying the Scriptures and advancing in true
theology. He threw off the old man and put on the new. He waited upon
Stafford, begged forgiveness for the insult he had offered him, and
then regularly attended his lectures, being subjugated more by this
doctor's angelic conversation[487] than by his learning. But it was
Bilney's society Latimer cultivated most. They conversed together
daily, took frequent walks together into the country, and occasionally
rested at a place, long known as "the heretic's hill."[488]

  [485] Whereas before he was an enemy and almost a persecutor of
  Christ, he was now a zealous seeker after him. Foxe, Acts, vii, p.
  338.

  [486] Ibid.

  [487] A man of a very perfect life and angelic conversation. Becon's
  Works (Parker Soc.) p. 425.

  [488] Foxe, viii, p. 452.

[Sidenote: BILNEY PREACHES GRACE.]

So striking a conversion gave fresh vigour to the evangelical
movement. Hitherto Bilney and Latimer had been the most zealous
champions of the two opposite causes; the one despised, the other
honoured; the weak man had conquered the strong. This action of the
Spirit of God was not thrown away upon Cambridge. Latimer's
conversion, as of old the miracles of the apostles, struck men's
minds; and was it not in truth a miracle? All the youth of the
university ran to hear Bilney preach. He proclaimed "Jesus Christ as
He who, having tasted death, has delivered his people from the penalty
of sin."[489] While the doctors of the school (even the most pious of
them) laid most stress upon _man's_ part in the work of redemption,
Bilney on the contrary emphasized the other term, namely, _God's_
part. This doctrine of grace, said his adversaries, annuls the
sacraments, and contradicts baptismal regeneration. The selfishness
which forms the essence of fallen humanity rejected the evangelical
doctrine, and felt that to accept it was to be lost. "Many listened
with _the left ear_," to use an expression of Bilney's; "like Malchus,
having their _right_ ear cut off;" and they filled the university with
their complaints.

  [489] Christus quem pro virili doceo.....denique et satisfactionem.
  Ep. ad Tonstallum episcop. Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 633.

But Bilney did not allow himself to be stopped. The idea of eternity
had seized on his mind, and perhaps he still retained some feeble
relic of the exaggeration of asceticism. He condemned every kind of
recreation, even when innocent. Music in the churches seemed to him a
mockery of God;[490] and when Thurlby, who was afterwards a bishop,
and who lived at Cambridge in the room below his, used to begin
playing on the recorder, Bilney would fall on his knees and pour out
his soul in prayer: to him prayer was the sweetest melody. He prayed
that the lively faith of the children of God might in all England be
substituted for the vanity and pride of the priests. He believed--he
prayed--he waited. His waiting was not to be in vain.

  [490] Ibid. p. 621.

[Sidenote: NATURE OF THE MINISTRY.]

Latimer trod in his footsteps: the transformation of his soul was
going on; and the more fanaticism he had shown for the sacerdotal
system, which places salvation in the hands of the priest, the more
zeal he now showed for the evangelical system, which placed it in the
hands of Christ. He saw that if the churches must needs have
ministers, it is not because they require a human mediation, but from
the necessity of a regular preaching of the Gospel and a steady
direction of the flock; and accordingly he would have wished to call
the servant of the Lord _minister_ ([Greek word] or [Greek text]),
and not _priest_,[491] ([Greek word] or _sacerdos_.) In his view, it
was not the imposition of hands by the bishop that gave grace, but
grace which authorized the imposition of hands. He considered
activity to be one of the essential features of the Gospel ministry.
"Would you know," said he, "why the Lord chose _fishermen_ to be his
apostles?... See how they watch day and night at their nets to take
all such fishes that they can get and come in their way.... So all
our bishops, and curates, and vicars should be as painful in casting
their nets, that is to say, in preaching God's word."[492] He
regarded all confidence in human strength as a remnant of paganism.
"Let us not do," he said, "as the haughty Ajax, who said to his
father as he went to battle: Without the help of God I am able to
fight, and I will get the victory with mine own strength."[493]

  [491] Minister is a more fit name for that office. Latimer's remains,
  p. 264.

  [492] Ibid. p. 24.

  [493] Latimer's Sermons, p. 491. Sophocles, Ajax, 783, et seq.

The Reformation had gained in Latimer a very different man from
Bilney. He had not so much discernment and prudence perhaps, but he
had more energy and eloquence. What Tyndale was to be for England by
his writings, Latimer was to be by his discourses. The tenderness of
his conscience, the warmth of his zeal, and the vivacity of his
understanding, were enlisted in the service of Jesus Christ; and if at
times he was carried too far by the liveliness of his wit, it only
shows that the reformers were not _saints_, but sanctified men. "He
was one of the first," says an historian, "who, in the days of king
Henry VIII, set himself to preach the Gospel in the truth and
simplicity of it."[494] He preached in Latin _ad clerum_, and in
English _ad populum_. He boldly placed the law with its curses before
his hearers, and then conjured them to flee towards the Saviour of the
world.[495] The same zeal which he had employed in saying mass, he now
employed in preaching the true sacrifice of Christ. He said one
day:--"If one man had committed all the sins since Adam, you may be
sure he should be punished with the same horror of death, in such a
sort as all men in the world should have suffered.... Such was the
pain Christ endured.... If our Saviour had committed all the sins of
the world; all that I for my part have done, all that you for your
part have done, and all that any man else hath done; if he had done
all this himself, his agony that he suffered should have been no
greater nor grievouser than it was.... Believe in Jesus Christ, and
you shall overcome death.... But, alas!" said he at another time, "the
devil, by the help of that Italian bishop, his chaplain, has laboured
by all means that he might frustrate the death of Christ and the
merits of his passion."[496]

  [494] Strype's Mem. iii, part i, p. 378.

  [495] Flying to him by an evangelical faith. Ibid.

  [496] Lat. Ser. p. 74.

[Sidenote: WORKS OF CHARITY.]

Thus began in British Christendom the preaching of the Cross. The
Reformation was not the substitution of the catholicism of the first
ages for the popery of the middle ages: it was a revival of the
preaching of St. Paul, and thus it was that on hearing Latimer every
one exclaimed with rapture: "Of a _Saul_, God has made him a very
_Paul_."[497]

  [497] This was said by Ralph Morice, afterwards Cranmer's secretary.
  Strype, Eccl. Mem. iii, part i, p. 368.

To the inward power of faith, the Cambridge evangelists added the
outward power of the life. Saul become Paul, the strong, the ardent
Latimer, had need of action; and Bilney, the weak and humble Bilney,
in delicate health, observing a severe diet, taking ordinarily but one
meal a-day, and never sleeping more than four hours, absorbed in
prayer and in the study of the word, displayed at that time all the
energy of charity. These two friends devoted themselves not merely to
the easy labours of Christian beneficence; but caring little for that
formal Christianity so often met with among the easy classes, they
explored the gloomy cells of the madhouse to bear the sweet and subtle
voice of the gospel to the infuriate maniacs. They visited the
miserable lazar-house without the town, in which several poor lepers
were dwelling; they carefully tended them, wrapped them in clean
sheets, and wooed them to be converted to Christ.[498] The gates of
the jail at Cambridge were opened to them,[499] and they announced to
the poor prisoners that word which giveth liberty. Some were converted
by it, and longed for the day of their execution.[500] Latimer,
afterwards bishop of Worcester, was one of the most beautiful types of
the Reformation in England.

  [498] Preaching at the lazar cots, wrapping them in sheets. Foxe,
  Acts, vol. iv, p. 620. Lond. 1846.

  [499] Latimer's Sermons, p. 335. (Park. Soc.)

  [500] She had such a savour, such a sweetness, and feeling, that she
  thought it long to the day of execution. Ibid. p. 180.

[Sidenote: WORLDLINESS AND BRUTALITY.]

He was opposed by numerous adversaries. In the front rank were the
priests, who spared no endeavours to retain souls. "Beware," said
Latimer to the new converts, "lest robbers overtake you, and plunge
you into the pope's prison of purgatory."[501] After these came the
sons and favourites of the aristocracy, worldly and frivolous
students, who felt little disposition to listen to the gospel. "By
yeomen's sons the faith of Christ is and hath been chiefly maintained
in the church,"[502] said Latimer. "Is this realm taught by rich men's
sons? No, no; read the chronicles; ye shall find sometime noblemen's
sons which have been unpreaching bishops and prelates, but ye shall
find none of them learned men." He would have desired a mode of
election which placed in the Christian pulpit, not the richest and
most fashionable men, but the ablest and most pious. This important
reform was reserved for other days. Lastly, the evangelists of
Cambridge came into collision with the _brutality_ of many, to use
Latimer's own expression. "What need have we of universities and
schools?" said the students of this class. The Holy Ghost "will give
us always what to say."--"We must trust in the Holy Ghost," replied
Latimer, "but not presume on it. If you will not maintain
universities, you shall have a _brutality_."[503] In this manner the
Reformation restored to Cambridge gravity and knowledge, along with
truth and charity.

  [501] Strype's Eccles. Memorials, vol. iii, pt. i, p. 378.

  [502] Latimer's Sermons, p. 102.

  [503] Ibid. p. 269.

[Sidenote: PERSECUTION SUSPENDED.]

Yet Bilney and Latimer often turned their eyes towards Oxford, and
wondered how the light would be able to penetrate there. Wolsey
provided for that. A Cambridge master of arts, John Clark, a
conscientious man, of tender heart, great prudence, and unbounded
devotion to his duty, had been enlightened by the word of God. Wolsey,
who since 1523 had been seeking every where for distinguished scholars
to adorn his new college, invited Clark among the first. This doctor,
desirous of bearing to Oxford the light which God had given Cambridge,
immediately began to deliver a course of divinity lectures, to hold
conferences, and to preach in his eloquent manner. He taught every
day.[504] Among the graduates and students who followed him was
Anthony Dalaber, a young man of simple but profound feeling, who while
listening to him had experienced in his heart the regenerating power
of the Gospel. Overflowing with the happiness which the knowledge of
Jesus Christ imparted to him, he went to the Cardinal's college,
knocked at Clark's door, and said: "Father, allow me never to quit you
more!" The teacher, beholding the young disciple's enthusiasm, loved
him, but thought it his duty to try him: "Anthony," said he, "you know
not what you ask. My teaching is now pleasant to you, but the time
will come when God will lay the cross of persecution on you; you will
be dragged before bishops; your name will be covered with shame in the
world, and all who love you will be heart-broken on account of you....
Then, my friend, you will regret that you ever knew me."

  [504] Teach or preach, which he did daily. Foxe, Acts, v, p. 426.

Anthony believing himself rejected, and unable to bear the idea of
returning to the barren instructions of the priests, fell on his
knees, and weeping bitterly,[505] exclaimed: "For the tender mercy of
God, turn me not away." Touched by his sorrow, Clark folded him in his
arms, kissed him, and with tears in his eyes exclaimed: "The Lord give
thee what thou askest!... Take me for thy father, I take thee for my
son." From that hour Anthony, all joy, was like Timothy at the feet of
Paul. He united a quick understanding with tender affections. When any
of the students had not attended Clark's conferences, the master
commissioned his disciple to visit them, to inquire into their doubts,
and to impart to them his instructions. "This exercise did me much
good," said Dalaber, "and I made great progress in the knowledge of
Scripture."

  [505] Foxe, Acts, v, p. 426.

Thus the kingdom of God, which consists not in forms, but in the power
of the Spirit, was set up in Cambridge and Oxford. The alarmed
schoolmen, beholding their most pious scholars escaping one after
another from their teaching, called the bishops to their aid, and the
latter determined to send agents to Cambridge, the focus of the
heresy, to apprehend the leaders. This took place in 1523 or the
beginning of 1524. The episcopal officers had arrived, and were
proceeding to business. The most timid began to feel alarm, but
Latimer was full of courage; when suddenly the agents of the clergy
were forbidden to go on, and this prohibition, strange to say,
originated with Wolsey; "upon what ground I cannot imagine," says
Burnet.[506] Certain events were taking place at Rome of a nature to
exercise great influence over the priestly councils, and which may
perhaps explain what Burnet could not understand.

  [506] History of the Reformation, vol. i, p. 25. Lond. 1841.




CHAPTER X.

     Wolsey seeks the Tiara--Clement VII is elected--Wolsey's
     dissimulation--Charles offers France to Henry--Pace's
     Mission on this Subject--Wolsey reforms the Convents--His
     secret Alliances--Treaty between France and
     England--Taxation and Insurrection--False Charges against
     the Reformers--Latimer's Defence--Tenterden Steeple.


[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S AMBITION.]

Adrian VI died on the 14th September 1523, before the end of the
second year of his pontificate. Wolsey thought himself pope. At length
he would no longer be the favourite only, but the arbiter of the kings
of the earth; and his genius, for which England was too narrow, would
have Europe and the world for its stage. Already revolving gigantic
projects in his mind, the future pope dreamt of the destruction of
heresy in the west, and in the east the cessation of the Greek schism,
and new crusades to replant the cross on the walls of Constantinople.
There is nothing that Wolsey would not have dared undertake when once
seated on the throne of catholicism, and the pontificates of Gregory
VII and Innocent III would have been eclipsed by that of the Ipswich
butcher's son. The cardinal reminded Henry of his promise, and the
very next day the king signed a letter addressed to Charles the Fifth.

Believing himself sure of the emperor, Wolsey turned all his exertions
to the side of Rome. "The legate of England," said Henry's ambassadors
to the cardinals, "is the very man for the present time. He is the
only one thoroughly acquainted with the interests and wants of
Christendom, and strong enough to provide for them. He is all
kindness, and will share his dignities and wealth among all the
prelates who support him."

But Julio de' Medici himself aspired to the papacy, and as eighteen
cardinals were devoted to him, the election could not take place
without his support. "Rather than yield," said he in the conclave, "I
would die in this prison." A month passed away, and nothing was done.
New intrigues were then resorted to: there were cabals for Wolsey,
cabals for Medici. The cardinals were besieged:

    Into their midst, by many a secret path,
    Creeps sly intrigue.[507]

  [507] Un conclave, by C. Delavigne.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S DISSIMULATION.]

At length, on the 19th November 1523, the people collected under their
windows, shouting: "No foreign pope." After forty-nine days debating,
Julio was elected, and according to his own expression, "bent his head
beneath the yoke of apostolic servitude."[508] He took the name of
Clement VII.

  [508] Colla subjecimus jugo apostolicæ servitutis. (Rymer, Foedera, vi,
  2, p. 7.) We bent our neck under the yoke of apostolic servitude.

Wolsey was exasperated. It was in vain that he presented himself
before St. Peter's chair at each vacancy: a more active or more
fortunate rival always reached it before him. Master of England, and
the most influential of European diplomatists, he saw men preferred to
him who were his inferiors. This election was an event for the
Reformation. Wolsey as pope would, humanly speaking, have tightened
the cords which already bound England so closely to Rome; but Wolsey,
rejected, could hardly fail to throw himself into tortuous paths which
would perhaps contribute to the emancipation of the Church. He became
more crafty than ever; declared to Henry that the new election was
quite in conformity with his wishes,[509] and hastened to congratulate
the new pope. He wrote to his agents at Rome: "This election, I assure
you, is as much to the king's and my rejoicing, consolation, and
gladness, as possibly may be devised or imagined.... Ye shall show
unto his holiness what joy, comfort, and gladness it is both to the
king's highness and me to perceive that once in our lives it hath
pleased God of his great goodness to provide such a pastor unto his
church, as his grace and I have long inwardly desired; who for his
virtue, wisdom, and other high and notable qualities, we have always
reputed the most able and worthy person to be called to that
dignity."[510] But the pope, divining his competitor's vexation, sent
the king a golden rose, and a ring to Wolsey. "I am sorry," he said as
he drew it from his finger, "that I cannot present it to his eminence
in person." Clement moreover conferred on him the quality of legate
_for life_--an office which had hitherto been temporary only. Thus the
popedom and England embraced each other, and nothing appeared more
distant than that Christian revolution which was destined very shortly
to emancipate Britain from the tutelage of the Vatican.

  [509] I take God to witness, I am more joyous thereof, than if it had
  fortuned upon my person. Wolsey to Henry VIII. Burnet, Records, p.
  cccxxviii. (Lond. 1841.)

  [510] Wolsey to Secretary Pace. Galt's Wolsey, p. 381, Appendix.
  (Lond. 1846.)

[Sidenote: PACE'S EMBASSY.]

Wolsey's disappointed ambition made him suspend the proceedings of the
clergy at Cambridge. He had revenge in his heart, and cared not to
persecute his fellow-countrymen merely to please his rival; and
besides, like several popes, he had a certain fondness for learning.
To send a few Lollards to prison was a matter of no difficulty; but
learned doctors ... this required a closer examination. Hence he gave
Rome a sign of independence. And yet it was not specially against the
pope that he began to entertain sinister designs: Clement had been
more fortunate than himself; but that was no reason why he should be
angry with him.... Charles V was the offender, and Wolsey swore a
deadly hatred against him. Resolved to strike, he sought only the
place where he could inflict the severest blow. To obtain his end, he
resolved to dissemble his passion, and to distil drop by drop into
Henry's mind that mortal hatred against Charles, which gave fresh
energy to his activity.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY REFORMS THE MONASTERIES.]

Charles discovered the indignation that lay hid under Wolsey's
apparent mildness, and wishing to retain Henry's alliance, he made
more pressing advances to the king. Having deprived the minister of a
tiara, he resolved to offer the king a crown: this was, indeed, a
noble compensation! "You are king of France," the emperor said, "and I
undertake to win your kingdom for you.[511] Only send an ambassador to
Italy to negotiate the matter." Wolsey, who could hardly contain his
vexation, was forced to comply, in appearance at least, with the
emperor's views. The king, indeed, seemed to think of nothing but his
arrival at St. Germain's, and commissioned Pace to visit Italy for
this important business. Wolsey hoped that he would be unable to
execute his commission; it was impossible to cross the Alps, for the
French troops blockaded every passage. But Pace, who was one of those
adventurous characters whom nothing can stop, spurred on by the
thought that the king himself had sent him, determined to cross the
_Col di Tenda_. On the 27th July, he entered the mountains, traversed
precipitous passes, sometimes climbing them on all-fours,[512] and
often falling during the descent. In some places he could ride on
horseback; "but in the most part thereof I durst not either turn my
horse traverse (he wrote to the king) for all the worldly riches, nor
in manner look on my left hand, for the pronite and deepness to the
valley." After this passage, which lasted six days, Pace arrived in
Italy worn out by fatigue. "If the king of England will enter France
immediately by way of Normandy," said the constable of Bourbon to
him, "I will give him leave to pluck out both my eyes[513] if he is
not master of Paris before All-Saints; and when Paris is taken, he
will be master of the whole kingdom." But Wolsey, to whom these
remarks were transmitted by the ambassador, slighted them, delayed
furnishing the subsidies, and required certain conditions which were
calculated to thwart the project. Pace, who was ardent and ever
imprudent, but plain and straightforward, forgot himself, and in a
moment of vexation wrote to Wolsey: "To speak frankly, if you do not
attend to these things, I shall impute to your grace the loss of the
crown of France." These words ruined Henry's envoy in the cardinal's
mind. Was this man, who owed every thing to him, trying to supplant
him?... Pace in vain assured Wolsey that he should not take seriously
what he had said, but the bolt had hit. Pace was associated with
Charles in the cruel enmity of the minister, and he was one day to
feel its terrible effects. It was not long before Wolsey was able to
satisfy himself that the service Charles had desired to render the
king of England was beyond the emperor's strength.

  [511] Ellis' Letters. Second Series, p. 326, 327.

  [512] It made us creep of all-four. Pace to the king, Strype, vol. i,
  part ii, p. 27.

  [513] Cotton MSS. Vitellius, B. 6. p. 87.

No sooner at ease on one side, than Wolsey found himself attacked on
another. This man, the most powerful among kings' favourites, felt at
this time the first breath of disfavour blow over him. On the
pontifical throne, he would no doubt have attempted a reform after the
manner of Sixtus V; and wishing to rehearse on a smaller stage, and
regenerate after his own fashion the catholic church in England, he
submitted the monasteries to a strict inquisition, patronized the
instruction of youth, and was the first to set a great example, by
suppressing certain religious houses whose revenues he applied to his
college in Oxford. Thomas Cromwell, his solicitor, displayed much
skill and industry in this business,[514] and thus, under the orders
of a cardinal of the Roman church, made his first campaign in a war of
which he was in later days to hold the chief command. Wolsey and
Cromwell, by their reforms, drew down the hatred of certain monks,
priests, and noblemen, always the very humble servants of the clerical
party. The latter accused the cardinal of not having estimated the
monasteries at their just value, and of having, in certain cases,
encroached on the royal jurisdiction. Henry, whom the loss of the
crown of France had put in a bad humour, resolved, for the first time,
not to spare his minister: "There are loud murmurs throughout this
kingdom," he said to him; "it is asserted that your new college at
Oxford is only a convenient cloak to hide your malversations."[515]
"God forbid," replied the cardinal, "that this virtuous foundation at
Oxford, undertaken for the good of my poor soul, should be raised _ex
rapinis_! But, above all, God forbid that I should ever encroach upon
your royal authority." He then cunningly insinuated, that by his will
he left all his property to the king. Henry was satisfied: he had a
share in the business.

  [514] Very forward and industrious. Foxe, Acts. v. p. 366.

  [515] Collier's Eccles. Hist. x, p. 20.

Events of very different importance drew the king's attention to
another quarter. The two armies, of the empire and of France, were in
presence before Pavia. Wolsey, who openly gave his right hand to
Charles V, and secretly his left to Francis, repeated to his master:
"If the emperor gains the victory, are you not his ally? and if
Francis, am I not in secret communication with him?"[516] "Thus,"
added the cardinal, "whatever happens, your Highness will have great
cause to give thanks to Almighty God."

  [516] By such communications as he set forth with France apart. State
  Papers, i, p. 158.

[Sidenote: ALLIANCE BETWEEN FRANCE AND ENGLAND.]

On the 24th of February 1525, the battle of Pavia was fought, and the
imperialists found in the French king's tent several of Wolsey's
letters, and in his military chest and in the pockets of his soldiers
the cardinal's corrupting gold. This alliance had been contrived by
Giovanni Gioacchino, a Genoese master of the household to Louisa,
regent of France, who passed for a merchant of Bologna, and lived in
concealment at Blackfriars. Charles now saw what he had to trust to;
but the news of the battle of Pavia had scarcely reached England,
when, faithful in perfidy, Wolsey gave utterance to a feigned
pleasure. The people rejoiced also, but they were in earnest. Bonfires
were lighted in the streets of London; the fountains ran wine, and the
lord-mayor, attended by the aldermen, passed through the city on
horseback to the sound of the trumpet.

The cardinal's joy was not altogether false. He would have been
pleased at his enemy's defeat; but his victory was perhaps still more
useful to him.

He said to Henry: "The emperor is a liar observing neither faith nor
promise: the Archduchess Margaret is a woman of evil life;[517] Don
Ferdinand is a child, and Bourbon a traitor. Sire, you have other
things to do with your money than to squander it on these four
individuals. Charles is aiming at universal monarchy; Pavia is the
first step of this throne, and if England does not oppose him, he
will attain it." Joachim having come privily to London, Wolsey
prevailed upon Henry to conclude between England and France an
"_indissoluble peace_ by land and sea."[518] At last then he was in a
position to prove to Charles that it is a dangerous thing to oppose
the ambition of a priest.

  [517] Milady Margaret was a ribaud. Cotton MSS. Vesp. C. 3, p. 55.

  [518] Sincera fidelis, firma et indissolubilis pax. (Rymer, Foedera, p.
  32, 33.) A sincere, faithful, firm and indissoluble peace.

[Sidenote: NEW TAXES AND INSURRECTION.]

This was not the only advantage Wolsey derived from the triumph of his
enemy. The citizens of London imagined that the king of England would
be in a few weeks in Paris; Wolsey, rancorous and grasping, determined
to make them pay dearly for their enthusiasm. "You desire to conquer
France," said he; "you are right. Give me then for that purpose the
sixth part of your property; that is a trifle to gratify so noble an
inclination." England did not think so; this illegal demand aroused
universal complaint. "We are English and not French, freemen and not
slaves,"[519] was the universal cry. Henry might tyrannize over his
court, but not lay hands on his subjects property.

  [519] Hall's Chronicle, p. 696. If men should give their goods by a
  commission, then were it worse than the taxes of France; and so
  England would be bond and not free.

The eastern counties rose in insurrection: four thousand men were
under arms in a moment; and Henry was guarded in his own palace by
only a few servants. It was necessary to break down the bridges to
stop the insurgents.[520] The courtiers complained to the king; the
king threw the blame on the cardinal; the cardinal laid it on the
clergy, who had encouraged him to impose this tax by quoting to him
the example of Joseph demanding of the Egyptians the fifth part of
their goods; and the clergy in their turn ascribed the insurrection to
the gospellers, who (said they) were stirring up a peasant war in
England, as they had done in Germany. Reformation produces revolution:
this is the favourite text of the followers of the pope. Violent hands
must be laid upon the heretics. _Non pluit Deus, duc ad
christianos._[521]

  [520] Ibid.

  [521] "God sends no rain ... lead us against the Christians." A cry
  ascribed by Augustine to the pagans of the first ages.

[Sidenote: TENTERDEN STEEPLE.]

The charge of the priests was absurd; but the people are blind
whenever the Gospel is concerned, and occasionally the governors are
blind also. Serious reasoning was not necessary to confute this
invention. "Here, by the way, I will tell you a merry toy," said
Latimer one day in the pulpit. "Master More was once sent in
commission into Kent to help to try out, if it might be, what was the
cause of Goodwin Sands and the shelf that stopped up Sandwich haven.
He calleth the country afore him, such as were thought to be men of
experience, and among others came in an old man with a white head, and
one that was thought to be little less than one hundred years old. So
Master More called the old aged man unto him, and said: Father, tell
me if you can, what is the cause of this great arising of the sands
and shelves hereabout, that stop up Sandwich haven? Forsooth, Sir,
(quoth he) I am an old man, for I am well-nigh an hundred, and I think
that Tenterden steeple is the cause of the Goodwin Sands. For I am an
old man, Sir, and I may remember the building of Tenterden steeple,
and before that steeple was in building, there was no manner of flats
or sands." After relating this anecdote, Latimer slyly added: "Even
so, to my purpose, is preaching of God's word the cause of rebellion,
as Tenterden steeple was the cause Sandwich haven is decayed."[522]

  [522] Latimer's Sermons, vol. i. p. 251.

There was no persecution: there was something else to be done. Wolsey,
feeling certain that Charles had obstructed his accession to the
popedom, thought only in what manner he might take his revenge. But
during this time Tyndale also was pursuing his aim; and the year 1525,
memorable for the battle of Pavia, was destined to be no less so in
the British isles, by a still more important victory.




CHAPTER XI.

     Tyndale at Hamburg--First two
     Gospels--Embarrassment--Tyndale at Wittemberg--At
     Cologne--The New Testament at Press--Sudden
     Interruption--Cochloeus at Cologne--Rupert's
     Manuscripts--Discovery of Cochloeus--His Inquiries--His
     Alarm--Rincke and the Senate's Prohibition--Consternation
     and Decision of Tyndale--Cochloeus writes to England--Tyndale
     ascends the Rhine--Prints two Editions at Worms--Tyndale's
     Prayer.


[Sidenote: TYNDALE AT HAMBURG.]

The ship which carried Tyndale and his MSS. cast anchor at Hamburg,
where, since the year 1521, the Gospel had counted numerous friends.
Encouraged by the presence of his brethren, the Oxford fellow had
taken a quiet lodging in one of the narrow winding streets of that old
city, and had immediately resumed his task. A secretary, whom he
terms his "faithful companion,"[523] aided him in collating texts; but
it was not long before this brother, whose name is unknown to us,
thinking himself called to preach Christ in places where He had as yet
never been proclaimed, left Tyndale. A former friar-observant of the
Franciscan order at Greenwich, having abandoned the cloister, and
being at this time without resources, offered his services to the
Hellenist. William Roye was one of those men (and they are always
pretty numerous) whom impatience of the yoke alienates from Rome
without their being attracted by the Spirit of God to Christ. Acute,
insinuating, crafty, and yet of pleasing manners, he charmed all those
who had mere casual relations with him. Tyndale banished to the
distant shores of the Elbe, surrounded by strange customs, and hearing
only a foreign tongue, often thought of England, and was impatient
that his country should enjoy the result of his labours: he accepted
Roye's aid. The Gospels of Matthew and Mark, translated and printed at
Hamburg, became, it would seem, the first fruits to England of his
great task.

  [523] Tyndale's Doctr. Treatises, p. 37.

But Tyndale was soon overwhelmed by annoyances. Roye, who was pretty
manageable while he had no money, had become intractable now that his
purse was less empty.[524] What was to be done? The reformer having
spent the ten pounds he had brought from England, could not satisfy
the demands of his assistant, pay his own debts, and remove to another
city. He became still more sparing and economical. The Wartburg, in
which Luther had translated the New Testament, was a palace in
comparison with the lodging in which the reformer of wealthy England
endured hunger and cold, while toiling day and night to give the
Gospel to the English Christians.

  [524] Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i, 49.

About the end of 1524, Tyndale sent the two Gospels to Monmouth; and a
merchant named John Collenbeke, having brought him the ten pounds he
had left in the hands of his old patron, he prepared to depart
immediately.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE AT COLOGNE.]

Where should he go? Not to England; he must complete his task before
all things. Could he be in Luther's neighbourhood and not desire to
see him? He needed not the Saxon reformer either to find the truth,
which he had already known at Oxford, or to undertake the translation
of the Scriptures, which he had already begun in the vale of the
Severn. But did not all evangelical foreigners flock to Wittemberg? To
remove all doubt as to the interview of the reformers, it would be
desirable perhaps to find some trace at Wittemberg[525] either in the
university registers or in the writings of the Saxon reformers. Yet
several contemporaneous testimonies seem to give a sufficient degree
of probability to this conference. Foxe tells us: "He had an interview
with Luther and other learned men of that country."[526] This must
have been in the spring of 1525.

  [525] I requested a German divine to investigate this matter, but his
  researches were unsuccessful.

  [526] Mr. Anderson, in his excellent work (Annals of the English
  Bible, vol. i. p. 47) disputes the interview between these two
  reformers, but his arguments do not convince me. We can understand how
  Luther, at that time busily engaged in his dispute with Carlstadt,
  does not mention Tyndale's visit in his letters. But, besides Foxe,
  there are other contemporaneous authorities in favour of this fact.
  Cochlæus, a German well informed on all the movements of the
  reformers, and whom we shall presently see on Tyndale's traces, says
  of him and Roye: "Duo Angli apostatæ, _qui aliquamdiu fuerant
  Vuitenbergæ_." Two English apostates, who had been for a while at
  Wittemberg. (p. 123). And Sir Thomas More, having said that Tyndale
  had gone to see Luther, Tyndale was content to reply: "When Mr. More
  saith Tyndale was confederate with Luther, that is not truth." Answer
  to Sir Thos. More's Dialogue, p. 147 (Park. Soc.) He denied the
  _confederation_, but not the _visit_. If Tyndale had not seen Luther,
  he would have been more explicit, and would probably have said that he
  had never even met him.

Tyndale, desirious of drawing nearer to his native country, turned his
eyes towards the Rhine. There were at Cologne some celebrated printers
well known in England, and among others Quentel and the Byrckmans.
Francis Byrckman had warehouses in St. Paul's churchyard in London,--a
circumstance that might facilitate the introduction and sale of the
Testament printed on the banks of the Rhine. This providential
circumstance decided Tyndale in favour of Cologne, and thither he
repaired with Roye and his MSS. Arrived in the gloomy streets of the
city of Agrippina, he contemplated its innumerable churches, and above
all its ancient cathedral re-echoing to the voices of its canons, and
was oppressed with sorrow as he beheld the priests and monks and
mendicants and pilgrims who, from all parts of Europe, poured in to
adore the pretended relics of the _three wise men_ and of the _eleven
thousand virgins_. And then Tyndale asked himself whether it was
really in this superstitious city that the New Testament was to be
printed in English. This was not all. The Reform movement then at work
in Germany had broken out at Cologne during the feast of Whitsuntide,
and the archbishop had just forbidden all evangelical worship. Yet
Tyndale persevered, and submitting to the most minute precautions, not
to compromise his work, he took an obscure lodging where he kept
himself closely hidden.

Soon however, trusting in God, he called on the printer, presented his
manuscripts to him, ordered six thousand copies, and then, upon
reflection, sank down to three thousand for fear of a seizure.[527]
The printing went on; one sheet followed another; gradually the Gospel
unfolded its mysteries in the English tongue, and Tyndale could not
contain himself for very joy.[528] He saw in his mind's eye the
triumphs of the Scriptures over all the kingdom, and exclaimed with
transport: "Whether the king wills it or not, ere long all the people
of England, enlightened by the New Testament, will obey the
Gospel."[529]

  [527] Sex millia sub prælum dari. (Cochlæus, p. 123.) That six
  thousand should be printed.

  [528] Tanta ex ea spe lætitia Lutheranos invasit. (Ibid. p. 124.) Such
  joy possessed the Lutherans from that hope.

  [529] Cunctos Angliæ populos, volente nolente rege. Ibid. 123.

But on a sudden that sun whose earliest beams he had hailed with songs
of joy, was hidden by thick clouds. One day, just as the tenth sheet
had been thrown off, the printer hastened to Tyndale, and informed him
that the senate of Cologne forbade him to continue the work. Every
thing was discovered then. No doubt Henry VIII, who has burnt Luther's
books, wishes to burn the New Testament also, to destroy Tyndale's
manuscripts, and deliver him up to death. Who had betrayed him? He was
lost in unavailing conjectures, and one thing only appeared certain:
alas! his vessel, which was moving onwards in full sail, had struck
upon a reef! The following is the explanation of this unexpected
incident.

[Sidenote: COCHLÆUS AT COLOGNE.]

A man whom we have often met with in the course of this history,[530]
one of the most violent enemies of the Reformation--we mean
Cochlæus--had arrived in Cologne. The wave of popular agitation which
had stirred this city during the Whitsuntide holidays, had previously
swept over Frankfort during the festival of Easter; and the dean of
Notre-dame, taking advantage of a moment when the gates of the city
were open, had escaped a few minutes before the burghers entered his
house to arrest him. On arriving at Cologne, where he hoped to live
unknown under the shadow of the powerful elector, he had gone to lodge
with George Lauer, a canon in the church of the Apostles.

  [530] Book ix, chapter xii, etc.

By a singular destiny the two most opposite men, Tyndale and Cochlæus,
were in hiding in the same city; they could not long remain there
without coming into collision.

[Sidenote: RUPERT'S MANUSCRIPTS.]

On the right bank of the Rhine, and opposite Cologne, stood the
monastery of Deutz, one of whose abbots, Rupert, who lived in the
twelfth century, had said: "To be ignorant of Scripture is to be
ignorant of Jesus Christ. This is _the scripture of nations_![531]
This book of God, which is not pompous in words and poor in meaning
like Plato, ought to be set before every people, and to proclaim
aloud to the whole world the salvation of all." One day, when Cochlæus
and his host were talking of Rupert, the canon informed the dean that
the _heretic_ Osiander of Nuremberg was in treaty with the abbot of
Deutz about publishing the writings of this ancient doctor. Cochlæus
guessed that Osiander was desirous of bringing forward the
contemporary of Saint Bernard as a witness in defence of the
Reformation. Hastening to the monastery he alarmed the abbot: "Intrust
to me the manuscripts of your celebrated predecessor," he said; "I
will undertake to print them and prove that he was one of us." The
monks placed them in his hands, stipulating for an early publication,
from which they expected no little renown.[532] Cochlæus immediately
went to Peter Quentel and Arnold Byrckman to make the necessary
arrangements. They were Tyndale's printers.

  [531] Scripturæ populorum. Opp. i, p. 641.

  [532] Cum monachi quieturi non erant, nisi ederentur opera illa.
  (Cochl. p. 124.) When the monks could not be quieted unless these
  works should be published.

There Cochlæus made a more important discovery than that of Rupert's
manuscripts. Byrckman and Quentel having invited him one day to meet
several of their colleagues at dinner, a printer, somewhat elevated by
wine, declared in his cups, (to borrow the words of Cochlæus):[533]
"Whether the king and the cardinal of York wish it or not, all England
will soon be Lutheran."[534] Cochlæus listened and grew alarmed; he
made inquiry, and was informed that _two Englishmen_, learned men and
skilled in the languages, were concealed at Cologne.[535] But all his
efforts to discover more proved unavailing.

  [533] Audivit eos aliquando inter pocula fiducialiter jactitare.
  (Ibid. p. 125.) He heard them one day confidently assert in their
  cups.

  [534] Velint nolint rex et cardinalis Angliæ, totam Angliam brevi fore
  Lutheranam. Ibid.

  [535] Duos ibi latitare Anglos eruditos, linguarumque peritos. Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE SECRET BETRAYED.]

There was no more repose for the dean of Frankfort; his imagination
fermented, his mind became alarmed. "What," said he, "shall England,
that faithful servant of the popedom, be perverted like Germany? Shall
the English, the most religious people of Christendom,[536] and whose
king once ennobled himself by writing against Luther,--shall they be
invaded by heresy?... Shall the mighty cardinal-legate of York be
compelled to flee from his palace, as I was from Frankfort?" Cochlæus
continued his search; he paid frequent visits to the printers, spoke
to them in a friendly tone, flattered them, invited them to visit him
at the canon's; but as yet he dared not hazard the important question;
it was sufficient for the moment to have won the good graces of the
depositaries of the secret. He soon took a new step; he was careful
not to question them before one another; but he procured a private
interview with one of them,[537] and supplied him plentifully with
Rhine wine:--he himself is our informant.[538] Artful questions
embarrassed the unwary printer, and at last the secret was disclosed.
"The New Testament," Cochlæus learnt, "is translated into English;
three thousand copies are in the press; fourscore pages in quarto are
ready; the expense is fully supplied by English merchants, who are
secretly to convey the work when printed, and to disperse it widely
through all England, before the king or the cardinal can discover or
prohibit it.[539]... Thus will Britain be converted to the opinions of
Luther."[540]

  [536] In gente illa religiosissima vereque Christiana. Ibid. p. 131.

  [537] Unus eorum in secretiori colloquio revelavit illi arcanum.
  (Cochlæus. p. 131.) One of them in a private conference revealed the
  secret to him.

  [538] Rem omnem ut acceperat _vini beneficio_. Ibid.

  [539] Opus excussum clam invecturi per totam Angliam latenter
  dispergere vellent. Ibid.

  [540] Ad Lutheri partes trahenda est Anglia. Ibid.

The surprise of Cochlæus equalled his alarm;[541] he dissembled; he
wished to learn, however, where the two Englishmen lay concealed; but
all his exertions proved ineffectual, and he returned to his lodgings
filled with emotion. The danger was very great. A stranger and an
exile, what can he do to oppose this impious undertaking? Where shall
he find a friend to England, prepared to show his zeal in warding off
the threatened blow?... He was bewildered.

  [541] Metu et admiratione affectus. Ibid.

A flash of light suddenly dispelled the darkness. A person of some
consequence at Cologne, Herman Rincke, a patrician and imperial
councillor, had been sent on important business by the Emperor
Maximilian to Henry VII, and from that time he had always shown a
great attachment to England. Cochlæus determined to reveal the fatal
secret to him; but, being still alarmed by the scenes at Frankfort, he
was afraid to conspire openly against the Reformation. He had left an
aged mother and a little niece at home, and was unwilling to do any
thing which might compromise them. He therefore crept stealthily
towards Rincke's house (as he tells us himself),[542] slipped in
secretly, and unfolded the whole matter to him. Rincke could not
believe that the New Testament in English was printing at Cologne;
however, he sent a confidential person to make inquiries, who reported
to him that Cochlæus's information was correct, and that he had found
in the printing office a large supply of paper intended for the
edition.[543] The patrician immediately proceeded to the senate, and
spoke of Wolsey, of Henry VIII, and of the preservation of the Romish
church in England; and that body which, under the influence of the
archbishop, had long since forgotten the rights of liberty, forbade
the printer to continue the work. Thus then there were to be no New
Testaments for England! A practised hand had warded off the blow aimed
at Roman-catholicism; Tyndale would perhaps be thrown into prison, and
Cochlæus enjoy a complete triumph.

  [542] Abiit igitur clam ad H. Rincke. Ibid.

  [543] Ingentem papyri copiam ibi existere. Ibid.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE RESCUES HIS WORK.]

Tyndale was at first confounded. Were so many years of toil lost,
then, for ever? His trial seemed beyond his strength.[544] "They are
ravening wolves," he exclaimed, "they preach to others, Steal not, and
yet they have robbed the soul of man of the bread of life, and fed her
with the shales [shells?] and cods of the hope in their merits and
confidence in their good works."[545] Yet Tyndale did not long remain
cast down; for his faith was of that kind which would remove
mountains. Is it not the word of God that is imperilled? If he does
not abandon himself, God will not abandon him. He must anticipate the
senate of Cologne. Daring and prompt in all his movements, Tyndale
bade Roye follow him, hastened to the printing office, collected the
sheets, jumped into a boat, and rapidly ascended the river, carrying
with him the hope of England.[546]

  [544] Necessity and combrance (God is record) _above strength_. Tynd.
  Doctr. Tr. p. 390.

  [545] Tyndale, Expositions, p. 123, (Parker Society).

  [546] Arreptis secum quaternionibus impressis aufugerunt navigio per
  Rhenum ascendentes. (Cochl. p. 126.) Laying hold of four sheets that
  were printed they escaped on board a vessel, and ascended the Rhine.

When Cochlæus and Rincke, accompanied by the officers of the senate,
reached the printing office, they were surprised beyond measure. The
apostate had secured the abominable papers!... Their enemy had escaped
like a bird from the net of the fowler. Where was he to be found now?
He would no doubt go and place himself under the protection of some
_Lutheran_ prince, whither Cochlæus would take good care not to pursue
him; but there was one resource left. These English books can do no
harm in Germany; they must be prevented reaching London. He wrote to
Henry VIII, to Wolsey, and to the bishop of Rochester. "Two
Englishmen," said he to the king, "like the two eunuchs who desired to
lay hands on Ahasuerus, are plotting wickedly against the peace of
your kingdom; but I, like the faithful Mordecai,[547] will lay open
their designs to you. They wish to send the New Testament in English
to your people. Give orders at every seaport to prevent the
introduction of this most baneful merchandise."[548] Such was the name
given by this zealous follower of the pope to the word of God. An
unexpected ally soon restored peace to the soul of Cochlæus. The
celebrated Dr. Eck, a champion of popery far more formidable than he
was, had arrived at Cologne on his way to London, and he undertook to
arouse the anger of the bishops and of the king.[549] The eyes of the
greatest opponents of the Reformation seemed now to be fixed on
England. Eck, who boasted of having gained the most signal triumphs
over Luther, would easily get the better of the humble tutor and his
New Testament.

  [547] He was indebted to me no less than Ahasuerus was indebted to
  Mordecai. Annals of the Bible, i, p. 61.

  [548] Ut quam diligentissime præcaverint in omnibus Angliæ portubus,
  ne merx illa perniciosissima inveheretur. Cochlæus, p. 126.

  [549] Ad quem Doctor Eckius venit, dum in Angliam tenderet. Ibid. 109.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE ARRIVES AT WORMS.]

During this time Tyndale, guarding his precious bales, ascended the
rapid river as quickly as he could. He passed before the antique
cities and the smiling villages scattered along the banks of the Rhine
amidst scenes of picturesque beauty. The mountains, glens, and rocks,
the dark forests, the ruined fortresses, the gothic churches, the
boats that passed and repassed each other, the birds of prey that
soared over his head, as if they bore a mission from Cochlæus--nothing
could turn his eyes from the treasure he was carrying with him. At
last, after a voyage of five or six days, he reached Worms, where
Luther, four years before, had exclaimed: "Here I stand, I can do no
other; may God help me!"[550] These words of the German reformer, so
well known to Tyndale, were the star that had guided him to Worms. He
knew that the Gospel was preached in that ancient city. "The citizens
are subject to fits of Lutheranism," said Cochlæus.[551] Tyndale
arrived there, not as Luther did, surrounded by an immense crowd, but
unknown, and imagining himself pursued by the myrmidons of Charles and
of Henry. As he landed from the boat he cast an uneasy glance around
him, and laid down his precious burden on the bank of the river.

  [550] See above, book vii, chapter viii.

  [551] Ascendentes Wormatiam ubi plebs pleno furore lutherisabat.
  Cochlæus, p. 126.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S PRAYER.]

He had had time to reflect on the dangers which threatened his work.
As his enemies would have marked the edition, some few sheets of it
having fallen into their hands, he took steps to mislead the
inquisitors, and began a new edition, striking out the prologue and
the notes, and substituting the more portable _octavo_ form for the
original _quarto_. Peter Schæffer, the grandson of Fust, one of the
inventors of printing, lent his presses for this important work. The
two editions were quietly completed about the end of the year
1525.[552]

  [552] A copy of the _octavo_ edition exists in the Museum of the
  Baptist College at Bristol. If it is compared with the _quarto_
  edition, a sensible progress will be found in the orthography. Thus we
  read in the latter: _prophettes_, _synners_, _mooste_, _sekynge_; in
  the octavo we find, _prophets_, _sinners_, _most_, _seking_. Annals of
  the Bible, i. p. 70.

Thus were the wicked deceived: they would have deprived the English
people of the oracles of God, and _two_ editions were now ready to
enter England. "Give diligence," said Tyndale to his fellow-countrymen,
as he sent from Worms the Testament he had just translated, "unto the
words of eternal life, by the which, if we repent and believe them, we
are born anew, created afresh, and enjoy the fruits of the blood of
Christ."[553] In the beginning of 1526, these books crossed the sea by
way of Antwerp or Rotterdam. Tyndale was happy; but he knew that the
unction of the Holy Ghost alone could enable the people of England to
understand these sacred pages; and accordingly he followed them night
and day with his prayers. "The scribes and Pharisees," said he, "had
thrust up the sword of the word of God in a scabbard or sheath of
glosses, and therein had knit it fast, so that it could neither stick
nor cut.[554] Now, O God, draw this sharp sword from the scabbard.
Strike, wound, cut asunder, the soul and the flesh, so that man being
divided in two, and set at variance with himself, may be in peace with
thee to all eternity!"

  [553] Epistle, in init.

  [554] Tyndale's Works, ii, p. 378; or Expositions (Matthew), p. 131,
  (Park. Soc.)




CHAPTER XII.

     Worms and Cambridge--St. Paul resuscitated--Latimer's
     Preaching--Never Man spake like this Man--Joy and Vexation
     at Cambridge--Sermon by Prior Buckingham--Irony--Latimer's
     Reply to Buckingham--The Students threatened--Latimer
     preaches before the Bishop--He is forbidden to preach--The
     most zealous of Bishops--Barnes the Restorer of
     Letters--Bilney undertakes to convert him--Barnes offers his
     Pulpit to Latimer--Fryth's Thirst for God--Christmas Eve,
     1525--Storm against Barnes--Ferment in the Colleges--Germany
     at Cambridge--Meetings at Oxford--General Expectation.


[Sidenote: ST. PAUL REVIVED.]

While these works were accomplishing at Cologne and Worms, others were
going on at Cambridge and Oxford. On the banks of the Rhine they were
preparing the seed; in England they were drawing the furrows to
receive it. The gospel produced a great agitation at Cambridge.
Bilney, whom we may call the father of the English Reformation, since,
being the first converted by the New Testament, he had brought to the
knowledge of God the energetic Latimer, and so many other witnesses of
the truth,--Bilney did not at that time put himself forward, like many
of those who had listened to him: his vocation was prayer. Timid
before men, he was full of boldness before God, and day and night
called upon him for souls. But while he was kneeling in his closet,
others were at work in the world. Among these Stafford was
particularly remarkable. "Paul is risen from the dead," said many as
they heard him. And in fact Stafford explained with so much life the
true meaning of the words of the apostle and of the four
evangelists,[555] that these holy men, whose faces had been so long
hidden under the dense traditions of the schools,[556] reappeared
before the youth of the university such as the apostolic times had
beheld them. But it was not only their _persons_ (for that would have
been a trifling matter), it was their _doctrine_ which Stafford laid
before his hearers. While the schoolmen of Cambridge were declaring to
their pupils a reconciliation which was not yet worked out, and
telling them that pardon must be purchased by the works prescribed by
the church, Stafford taught that redemption was _accomplished_, that
the satisfaction offered by Jesus Christ was _perfect_; and he added,
that popery having revived the _kingdom of the law_, God, by the
Reformation, was now reviving the _kingdom of grace_. The Cambridge
students, charmed by their master's teaching, greeted him with
applause, and, indulging a little too far in their enthusiasm, said to
one another as they left the lecture-room: "Which is the most indebted
to the other? Stafford to Paul, who left him the holy epistles; or
Paul to Stafford, who has resuscitated that apostle and his holy
doctrines, which the middle ages had obscured?"

  [555] He set forth in his lectures the native sense. Thomas Becon, ii,
  p. 426.

  [556] Obscured through the darkness and mists of the papists. Ibid.

[Sidenote: LATIMER'S PREACHING.]

Above Bilney and Stafford rose Latimer, who, by the power of the Holy
Ghost, transfused into other hearts the learned lessons of his
master.[557] Being informed of the work that Tyndale was preparing, he
maintained from the Cambridge pulpits that the Bible ought to be read
in the vulgar tongue.[558] "The author of Holy Scripture," said he,
"is the mighty One, the Everlasting ... _God himself!_... and this
Scripture partakes of the might and eternity of its author. There is
neither king nor emperor that is not bound to obey it. Let us beware
of those bypaths of human tradition, filled of stones, brambles, and
uprooted trees. Let us follow the straight road of the word. It does
not concern us what the Fathers have done, but what they should have
done."[559]

  [557] A private instructor to the rest of his brethren within the
  university. Foxe, Acts, vii, p. 438.

  [558] He proved in his sermons that the Holy Scriptures ought to be
  read in the English tongue of all Christian people. Becon, vol. ii. p.
  424. (Park. Soc.)

  [559] We find his opinions upon that subject in a later sermon.
  Latimer's sermons, p. 96, 97. (Park. Soc.)

A numerous congregation crowded to Latimer's preaching, and his
hearers hung listening to his lips. One in particular attracted
attention. He was a Norfolk youth, sixteen years of age, whose
features were lighted up with understanding and piety. This poor
scholar had received with eagerness the truth announced by the former
cross-bearer. He did not miss one of his sermons; with a sheet of
paper on his knees, and a pencil in his hand, he took down part of the
discourse, trusting the remainder to his memory.[560] This was Thomas
Becon, afterwards chaplain to Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury. "If I
possess the knowledge of God," said he, "I owe it (under God) to
Latimer."

  [560] A poor scholar of Cambridge ... but a child of sixteen years.
  Becon's Works, ii. p. 424.

Latimer had hearers of many sorts. By the side of those who gave way
to their enthusiasm stood men "swelling, blown full, and puffed up
like unto Esop's frog, with envy and malice against him," said
Becon;[561] these were the partizans of traditional catholicism, whom
curiosity had attracted, or whom their evangelical friends had dragged
to the church. But as Latimer spoke a marvellous transformation was
worked in them; by degrees their angry features relaxed, their fierce
looks grew softer; and, if these friends of the priests were asked,
after their return home, what they thought of the heretic preacher,
they replied, in the exaggeration of their surprise and rapture:
"_Nunquam sic locutus est homo, sicut hic homo!_" (John vii. 46.)

  [561] Becon's Works, ii. p. 425.

[Sidenote: JOY AND ANGER AT CAMBRIDGE.]

When he descended from the pulpit, Latimer hastened to practise what
he had taught. He visited the narrow chambers of the poor scholars,
and the dark rooms of the working classes: "he watered with good deeds
whatsoever he had before planted with godly words,"[562] said the
student who collected his discourses. The disciples conversed together
with joy and simplicity of heart; everywhere the breath of a new life
was felt; as yet no external reforms had been effected, and yet the
spiritual church of the gospel and of the Reformation was already
there. And thus the recollection of these happy times was long
commemorated in the adage:

    When Master Stafford read,
    And Master Latimer preached,
    Then was Cambridge blessed.[563]

  [562] Ibid.

  [563] Becon's Works, ii. p, 425.

The priests could not remain inactive: they heard speak of grace and
liberty, and would have nothing to do with either. If _grace_ is
tolerated, will it not take from the hands of the clergy the
manipulation of salvation, indulgences, penance, and all the rubrics
of the canon law? If _liberty_ is conceded, will not the hierarchy,
with all its degrees, pomps, violence, and scaffolds, be shaken? Rome
desires no other liberty than that of free-will, which, exalting the
natural strength of fallen man, dries up as regards mankind the
springs of divine life, withers Christianity, and changes that
heavenly religion into a human moralism and legal observances.

[Sidenote: THE PRIOR'S SERMON.]

The friends of popery, therefore, collected their forces to oppose the
new religion. "Satan, who never sleeps," says the simple chronicler,
"called up his familiar spirits, and sent them forth against the
reformers." Meetings were held in the convents, but particularly in
that belonging to the Greyfriars. They mustered all their forces. _An
eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth_, said they. Latimer extols in
his sermons the _blessings_ of Scripture; we must deliver a sermon
also to show its _dangers_. But where was the orator to be found who
could cope with him? This was a very embarrassing question to the
clerical party. Among the Greyfriars there was a haughty monk, adroit
and skilful in little matters, and full at once of ignorance and
pride: it was the prior Buckingham. No one had shown more hatred
against the evangelical Christians, and no one was in truth a greater
stranger to the Gospel. This was the man commissioned to set forth the
dangers of the word of God. He was by no means familiar with the New
Testament; he opened it however, picked out a few passages here and
there which seemed to favour his thesis; and then, arrayed in his
costliest robes, with head erect and solemn step, already sure of
victory, he went into the pulpit, combated the heretic, and with
pompous voice stormed against the reading of the Bible;[564] it was in
his eyes the fountain of all heresies and misfortunes. "If that heresy
should prevail," he exclaimed, "there will be an end of everything
useful among us. The ploughman, reading in the gospel that _no man
having put his hand to the plough should look back_, would soon lay
aside his labour.... The baker, reading that a _little leaven
leaveneth the whole lump_, will in future make us nothing but very
insipid bread; and the simple man finding himself commanded _to pluck
out the right eye and cast it from thee_, England, after a few years,
will be a frightful spectacle; it will be little better than a nation
of blind and one-eyed men, sadly begging their bread from door to
door."[565]

  [564] With great pomp and prolixity. Gilpin's Life of Latimer, p. 8.

  [565] The nation full of blind beggars. Gilpin's Life of Latimer.
  p. 8.

This discourse moved that part of the audience for which it was
intended. "The heretic is silenced," said the monks and clerks; but
sensible people smiled, and Latimer was delighted that they had given
him such an adversary. Being of a lively disposition and inclined to
irony, he resolved to lash the platitudes of the pompous friar. There
are some absurdities, he thought, which can only be refuted by showing
how foolish they are. Does not even the grave Tertullian speak of
things which are only to be laughed at, for fear of giving them
importance by a serious refutation?[566] "Next Sunday I will reply to
him," said Latimer.

  [566] Si et ridebitur alicubi materiis ipsis satisfiet. Multa sunt sic
  digna revinci, ne gravitate adorentur. (Contra Valentin, c. vi.) See
  also Pascal's Provincials, Letter xi. And if ridicule shall at any
  time be excited, it is quite suited to such subjects. Many things
  deserve thus to be overcome, lest by a serious refutation, they get
  more respect than they deserve.

[Sidenote: LATIMER'S REPLY.]

The church was crowded when Buckingham, with the hood of St. Francis
on his shoulders and with a vain-glorious air, took his place solemnly
in front of the preacher. Latimer began by recapitulating the least
weak of his adversary's arguments; then taking them up one by one, he
turned them over and over, and pointed out all their absurdity with so
much wit, that the poor prior was buried in his own nonsense. Then
turning towards the listening crowd, he exclaimed with warmth: "This
is how your skilful guides abuse your understanding. They look upon
you as children that must be for ever kept in leading-strings. Now,
the hour of your majority has arrived; boldly examine the Scriptures,
and you will easily discover the absurdity of the teaching of your
doctors." And then desirous, as Solomon has it, of _answering a fool
according to his folly_, he added: "As for the comparisons drawn from
the _plough_, the _leaven_, and the _eye_, of which the reverend prior
has made so singular a use, is it necessary to justify these passages
of Scripture? Must I tell you what _plough_, what _leaven_, what _eye_
is here meant? Is not our Lord's teaching distinguished by those
expressions which, under a popular form, conceal a spiritual and
profound meaning? Do not we know that in all languages and in all
speeches, it is not on the _image_ that we must fix our eyes, but on
the _thing_ which the image represents?... For instance," he
continued, and as he said these words he cast a piercing glance on the
prior, "if we see a fox painted preaching in a friar's hood, nobody
imagines that a fox is meant, but that craft and hypocrisy are
described, which are so often found disguised in that garb."[567] At
these words the poor prior, on whom the eyes of all the congregation
were turned, rose and left the church hastily, and ran off to his
convent to hide his rage and confusion among his brethren. The monks
and their creatures uttered loud cries against Latimer. It was
unpardonable (they said) to have been thus wanting in respect to the
cowl of St. Francis. But his friends replied: "Do we not whip
children? and he who treats Scripture worse than a child, does he not
deserve to be well flogged?"

  [567] Gilpin's Life of Latimer, p. 10.

The Romish party did not consider themselves beaten. The heads of
colleges and the priests held frequent conferences. The professors
were desired to watch carefully over their pupils, and to lead them
back to the teaching of the church by flattery and by threats. "We are
putting our lance in rest," they told the students; "if you become
evangelicals, your advancement is at an end." But these open-hearted
generous youths loved rather to be poor with Christ, than rich with
the priests. Stafford continued to teach, Latimer to preach, and
Bilney to visit the poor: the doctrine of Christ ceased not to be
spread abroad, and souls to be converted.

One weapon only was left to the schoolmen; this was persecution, the
favourite arm of Rome. "Our enterprise has not succeeded," said they;
"Buckingham is a fool. The best way of answering these _gospellers_ is
to prevent their speaking." Dr. West, bishop of Ely, was ordinary of
Cambridge; they called for his intervention, and he ordered one of the
doctors to inform him the next time Latimer was to preach; "but,"
added he, "do not say a word to any one. I wish to come without being
expected."

[Sidenote: LATIMER PREACHES BEFORE THE BISHOP.]

One day as Latimer was preaching in Latin _ad clerum_, the bishop
suddenly entered the university church, attended by a number of
priests. Latimer stopped, waiting respectfully until West and his
train had taken their places. "A new audience," thought he; "and
besides, an audience worthy of greater honour calls for a new theme.
Leaving, therefore, the subject I had proposed, I will take up one
that relates to the episcopal charge, and will preach on these words:
_Christus existens Pontifex futurorum bonorum_." (Hebrews ix. 11.)
Then describing Jesus Christ, Latimer represented him as the "true and
perfect pattern unto all other bishops."[568] There was not a single
virtue pointed out in the divine bishop that did not correspond with
some defect in the Romish bishops. Latimer's caustic wit had a free
course at their expense; but there was so much gravity in his sallies,
and so lively a Christianity in his descriptions, that every one must
have felt them to be the cries of a Christian conscience rather than
the sarcasms of an ill-natured disposition. Never had bishop been
taught by one of his priests like this man. "Alas!" said many, "our
bishops are not of that breed: they are descended from Annas and
Caiaphas." West was not more at his ease than Buckingham had been
formerly. He stifled his anger, however; and after the sermon, said to
Latimer with a gracious accent: "You have excellent talents, and if
you would do one thing I should be ready to kiss your feet."[569]...
What humility in a bishop!... "Preach in this same church," continued
West, "a sermon ... against Martin Luther. That is the best way of
checking heresy." Latimer understood the prelate's meaning, and
replied calmly: "If Luther preaches the word of God, I cannot oppose
him. But if he teaches the contrary, I am ready to attack
him."--"Well, well, Master Latimer," exclaimed the bishop, "I perceive
that you smell somewhat of the pan.[570]... One day or another you
will repent of that merchandise."

  [568] Strype's Eccles. Mem. iii. p. 369.

  [569] I will kneel down and kiss your foot. Ibid.

  [570] Ibid. 370.

West having left Cambridge in great irritation against that rebellious
clerk, hastened to convoke his chapter, and forbade Latimer to preach
either in the university or in the diocese. "All that will live godly
shall suffer persecution," Saint Paul had said; Latimer was now
experiencing the truth of the saying. It was not enough that the name
of heretic had been given him by the priests and their friends, and
that the passers-by insulted him in the streets; ... the work of God
was violently checked. "Behold then," he exclaimed with a bitter sigh,
"the use of the episcopal office ... to hinder the preaching of Jesus
Christ!" Some few years later he sketched, with his usual caustic
irony, the portrait of a certain bishop, of whom Luther also used
frequently to speak: "Do you know," said Latimer, "who is the most
diligentest bishop and prelate in all England?... I see you listening
and hearkening that I should name him.... I will tell you.... It is
the devil. He is never out of his diocese; ye shall never find him out
of the way; call for him when you will, he's ever at home. He is ever
at his plough. Ye shall never find him idle, I warrant you. Where the
devil is resident--there away with books and up with candles; away
with bibles and up with beads; away with the light of the Gospel and
up with the light of candles, yea at noondays; down with Christ's
cross, up with purgatory pickpurse; away with clothing the naked, the
poor, and impotent, up with decking of images and gay garnishing of
stocks and stones; down with God's traditions and his most holy word
Oh! that our prelates would be as diligent to sow the corn of good
doctrine as Satan is to sow cockle and darnel!"[571] Truly may it be
said, "There was never such a preacher in England as he is."[572]

  [571] Latimer's Sermons (Park. Soc.) vol. i. p. 70. Sermon of the
Plough.

  [572] Ibid. p. 72.

The reformer was not satisfied with merely speaking: he acted.
"Neither the menacing words of his adversaries nor their cruel
imprisonments," says one of his contemporaries,[573] "could hinder him
from proclaiming God's truth." Forbidden to preach in the churches, he
went about from house to house. He longed for a pulpit however, and
this he obtained. A haughty prelate had in vain interdicted his
preaching; Jesus Christ, who is above all bishops, is able, when one
door is shut, to open another. Instead of one great preacher there
were soon two at Cambridge.

  [573] He adds: Whatsoever he had once preached, he valiantly defended
  the same. Becon, vol. ii. p. 424.

[Sidenote: ROBERT BARNES.]

An Augustine monk named Robert Barnes, a native of the county of
Norfolk, and a great scholar, had gone to Louvain to prosecute his
studies. Here he received the degree of doctor of divinity, and having
returned to Cambridge, was nominated prior of his monastery in 1523.
It was his fortune to reconcile learning and the Gospel in the
university; but by leaning too much to learning he diminished the
force of the word of God. A great crowd collected every day in the
Augustine convent to hear his lectures upon Terence, and in particular
upon Cicero. Many of those who were offended by the simple
Christianity of Bilney and Latimer, were attracted by this reformer of
another kind. Coleman, Coverdale, Field, Cambridge, Barley, and many
other young men of the university, gathered round Barnes and
proclaimed him "the restorer of letters."[574]

  [574] The great restorer of good learning. Strype, i. p. 568; Foxe,
  Acts, v. p. 415.

[Sidenote: HIS LECTURES.]

But the classics were only a preparatory teaching. The masterpieces of
antiquity having aided Barnes to clear the soil, he opened before his
class the epistles of St. Paul. He did not understand their divine
depth, like Stafford; he was not, like him, anointed with the Holy
Ghost; he differed from him on several of the apostle's doctrines, on
justification by faith, and on the new creature; but Barnes was an
enlightened and liberal man, not without some degree of piety, and
desirous, like Stafford, of substituting the teaching of Scripture for
the barren disputations of the school. But they soon came into
collision, and Cambridge long remembered that celebrated discussion in
which Barnes and Stafford contended with so much renown, employing no
other weapons than the word of God, to the great astonishment of the
blind doctors, and the great joy of the clearsighted, says the
chronicler.[575]

  [575] Marvellous in the sight of the great blind doctors. Foxe, Acts,
  v. p. 415.

Barnes was not as yet thoroughly enlightened, and the friends of the
Gospel were astonished that a man, a stranger to the truth, should
deal such heavy blows against error. Bilney, whom we continually meet
with when any secret work, a work of irresistible charity, is in
hand,--Bilney, who had converted Latimer, undertook to convert Barnes;
and Stafford, Arthur, Thistel of Pembroke, and Fooke of Benet's,
earnestly prayed God to grant his assistance. The experiment was
difficult: Barnes had reached that _juste milieu_, that "golden mean"
of the humanists, that intoxication of learning and glory, which
render conversion more difficult. Besides, could a man like Bilney
really dare to instruct the restorer of antiquity? But the humble
bachelor of arts, so simple in appearance, knew, like David of old, a
secret power by which the Goliath of the university might be
vanquished. He passed days and nights in prayer; and then urged Barnes
openly to manifest his convictions without fearing the reproaches of
the world. After many conversations and prayers, Barnes was converted
to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.[576] Still, the prior retained
something undecided in his character, and only half relinquished that
middle state with which he had begun. For instance, he appears to have
always believed in the efficacy of sacerdotal consecration to
transform the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. His
eye was not single, and his mind was often agitated and driven to and
fro by contrary thoughts: "Alas!" said this divided character one day,
"I confess that my cogitations be innumerable."[577]

  [576] Bilney converted Dr. Barnes to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Foxe,
  Acts, iv, p. 620.

  [577] Ibid. v. p. 434.

Barnes, having come to a knowledge of the truth, immediately displayed
a zeal that was somewhat imprudent. Men of the least decided
character, and even those who are destined to make a signal fall, are
often those who begin their course with the greatest ardour. Barnes
seemed prepared at this time to withstand all England. Being now
united to Latimer by a tender Christian affection, he was indignant
that the powerful voice of his friend should be lost to the church.
"The bishop has forbidden you to preach," he said to him, "but my
monastery is not under episcopal jurisdiction. You can preach there."
Latimer went into the pulpit at the Augustine's, and the church could
not contain the crowd that flocked to it. At Cambridge, as at
Wittemberg, the chapel of the Augustine monks was used for the first
struggles of the Gospel. It was here that Latimer delivered some of
his best sermons.

[Sidenote: JOHN FRYTH.]

A very different man from Latimer, and particularly from Barnes, was
daily growing in influence among the English reformers: this was
Fryth. No one was more humble than he, and on that very account no one
was stronger. He was less brilliant than Barnes, but more solid. He
might have penetrated into the highest departments of science, but he
was drawn away by the deep mysteries of God's word; the call of
conscience prevailed over that of the understanding.[578] He did not
devote the energy of his soul to difficult questions; he thirsted for
God, for his truth, and for his love. Instead of propagating his
particular opinions and forming divisions, he clung only to the faith
which saves, and advanced the dominion of true unity. This is the mark
of the great servant of God. Humble before the Lord, mild before men,
and even in appearance somewhat timid, Fryth in the face of danger
displayed an intrepid courage. "My learning is small," he said, "but
the little I have I am determined to give to Jesus Christ for the
building of his temple."[579]

  [578] Notwithstanding his other manifold and singular gifts and
  ornaments of the mind, in him most pregnant. Tyndale and Fryth's
  Works, iii, p. 73.

  [579] That is very small, nevertheless that little. Ibid. p. 83.

Latimer's sermons, Barnes's ardour, and Fryth's firmness, excited
fresh zeal at Cambridge. They knew what was going on in Germany and
Switzerland; shall the English, ever in front, now remain in the rear?
Shall not Latimer, Bilney, Stafford, Barnes, and Fryth do what the
servants of God are doing in other places?

[Sidenote: CHRISTMAS EVE, 1525.]

A secret ferment announced an approaching crisis: every one expected
some change for better or for worse. The Evangelicals, confident in
the truth, and thinking themselves sure of victory, resolved to fall
upon the enemy simultaneously on several points. The Sunday before
Christmas, in the year 1525, was chosen for this great attack. While
Latimer should address the crowds that continued to fill the Augustine
chapel, and others were preaching in other places, Barnes was to
deliver a sermon in one of the churches in the town. But nothing
compromises the Gospel so much as a disposition turned towards outward
things. God, who grants his blessing only to undivided hearts,
permitted this general assault, of which Barnes was to be the hero, to
be marked by a defeat. The prior, as he went into the pulpit, thought
only of Wolsey. As the representative of the popedom in England, the
cardinal was the great obstacle to the Reformation. Barnes preached
from the epistle for the day: _Rejoice in the Lord alway_.[580] But
instead of announcing Christ and the joy of the Christian, he
imprudently declaimed against the luxury, pride, and diversions of the
churchmen, and everybody understood that he aimed at the cardinal. He
described those magnificent palaces, that brilliant suite, those
scarlet robes, and pearls, and gold, and precious stones, and all the
prelate's ostentation, so little in keeping (said he) with the stable
of Bethlehem. Two fellows of King's College, Robert Ridley and Walter
Preston, relations of Tonstall, bishop of London, who were
intentionally among the congregation, noted down in their tablets the
prior's imprudent expressions.

  [580] Philippians iv, 4-7.

[Sidenote: FERMENT IN THE COLLEGES.]

The sermon was scarcely over when the storm broke out. "These people
are not satisfied with propagating monstrous heresies," exclaimed
their enemies, "but they must find fault with the powers that be.
To-day they attack the cardinal, to-morrow they will attack the king!"
Ridley and Preston accused Barnes to the vice-chancellor. All
Cambridge was in commotion. What! Barnes the Augustine prior, the
restorer of letters, accused as a Lollard!... The Gospel was
threatened with a danger more formidable than a prison or a scaffold.
The friends of the priests, knowing Barnes's weakness, and even his
vanity, hoped to obtain of him a disavowal that would cover the
evangelical party with shame. "What!" said these dangerous counsellors
to him, "the noblest career was open to you, and would you close
it?... Do, pray, explain away your sermon." They alarmed, they
flattered him; and the poor prior was near yielding to their
solicitations. "Next Sunday you will read this declaration," they said
to him. Barnes ran over the paper put into his hands, and saw no great
harm in it. However he desired to show it to Bilney and Stafford.
"Beware of such weakness," said these faithful men. Barnes then
recalled his promise, and for a season the enemies of the Gospel were
silent.

Its friends worked with increased energy. The fall from which one of
their companions had so narrowly escaped inspired them with fresh
zeal. The more indecision and weakness Barnes had shown, the more did
his brethren flee to God for courage and firmness. It was reported,
moreover, that a powerful ally was coming across the sea, and that the
Holy Scriptures, translated into the vulgar tongue, were at last to be
given to the people. Wherever the word was preached, there the
congregation was largest. It was the seed-time of the church; all were
busy in the fields to prepare the soil and trace the furrows. Seven
colleges at least were in full ferment: Pembroke, St. John's, Queens',
King's, Caius, Benet's, and Peterhouse. The Gospel was preached at the
Augustine's, at Saint Mary's, (the University church,) and in other
places, and when the bells rang to prayers, the streets were alive
with students issuing from the colleges, and hastening to the
sermon.[581]

  [581] Flocked together in open street. Strype, Mem. i, p. 568.

There was at Cambridge a house called the White Horse, so situated as
to permit the most timid members of King's, Queens', and St. John's
Colleges, to enter at the rear without being perceived. In every age
Nicodemus has had his followers. Here those persons used to assemble
who desired to read the Bible and the works of the German reformers.
The priests, looking upon Wittemberg as the focus of the Reformation,
named this house Germany: the people will always have their bywords.
At first the frequenters of the White Horse were called sophists; and
now, whenever a group of "fellows" was seen walking in that direction,
the cry was, "There are the Germans going to Germany."--"We are not
Germans," was the reply, "neither are we Romans." The Greek New
Testament had made them Christians. The Gospel-meetings had never been
more fervent. Some attended them to communicate the new life they
possessed; others to receive what God had given to the more advanced
brethren. The Holy Spirit united them all, and thus, by the fellowship
of the saints, were real churches created. To these young Christians
the word of God was the source of so much light, that they imagined
themselves transported to that heavenly city of which the Scriptures
speak, _which had no need of the sun, for the glory of God did lighten
it_. "So oft as I was in the company of these brethren," said a
youthful student of St. John's, "methought I was quietly placed in the
new glorious Jerusalem."[582]

  [582] Becon, ii, p. 426.

[Sidenote: MEETINGS AT OXFORD.]

Similar things were taking place at Oxford. In 1524 and 1525, Wolsey
had successively invited thither several Cambridge fellows, and
although only seeking the most able, he found that he had taken some
of the most pious. Besides John Clark, there were Richard Cox, John
Fryer, Godfrey Harman, W. Betts, Henry Sumner, W. Baily, Michael
Drumm, Th. Lawney, and, lastly, the excellent John Fryth. These
Christians, associating with Clark, with his faithful Dalaber, and
with other evangelicals of Oxford, held meetings, like their Cambridge
brethren, at which God manifested his presence. The bishops made war
upon the Gospel; the king supported them with all his power; but the
word had gained the victory; there was no longer any doubt. The church
was born again in England.

The great movement of the sixteenth century had begun more
particularly among the younger doctors and students at Oxford and
Cambridge. From them it was necessary that it should be extended to
the people, and for that end the New Testament, hitherto read in Latin
and in Greek, must be circulated in English. The voices of these
youthful evangelists were heard, indeed, in London and in the
provinces; but their exhortations would have been insufficient, if the
mighty hand which directs all things had not made this Christian
activity coincide with that holy work for which it had set Tyndale
apart. While all was agitation in England, the waves of ocean were
bearing from the continent to the banks of the Thames those Scriptures
of God, which, three centuries later, multiplied by thousands and by
millions, and translated into a hundred and fifty tongues, were to be
wafted from the same banks to the ends of the world. If in the
fifteenth century, and even in the early days of the sixteenth, the
English New Testament had been brought to London, it would only have
fallen into the hands of a few Lollards. Now, in every place, in the
parsonages, the universities, and the palaces, as well as in the
cottages of the husbandmen and the shops of the tradesmen, there was
an ardent desire to possess the Holy Scriptures. The _fiat lux_ was
about to be uttered over the chaos of the church, and light to be
separated from darkness by the word of God.




BOOK XIX.

THE ENGLISH NEW TESTAMENT AND THE COURT OF ROME.




CHAPTER I.

     Church and State essentially distinct--Their fundamental
     Principles--What restores Life to the Church--Separation
     from Rome necessary--Reform and Liberty--The New Testament
     crosses the sea--Is hidden in London--Garret's Preaching and
     Zeal--Dissemination of Scripture--What the People find in
     it--The Effects it produces--Tyndale's Explanations--Roper,
     More's Son-in-law--Garret carries Tyndale's Testament to
     Oxford--Henry and his Valet--The Supplication of the
     Beggars--Two Sorts of Beggars--Evils caused by
     Priests--More's Supplications of the Souls in Purgatory.


The Church and the State are essentially distinct. They both receive
their task from God, but that task is different in each. The task of
the church is to lead men to God; the task of the State is to secure
the earthly development of a people in conformity with its peculiar
character. There are certain bounds, traced by the particular spirit
of each nation within which the state should confine itself; while the
church, whose limits are co-extensive with the human race, has a
universal character, which raises it above all national differences.
These two distinctive features should be maintained. A state which
aims at universality loses itself; a church whose mind and aim are
sectarian falls away. Nevertheless, the church and the state, the two
poles of social life, while they are in many respects opposed to one
another, are far from excluding each other absolutely. The church has
need of that justice, order, and liberty, which the state is bound to
maintain; but the state has especial need of the church. If Jesus can
do without kings to establish his kingdom, kings cannot do without
Jesus, if they would have their kingdoms prosper. Justice, which is
the fundamental principle of the state, is continually fettered in its
progress by the internal power of sin; and as force can do nothing
against this power, the state requires the Gospel in order to
overcome it. That country will always be the most prosperous where the
church is the most evangelical. These two communities having thus need
one of the other, we must be prepared, whenever a great religious
manifestation takes place in the world, to witness the appearance on
the scene not only of the little ones, but of the great ones also, of
the state. We must not then be surprised to meet with Henry VIII, but
let us endeavour to appreciate accurately the part he played.

[Sidenote: CHURCH AND STATE.]

If the Reformation, particularly in England, happened necessarily to
be mixed up with the state, with the world even, it originated neither
in the state nor in the world. There was much worldliness in the age
of Henry VIII, passions, violence, festivities, a trial, a divorce;
and some historians call that _the history of the Reformation in
England_. We shall not pass by in silence these manifestations of the
worldly life; opposed as they are to the Christian life, they are in
history, and it is not our business to tear them out. But most
assuredly they are not the Reformation. From a very different quarter
proceeded the divine light which then rose upon the human race.

To say that Henry VIII, was the reformer of his people is to betray
our ignorance of his. The kingly power in England by turns opposed and
favoured the reform in the church; but it opposed before it favoured,
and much more than it favoured. This great transformation was begun
and extended by its own strength, by the Spirit from on high.

When the church has lost the life that is peculiar to it, it must
again put itself in communication with its creative principle, that
is, with the word of God. Just as the buckets of a wheel employed in
irrigating the meadows have no sooner discharged their reviving
waters, than they dip again into the stream to be re-filled, so every
generation, void of the Spirit of Christ, must return to the divine
source to be again filled up. The primitive words which created the
church have been preserved for us in the Gospels, the Acts, and the
Epistles; and the humble reading of these divine writings will create
in every age the communion of saints. God was the father of the
Reformation, not Henry VIII. The visible world which then glittered
with such brightness; those princes and sports, those noblemen, and
trials and laws, far from effecting a reform, were calculated to
stifle it. But the light and the warmth came from heaven, and the new
creation was completed.

[Sidenote: SEPARATION FROM ROME NECESSARY.]

In the reign of Henry VIII a great number of citizens, priests, and
noblemen possessed that degree of cultivation which favours the
action of the holy books. It was sufficient for this divine seed to be
scattered on the well-prepared soil for the work of germination to be
accomplished.

A time not less important also was approaching--that in which the
action of the popedom was to come to an end. The hour had not yet
struck. God was first creating within by his word a spiritual church,
before he broke without by his dispensations the bonds which had so
long fastened England to the power of Rome. It was his good pleasure
first to give truth and life, and then liberty. It has been said that
if the pope had consented to a reform of abuses and doctrines, on
condition of his keeping his position, the religious revolution would
not have been satisfied at that price, and that after demanding
_reform_, the next demand would have been for _liberty_. The only
reproach that can be made to this assertion is, that it is
superabundantly true. Liberty was an integral part of the Reformation,
and one of the changes imperatively required was to withdraw religious
authority from the pope, and restore it to the word of God. In the
sixteenth century there was a great outpouring of the Christian life
in France, Italy, and Spain; it is attested by martyrs without number,
and history shows that to transform these three great nations, all
that the Gospel wanted was liberty.[583] "If we had set to work two
months later," said a grand inquisitor of Spain who had dyed himself
in the blood of the saints, "it would have been too late: Spain would
have been lost to the Roman church." We may therefore believe that if
Italy, France, and Spain had had some generous king to check the
myrmidons of the pope, those three countries, carried along by the
renovating power of the Gospel, would have entered upon an era of
liberty and faith.

  [583] Geddes's Martyrology, Gonsalvi, Mart. Hisp. Llorente, Inquis.
  M'Crie, Ref. in Spain.

The struggles of England with the popedom began shortly after the
dissemination of the English New Testament by Tyndale. The epoch at
which we are arrived accordingly brings in one view before our eyes
both the Testament of Jesus Christ and the court of Rome. We can thus
study the men (the reformers and the Romanists) and the works they
produce, and arrive at a just valuation of the two great principles
which dispute the possession of authority in the church.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: ARRIVAL OF THE NEW TESTAMENTS.]

It was about the close of the year 1525; the English New Testament was
crossing the sea; five pious Hanseatic merchants had taken charge of
the books. Captivated by the Holy Scriptures they had taken them on
board their ships, hidden them among their merchandise; and then made
sail from Antwerp for London.

Thus those precious pages were approaching England, which were to
become its light and the source of its greatness. The merchants, whose
zeal unhappily cost them dear, were not without alarm. Had not
Cochlæus caused orders to be sent to every port to prevent the
entrance of the precious cargo they were bringing to England? They
arrived and cast anchor; they lowered the boat to reach the shore;
what were they likely to meet there? Tonstall's agents, no doubt, and
Wolsey's, and Henry's ready to take away their New Testaments! They
landed and soon again returned to the ship; boats passed to and fro,
and the vessel was unloaded. No enemy appeared; and no one seemed to
imagine that these ships contained so great a treasure.

Just at the time this invaluable cargo was ascending the river, an
invisible hand had dispersed the preventive guard. Tonstall, bishop of
London, had been sent to Spain; Wolsey was occupied in political
combinations with Scotland, France, and the empire; Henry VIII, driven
from his capital by an unhealthy winter, was passing the Christmas
holidays at Eltham; and even the courts of justice, alarmed by an
extraordinary mortality, had suspended their sittings. God, if we may
so speak, had sent his angel to remove the guards.

Seeing nothing that could stop them, the five merchants, whose
establishment was at the Steel yard in Thames Street, hastened to
conceal their precious charge in their warehouses. But who will
receive them? Who will undertake to distribute these Holy Scriptures
in London, Oxford, Cambridge, and all England? It is a little matter
that they have crossed the sea. The principal instrument God was about
to use for their dissemination was an humble servant of Christ.

[Sidenote: THOMAS GARRET.]

In Honey Lane, a narrow thoroughfare adjoining Cheapside, stood the
old church of All Hallows, of which Robert Forman was rector. His
curate was a plain man of lively imagination, delicate conscience, and
timid disposition, but rendered bold by his faith, to which he was to
become a martyr. Thomas Garret, for that was his name, having believed
in the Gospel, earnestly called his hearers to repentance;[584] he
urged upon them that works, however good they might be in appearance,
were by no means capable of justifying the sinner, and that faith
alone could save him.[585] He maintained that every man had the right
to preach the word of God;[586] and called those bishops pharisees,
who persecuted christian men. Garret's discourses, at once so
quickening and so gentle, attracted great crowds; and to many of his
hearers, the street in which he preached was rightly named Honey Lane,
for there they found the _honey out of the rock_.[587] But Garret was
about to commit a fault still more heinous in the eyes of the priests
than preaching faith. The Hanse merchants were seeking some sure place
where they might store up the New Testaments and other books sent from
Germany; the curate offered his house, stealthily transported the holy
deposit thither, hid them in the most secret corners, and kept a
faithful watch over this sacred library.[588] He did not confine
himself to this. Night and day he studied the holy books; he held
Gospel meetings, read the word and explained its doctrines to the
citizens of London. At last, not satisfied with being at once student,
librarian, and preacher, he became a trader, and sold the New
Testament to laymen, and even to priests and monks, so that the Holy
Scriptures were dispersed over the whole realm.[589] This humble and
timid priest was then performing alone the biblical work of England.

  [584] Earnestly laboured to call us to repentance. Becon, iii. p. 11.

  [585] Quod opera nostra quantumvis bona in specie nihil conducunt ad
  justificationem nec ad meritum, sed sola fides. (Foxe, Acts, v. p.
  428.) Because our work, however good in appearance are of no avail to
  justification or to merit, but faith alone can save.

  [586] Every man may preach the word of God. Ibid.

  [587] Psalm lxxxi. 16.

  [588] Having the said books in his custody. Foxe, Acts, v. p. 428.

  [589] Dispersing abroad of the said books within this realm. Ibid. p.
  428. See also Strype. _Cranmer's Mem._ p. 81.

[Sidenote: WHAT MEN FOUND IN THE SCRIPTURES.]

And thus the word of God, presented by Erasmus to the learned in 1517
was given to the people by Tyndale in 1526. In the parsonages and in
the convent cells, but particularly in shops and cottages, a crowd of
persons were studying the New Testament. The clearness of the Holy
Scriptures struck each reader. None of the systematic or aphoristic
forms of the school were to be found there: it was the language of
human life which they discovered in those divine writings: here a
conversation, there a discourse; here a narrative, and there a
comparison; here a command, and there an argument; here a parable, and
there a prayer. It was not all doctrine or all history; but these two
elements mingled together made an admirable whole. Above all, the life
of our Saviour, so divine and so human, had an inexpressible charm
which captivated the simple. One work of Jesus Christ explained
another, and the great facts of the redemption, birth, death, and
resurrection of the Son of God, and the sending of the Holy Ghost,
followed and completed each other. The authority of Christ's teaching,
so strongly contrasting with the doubts of the schools, increased the
clearness of his discourses to his readers; for the more certain a
truth is, the more distinctly it strikes the mind. Academical
explanations were not necessary to those noblemen, farmers, and
citizens. It is to me, for me, and of me that this book speaks, said
each one. It is I whom all these promises and teachings concern. This
_fall_ and this _restoration_ ... they are mine. That old _death_ and
this new _life_.... I have passed through them. That _flesh_ and that
_spirit_.... I know them. This _law_ and this _grace_, this _faith_,
these _works_, this _slavery_, this _glory_, this _Christ_ and this
_Belial_ ... all are familiar to me. It is my own history that I find
in this book. Thus by the aid of the Holy Ghost each one had in his
own experience a key to the mysteries of the Bible. To understand
certain authors and certain philosophers, the intellectual life of the
reader must be in harmony with theirs; so must there be an intimate
affinity with the holy books to penetrate their mysteries. "The man
that has not the Spirit of God," said a reformer, "does not understand
one jot or tittle of the Scripture."[590] Now that this condition was
fulfilled, the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

  [590] Nullus homo unum iota in Scripturis sacris videt, nisi qui
  spiritum Dei habet. (Luther, De servo arbitrio, Witt. ii. p. 424.) No
  man but he who has the Spirit of God can see a single jot in the
  sacred scriptures.

Such at that period were the hermeneutics of England. Tyndale had set
the example himself by explaining many of the words which might stop
the reader. "The _New Testament_!" we may suppose some farmer saying,
as he took up the book; "what _Testament_ is that?" "Christ," replied
Tyndale in his prologue, "commanded his disciples before his death to
publish over all the world _his last will_, which is to give all his
goods unto all that repent and believe.[591] He bequeaths them his
righteousness to blot out their sins--his salvation to overcome their
condemnation; and this is why that document is called the _Testament_
of Jesus Christ."

  [591] Tyndale and Fryth's Works (ed. Russell.). vol. ii. p. 491. The
  "Pathway unto the Holy Scripture" is the prologue to the quarto
  Testament, with a few changes of little importance.

"The _law_ and the _Gospel_," said a citizen of London, in his shop;
"what is that?" "They are two _keys_," answered Tyndale. "The _law_ is
the key which shuts up all men under condemnation, and the _Gospel_ is
the key which opens the door and lets them out. Or, if you like it,
they are two salves. The law, sharp and biting, driveth out the
disease and killeth it; while the Gospel, soothing and soft, softens
the wound and brings life."[592] Everyone understood and read, or
rather devoured the inspired pages; and the hearts of the elect (to
use Tyndale's words), warmed by the love of Jesus Christ, began to
melt like wax.[593]

  [592] Tyndale and Fryth's Works (ed. Russell), vol. ii, p. 503.

  [593] Ibid. p. 500.

[Sidenote: MORE'S SON-IN-LAW.]

This transformation was observed to take place even in the most
catholic families. Roper, More's son-in-law, having read the New
Testament, received the truth. "I have no more need," said he, "of
auricular confession, of vigils, or of the invocation of saints. The
ears of God are always open to hear us. Faith alone is necessary to
salvation. I believe ... and I am saved.... Nothing can deprive me of
God's favour."[594]

  [594] More's Life, p. 134.

The amiable and zealous young man desired to do more. "Father," said
he one day to Sir Thomas, "procure for me from the king, who is very
fond of you, a license to preach. God hath sent me to instruct the
world." More was uneasy. Must this new doctrine, which he detests,
spread even to his children? He exerted all his authority to destroy
the work begun in Roper's heart. "What," said he with a smile, "is it
not sufficient that we that are your friends should know that you are
a fool, but you would proclaim your folly to the world? Hold your
tongue: I will debate with you no longer." The young man's imagination
was struck, but his heart had not been changed. The discussions having
ceased, the father's authority being restored, Roper became less
fervent in his faith, and gradually he returned to popery, of which he
was afterwards a zealous champion.

The humble curate of All Hallows having sold the New Testament to
persons living in London and its neighbourhood, and to many pious men
who would carry it to the farthest parts of England, formed the
resolution to introduce it into the University of Oxford, that citadel
of traditional catholicism. It was there he had studied, and he felt
towards that school the affection which a son bears to his mother: he
set out with his books.[595] Terror occasionally seized him, for he
knew that the word of God had many deadly enemies at Oxford; but his
inexhaustible zeal overcame his timidity. In concert with Dalaber, he
stealthily offered the mysterious book for sale; many students bought
it, and Garret carefully entered their names in his register. This was
in January 1526; an incident disturbed this Christian activity.

  [595] And brought with him Tyndale's first translation of the New
  Testament in English. Foxe, Acts, v, p. 421.

[Sidenote: HENRY VIII AND HIS VALET.]

One morning when Edmund Moddis, one of Henry's valets-de-chambre, was
in attendance on his master, the prince, who was much attached to him,
spoke to him, of the new books come from beyond the sea. "If your
grace," said Moddis, "would promise to pardon me and certain
individuals, I would present you a wonderful book which is dedicated
to your majesty."[596] "Who is the author?" "A lawyer of Gray's Inn
named Simon Fish, at present on the continent." "What is he doing
there?" "About three years ago, Mr. Row, a fellow-student of Gray's
Inn, composed for a private theatre a drama against my lord the
cardinal." The king smiled; when his minister was attacked, his own
yoke seemed lighter. "As no one was willing to represent the character
employed to give the cardinal his lesson," continued the valet,
"Master Fish boldly accepted it. The piece produced a great effect;
and my lord being informed of this impertinence, sent the police one
night to arrest Fish. The latter managed to escape, crossed the sea,
joined one Tyndale, the author of some of the books so much talked of;
and, carried away by his friend's example, he composed the book of
which I was speaking to your grace." "What's the name of it?" "_The
Supplication of the Beggars._"--"Where did you see it?"--"At two of
your tradespeople's, George Elyot and George Robinson;[597] if your
grace desires it, they shall bring it you." The king appointed the day
and the hour.

  [596] His grace should see such a book as it was a marvel to hear of.
  Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 658.

  [597] Ibid.

The book was written for the king, and every body read it but the king
himself. At the appointed day, Moddis appeared with Elyot and
Robinson, who were not entirely without fear, as they might be accused
of proselytism even in the royal palace. The king received them in his
private apartments.[598] "What do you want," he said to them. "Sir,"
replied one of the merchants, "we are come about an extraordinary book
that is addressed to you." "Can one of you read it to me?"--"Yes, if
it so please your grace," replied Elyot. "You may repeat the contents
from memory," rejoined the king ... "but, no, read it all; that will
be better. I am ready." Elyot began,

"THE SUPPLICATION OF THE BEGGARS."

[Sidenote: HOW A STATE IS RUINED.]

"To the king our sovereign lord,--

"Most lamentably complaineth of their woeful misery, unto your
highness, your poor daily bedesmen, the wretched hideous monsters, on
whom scarcely, for horror, any eye dare look; the foul unhappy sort of
lepers and other sore people, needy, impotent, blind, lame, and sick,
that live only by alms; how that their number is daily sore increased,
that all the alms of all the well-disposed people of this your realm
are not half enough to sustain them, but that for very constraint they
die for hunger.

"And this most pestilent mischief is come upon your said poor
bedesmen, by the reason that there hath, in the time of your noble
predecessors, craftily crept into this your realm, another sort, not
of impotent, but of strong, puissant, and counterfeit, holy and idle
beggars and vagabonds, who by all the craft and wiliness of Satan are
now increased not only into a great number, but also into a kingdom."

  [598] Ibid.

Henry was very attentive: Elyot continued:

"These are not the shepherds, but the ravenous wolves going in
shepherds' clothing, devouring the flock: bishops, abbots, priors,
deacons, archdeacons, suffragans, priests, monks, canons, friars,
pardoners, and sumners.... The goodliest lordships, manors, lands, and
territories are theirs. Besides this, they have the tenth part of all
the corn, meadow, pasture, grass, wood, colts, calves, lambs, pigs,
geese, and chickens. Over and besides, the tenth part of every
servant's wages, the tenth part of wool, milk, honey, wax, cheese, and
butter. The poor wives must be accountable to them for every tenth
egg, or else she getteth not her rights [_i. e._ absolution] at
Easter.... Finally what get they in a year? Summa totalis: £430,333,
6s. 8d. sterling, whereof not four hundred years past they had not a
penny....

"What subjects shall be able to help their prince, that be after this
fashion yearly polled? What good Christian people can be able to
succour us poor lepers, blind, sore and lame, that be thus yearly
oppressed?... The ancient Romans had never been able to have put all
the whole world under their obeisance, if they had had at home such an
idle sort of cormorants."

No subject could have been found more likely to captivate the king's
attention. "And what doth all this greedy sort of sturdy idle holy
thieves with their yearly exactions that they take of the people?
Truly nothing, but translate all rule, power, lordship, authority,
obedience, and dignity from your grace unto them. Nothing, but that
all your subjects should fall into disobedience and rebellion....
Priests and doves make foul houses; and if you will ruin a state, set
up in it the pope with his monks and clergy.... Send these sturdy
loobies abroad in the world to take them wives of their own, and to
get their living with their labour in the sweat of their faces....
Then shall your commons increase in riches; then shall matrimony be
much better kept; then shall not your sword, power, crown, dignity,
and obedience of your people be translated from you."

When Elyot had finished reading, the king was silent, sunk in thought.
The true cause of the ruin of the state had been laid before him; but
Henry's mind was not ripe for these important truths. At last he said,
with an uneasy manner: "If a man who desires to pull down an old wall,
begins at the bottom, I fear the upper part may chance to fall on his
head."[599] Thus then, in the king's eyes, Fish by attacking the
priests was disturbing the foundations of religion and society. After
this royal verdict, Henry rose, took the book, locked it up in his
desk, and forbade the two merchants to reveal to any one the fact of
their having read it to him.

  [599] The upper part thereof might chance to fall upon his head. Foxe,
  Acts, iv, p. 658.

Shortly after the king had received this copy, on Wednesday the 2nd of
February, the feast of Candlemas, a number of persons, including the
king himself, were to take part in the procession, bearing wax tapers
in their hands. During the night this famous invective was scattered
about all the streets through which the procession had to pass. The
cardinal ordered the pamphlet to be seized, and immediately waited
upon the king. The latter put his hand under his robe, and with a
smile took out the so much dreaded work, and then, as if satisfied
with this proof of independence, he gave it up to the cardinal.

[Sidenote: SUPPLICATIONS OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY.]

While Wolsey replied to Fish by confiscation, Sir Thomas More with
greater liberality, desiring that press should reply to press,
published _The Supplications of the Souls in Purgatory_. "Suppress,"
said they, "the pious stipends paid to the monks, and then Luther's
gospel will come in, Tyndale's testament will be read, heresy will
preach, fasts will be neglected, the saints will be blasphemed, God
will be offended, virtue will be mocked of, vice will run riot, and
England will be peopled with beggars and thieves."[600] The Souls in
Purgatory then call the author of the Beggars' Supplication "a goose,
an ass, a mad dog." Thus did superstition degrade More's noble genius.
Notwithstanding the abuse of the souls in purgatory, the New Testament
was daily read more and more in England.

  [600] Supplication of the Souls in Purgatory. More's Works.




CHAPTER II.

     The two Authorities--Commencement of the Search--Garret at
     Oxford--His flight--His Return and Imprisonment--Escapes and
     takes Refuge with Dalaber--Garret and Dalaber at Prayer--The
     _Magnificat_--Surprise among the Doctors--Clark's
     advice--Fraternal Love at Oxford--Alarm of Dalaber--His
     Arrest and Examination--He is Tortured--Garret and Twenty
     Fellows imprisoned--The Cellar--Condemnation and
     Humiliation.


[Sidenote: COUNCIL OF BISHOPS.]

Wolsey did not stop with Fish's book. It was not that "miserable
pamphlet" only that it was necessary to hunt down; the New Testament
in English had entered the kingdom by surprise; there was the danger.
The gospellers, who presumed to emancipate man from the priests, and
put him in absolute dependence on God, did precisely the reverse of
what Rome demands.[601] The cardinal hastened to assemble the bishops,
and these (particularly Warham and Tonstall, who had long enjoyed the
jests launched against superstition) took the matter seriously when
they were shown that the New Testament was circulating throughout
England. These priests believed with Wolsey, that the authority of the
pope and of the clergy was a dogma to which all others were
subordinate. They saw in the reform an uprising of the human mind, a
desire of thinking for themselves, of judging freely the doctrines and
institutions, which the nations had hitherto received humbly from the
hands of the priests. The new doctors justified their attempt at
enfranchisement by substituting a new authority for the old. It was
the New Testament that compromised the absolute power of Rome. It must
be seized and destroyed, said the bishops. London, Oxford, and above
all Cambridge, those three haunts of heresy, must be carefully
searched. Definitive orders were issued on Saturday, 3rd February,
1526, and the work began immediately.

  [601] Actus meritorius est in potestate hominis. (Duns Scotus in
  Sentent. lib. i. diss. 17.) A man is able to do a meritorious action.

[Sidenote: GARRET'S FLIGHT.]

The first visit of the inquisitors was to Honey Lane, to the house of
the curate of All Hallows. They did not find Garret; they sought after
him at Monmouth's, and throughout the city, but he could not be met
with.[602] "He is gone to Oxford to sell his detestable wares," the
inquisitors were informed, and they set off after him immediately,
determined to burn the evangelist and his books; "so burning hot,"
says an historian, "was the charity of these holy fathers."[603]

  [602] He was searched for through all London. Foxe, Acts, v, p. 421.

  [603] Foxe, Acts, v. p. 421.

On Tuesday, the 6th of February, Garret was quietly selling his books
at Oxford, and carefully noting down his sales in his register, when
two of his friends ran to him exclaiming, "Fly! or else you will be
taken before the cardinal, and thence ... to the Tower." The poor
curate was greatly agitated. "From whom did you learn that?"--"From
Master Cole, the clerk of the assembly, who is deep in the cardinal's
favour." Garret, who saw at once that the affair was serious, hastened
to Anthony Dalaber, who held the stock of the Holy Scriptures at
Oxford; others followed him; the news had spread rapidly, and those
who had bought the book were seized with alarm, for they knew by the
history of the Lollards what the Romish clergy could do. They took
counsel together. The brethren, "for so did we not only call one
another, but were indeed one to another," says Dalaber,[604] decided
that Garret should change his name; that Dalaber should give him a
letter for his brother, the rector of Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, who
was in want of a curate; and that, once in this parish, he should seek
the first opportunity of crossing the sea. The rector was in truth a
"mad papist" (it is Dalaber's expression), but that did not alter
their resolution. They knew of no other resource. Anthony wrote to him
hurriedly; and, on the morning of the 7th of February, Garret left
Oxford without being observed.

  [604] Ibid.

Having provided for Garret's safety, Dalaber next thought of his own.
He carefully concealed in a secret recess of his chamber, at St
Alban's Hall, Tyndale's Testament, and the works of Luther,
OEcolampadius, and others, on the word of God. Then, disgusted with the
scholastic sophisms which he heard in that college, he took with him
the New Testament and the Commentary on the gospel of St. Luke, by
Lambert of Avignon, the second edition of which had just been
published at Strasburg,[605] and went to Gloucester college, where he
intended to study the civil law, not caring to have any thing more to
do with the church.

  [605] In Lucæ Evangelium Commentarii, nunc secundo recogniti et
  locupletati. (Argentorati, 1525.) Commentaries on the gospel of Luke,
  now for the second time revised and enriched.

[Sidenote: HIS RETURN AND IMPRISONMENT.]

During this time, poor Garret was making his way into Dorsetshire. His
conscience could not bear the idea of being, although for a short time
only, the curate of a bigoted priest,--of concealing his faith, his
desires, and even his name. He felt more wretched, although at
liberty, than he could have been in Wolsey's prisons. It is better, he
said within himself, to confess Christ before the judgment seat, than
to seem to approve of the superstitious practices I detest. He went
forward a little, then stopped--and then resumed his course. There was
a fierce struggle between his fears and his conscience. At length,
after a day and a half spent in doubt, his conscience prevailed;
unable to endure any longer the anguish that he felt, he retraced his
steps, returned to Oxford, which he entered on Friday evening, and lay
down calmly in his bed. It was barely past midnight when Wolsey's
agents, who had received information of his return, arrived, and
dragged him from his bed,[606] and delivered him up to Dr. Cottisford,
the commissary of the university. The latter locked him up in one of
his rooms, while London and Higdon, dean of Frideswide, "two arch
papists" (as the chronicler terms them), announced this important
capture to the cardinal. They thought popery was saved, because a poor
curate had been taken.

  [606] Foxe, v. p.422.

[Sidenote: GARRET AND DALABER AT PRAYER.]

Dalaber, engaged in preparing his new room at Gloucester college, had
not perceived all this commotion.[607] On Saturday, at noon, having
finished his arrangements, he double-locked his door, and began to
read the Gospel according to St. Luke. All of a sudden he hears a
knock. Dalaber made no reply; it is no doubt the commissary's
officers. A louder knock was given; but he still remained silent.
Immediately after, there was a third knock, as if the door would be
beaten in. "Perhaps somebody wants me," thought Dalaber. He laid his
book aside, opened the door, and to his great surprise saw Garret,
who, with alarm in every feature, exclaimed, "I am a lost man! They
have caught me!" Dalaber, who thought his friend was with his brother
at Stalbridge, could not conceal his astonishment, and at the same
time he cast an uneasy glance on a stranger who accompanied Garret. He
was one of the college servants who had led the fugitive curate to
Dalaber's new room. As soon as this man had gone away, Garret told
Anthony everything: "Observing that Dr. Cottisford and his household
had gone to prayers, I put back the bolt of the lock with my finger
... and here I am."... "Alas! Master Garret," replied Dalaber, "the
imprudence you committed in speaking to me before that young man has
ruined us both!" At these words, Garret, who had resumed his fear of
the priests, now that his conscience was satisfied, exclaimed with a
voice interrupted by sighs and tears:[608] "For mercy's sake, help me!
Save me!" Without waiting for an answer, he threw off his frock and
hood, begged Anthony to give him a sleeved coat, and thus disguised,
he said: "I will escape into Wales, and from there, if possible, to
Germany and Luther."

  [607] Ibid.

  [608] With deep sighs and plenty of tears. Foxe, v. p. 422.

Garret checked himself; there was something to be done before he left.
The two friends fell on their knees and prayed together; they called
upon God to lead his servant to a secure retreat. That done, they
embraced each other, their faces bathed with tears, and unable to
utter a word.[609]

  [609] That we all bewet both our faces. Ibid. 423.

Silent on the threshold of his door, Dalaber followed both with eyes
and ears his friend's retreating footsteps. Having heard him reach the
bottom of the stairs, he returned to his room, locked the door, took
out his New Testament, and placing it before him, read on his knees
the tenth chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, breathing many a heavy
sigh: .... _Ye shall be brought before governors and kings for my sake
... but fear them not; the very hairs of your head are all numbered_.
This reading having revived his courage, Anthony, still on his knees,
prayed fervently for the fugitive and for all his brethren: "O God, by
thy Holy Spirit endue with heavenly strength this tender and new-born
little flock in Oxford.[610] Christ's heavy cross is about to be laid
on the weak shoulders of thy poor sheep. Grant that they may bear it
with godly patience and unflinching zeal!"

  [610] Ibid.

Rising from his knees, Dalaber put away his book, folded up Garret's
hood and frock, placed them among his own clothes, locked his room
door, and proceeded to the Cardinal's College, (now Christ Church,) to
tell Clark and the other brethren what had happened.[611] They were in
chapel: the evening service had begun; the dean and canons, in full
costume, were chanting in the choir. Dalaber stopped at the door
listening to the majestic sounds of the organ at which Taverner
presided, and to the harmonious strains of the choristers. They were
singing the _Magnificat: My soul doth magnify the Lord.... He hath
holpen his servant Israel_. It seemed to Dalaber that they were
singing Garret's deliverance. But his voice could not join in their
song of praise. "Alas!" he exclaimed, "all my singing and music is
turned into sighing and musing."[612]

  [611] Ibid.

  [612] Ibid.

[Sidenote: RAGE OF THE THREE DOCTORS.]

As he listened, leaning against the entrance into the choir, Dr.
Cottisford, the university commissary, arrived with hasty step, "bare
headed, and as pale as ashes." He passed Anthony without noticing him,
and going straight to the dean appeared to announce some important and
unpleasant news. "I know well the cause of his sorrow," thought
Dalaber as he watched every gesture. The commissary had scarcely
finished his report when the dean arose, and both left the choir with
undisguised confusion. They had only reached the middle of the
anti-chapel when Dr. London ran in, puffing and chafing and stamping,
"like a hungry and greedy lion seeking his prey."[613] All three
stopped, questioned each other, and deplored their misfortune. Their
rapid and eager movements indicated the liveliest emotion; London
above all could not restrain himself. He attacked the commissary, and
blamed him for his negligence, so that at last Cottisford burst into
tears. "Deeds, not tears," said the fanatical London; and forthwith
they despatched officers and spies along every road.

  [613] Foxe, v. p. 424.

Anthony having left the chapel hurried to Clark's to tell him of the
escape of his friend. "We are walking in the midst of wolves and
tigers," replied Clark; "prepare for persecution. _Prudentia
serpentina et simplicitas columbina_ (the wisdom of serpents and the
harmlessness of doves) must be our motto. O God, give us the courage
these evil times require." All in the little flock were delighted at
Garret's deliverance. Sumner and Betts, who had come in, ran off to
tell it to the other brethren in the College,[614] and Dalaber
hastened to Corpus Christi. All these pious young men felt themselves
to be soldiers in the same army, travellers in the same company,
brothers in the same family. Fraternal love nowhere shone so brightly
in the days of the Reformation as among the Christians of Great
Britain. This is a feature worthy of notice.

  [614] To tell unto our other brethren; (for there were divers else in
  that college.) Ibid.

Fitzjames, Udal, and Diet were met together in the rooms of the
latter, at Corpus Christi college, when Dalaber arrived. They ate
their frugal meal, with downcast eyes and broken voices, conversing of
Oxford, of England, and of the perils hanging over them.[615] Then
rising from table they fell on their knees, called upon God for aid,
and separated, Fitzjames taking Dalaber with him to St. Alban's Hall.
They were afraid that the servant of Gloucester College had betrayed
him.

  [615] Considering our state and peril at hand. Ibid.

[Sidenote: DALABER'S ALARM.]

The disciples of the gospel at Oxford passed the night in great
anxiety. Garret's flight, the rage of the priests, the dangers of the
rising church, the roaring of a storm that filled the air and
re-echoed through the long cloisters--all impressed them with terror.
On Sunday the 11th of February, Dalaber, who was stirring at five in
the morning, set out for his room in Gloucester College. Finding the
gates shut, he walked up and down beneath the walls in the mud, for it
had rained all night. As he paced to and fro along the solitary street
in the obscure dawn, a thousand thoughts alarmed his mind. It was
known, he said to himself, that he had taken part in Garret's flight;
he would be arrested, and his friend's escape would be revenged on
him.[616] He was weighed down by sorrow and alarm; he sighed
heavily;[617] he imagined he saw Wolsey's commissioners demanding the
names of his accomplices, and pretending to draw up a proscription
list at his dictation; he recollected that on more than one occasion
cruel priests had extorted from the Lollards the names of their
brethren, and terrified at the possibility of such a crime, he
exclaimed; "O God, I swear to thee that I will accuse no man, ... I
will tell nothing but what is perfectly well known."[618]

  [616] My musing head being full of forecasting cares. Foxe, v. p. 423.

  [617] My sorrowful heart flowing with doleful sighs. Ibid.

  [618] I fully determined in my conscience before God that I would
  accuse no man. Ibid.

At last, after an hour of anguish, he was able to enter the college.
He hastened in, but when he tried to open his door, he found that the
lock had been picked. The door gave way to a strong push, and what a
sight met his eyes! his bedstead overturned, the blankets scattered on
the floor, his clothes all confusion in his wardrobe, his study broken
into and left open. He doubted not that Garret's dress had betrayed
him; and he was gazing at this sad spectacle in alarm, when a monk who
occupied the adjoining rooms came and told him what had taken place:
"The commissary and two proctors, armed with swords and bills, broke
open your door in the middle of the night. They pierced your bed-straw
through and through to make sure Garret was not hidden there;[619]
they carefully searched every nook and corner, but were not able to
discover any traces of the fugitive." At these words Dalaber breathed
again ... but the monk had not ended. "I have orders," he added, "to
send you to the prior." Anthony Dunstan, the prior, was a fanatical
and avaricious monk; and the confusion into which this message threw
Dalaber was so great, that he went just as he was, all bespattered
with mud, to the rooms of his superior.

  [619] With bills and swords thrusted through my bed-straw. Ibid. p.
  425

[Sidenote: DALABER INTERROGATED.]

The prior, who was standing with his face towards the door, looked at
Dalaber from head to foot as he came in. "Where did you pass the
night?" he asked. "At St. Alban's Hall with Fitzjames." The prior with
a gesture of incredulity continued: "Was not Master Garret with you
yesterday?"--"Yes."--"Where is he now?"--"I do not know." During this
examination, the prior had remarked a large double gilt silver ring on
Anthony's finger, with the initials A. D.[620] "Show me that," said
the prior. Dalaber gave him the ring, and the prior believing it to be
of solid gold, put it on his own finger, adding with a cunning leer:
"This ring is mine: it bears my name. A is for _Anthony_, and D for
_Dunstan_." "Would to God," thought Dalaber, "that I were as well
delivered from his company, as I am sure of being delivered of my
ring."

  [620] Then had he spied on my fore-finger a big ring of silver, very
  well double-gilted. Foxe. v. p. 425.

At this moment the chief beadle, with two or three of the commissary's
men, entered and conducted Dalaber to the chapel of Lincoln college,
where three ill-omened figures were standing beside the altar: they
were Cottisford, London, and Higdon. "Where is Garret?" asked London;
and pointing to his disordered dress, he continued: "Your shoes and
garments covered with mud prove that you have been out all night with
him. If you do not say where you have taken him, you will be sent to
the Tower."--"Yes," added Higdon, "to _Little-ease_ [one of the most
horrible dungeons in the prison,] and you will be put to the torture,
do you hear?" Then the three doctors spent two hours attempting to
shake the young man by flattering promises and frightful threats; but
all was useless. The commissary then gave a sign, the officers stepped
forward, and the judges ascended a narrow staircase leading to a large
room situated above the commissary's chamber. Here Dalaber was
deprived of his purse and girdle, and his legs were placed in the
stocks, so that his feet were almost as high as his head.[621] When
that was done, the three doctors devoutly went to mass.

  [621] Ibid. p. 426.

Poor Anthony, left alone in this frightful position, recollected the
warning Clark had given him two years before. He groaned heavily and
cried to God:[622] "O Father! that my suffering may be for thy glory,
and for the consolation of my brethren! Happen what may, I will never
accuse one of them." After this noble protest, Anthony felt an
increase of peace in his heart; but a new sorrow was reserved for him.

  [622] Ibid. p. 427.

[Sidenote: GARRET AND OTHERS IMPRISONED.]

Garret, who had directed his course westwards, with the intention of
going to Wales, had been caught at Hinksey, a short distance from
Oxford. He was brought back, and thrown into the dungeon in which
Dalaber had been placed after the torture. Their gloomy presentiments
were to be more than fulfilled.

In fact Wolsey was deeply irritated at seeing the college [Christ
Church], which he had intended should be "the most glorious in the
world," made the haunt of heresy, and the young men, whom he had so
carefully chosen, become distributors of the New Testament. By
favouring literature, he had had in view the triumph of the clergy,
and literature had on the contrary served to the triumph of the
Gospel. He issued his orders without delay, and the university was
filled with terror. John Clark, John Fryth, Henry Sumner, William
Betts, Richard Taverner, Richard Cox, Michael Drumm, Godfrey Harman,
Thomas Lawney, Radley, and others besides of Cardinal's College; Udal,
Diet, and others of Corpus Christi; Eden and several of his friends of
Magdalene; Goodman, William Bayley, Robert Ferrar, John Salisbury of
Gloucester, Barnard, and St. Mary's Colleges; were seized and thrown
into prison. Wolsey had promised them glory; he gave them a dungeon,
hoping in this manner to save the power of the priests, and to repress
that awakening of truth and liberty which was spreading from the
continent to England.

Under Cardinal's College there was a deep cellar sunk in the earth, in
which the butler kept his salt fish. Into this hole these young men,
the choice of England, were thrust. The dampness of this cave, the
corrupted air they breathed, the horrible smell given out by the fish,
seriously affected the prisoners, already weakened by study. Their
hearts were bursting with groans, their faith was shaken, and the most
mournful scenes followed each other in this foul dungeon. The wretched
captives gazed on one another, wept, and prayed. This trial was
destined to be a salutary one to them: "Alas!" said Fryth on a
subsequent occasion, "I see that besides the word of God, there is
indeed a second purgatory ... but it is not that invented by Rome; it
is the cross of tribulation to which God has nailed us."[623]

  [623] God naileth us to the cross to heal our infirmities. Tyndale and
  Fryth's Works, iii. p. 91. (ed. Russell.)

[Sidenote: CONDEMNATION AND HUMILIATION.]

At last the prisoners were taken out one by one and brought before
their judges; two only were released. The first was Betts, afterwards
chaplain to Anne Boleyn: they had not been able to find any
prohibited books in his room, and he pleaded his cause with great
talent. The other was Taverner; he had hidden Clark's books under his
school-room floor, where they had been discovered; but his love for
the arts saved him: "Pshaw! he is only a musician," said the cardinal.

All the rest were condemned. A great fire was kindled at the top of
the market-place;[624] a long procession was marshalled, and these
unfortunate men were led out, each bearing a fagot. When they came
near the fire, they were compelled to throw into it the heretical
books that had been found in their rooms, after which they were taken
back to their noisome prison. There seemed to be a barbarous pleasure
in treating these young and generous men so vilely. In other countries
also, Rome was preparing to stifle in the flames the noblest geniuses
of France, Spain, and Italy. Such was the reception letters and the
Gospel met with from popery in the sixteenth century.

  [624] There was made a great fire upon the top of Carfax. Foxe, v. p.
  428.

Every plant of God's must be beaten by the wind, even at the risk of
its being uprooted; if it receives only the gentle rays of the sun,
there is reason to fear that it will dry up and wither before it
produces fruit. _Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die,
it abideth alone._ There was to arise one day a real church in
England, for the persecution had begun.

We have to contemplate still further trials.




CHAPTER III.

     Persecution at Cambridge--Barnes arrested--A grand
     Search--Barnes at Wolsey's Palace--Interrogated by the
     Cardinal--Conversation between Wolsey and Barnes--Barnes
     threatened with the Stake--His Fall and public
     Penance--Richard Bayfield--His Faith and
     Imprisonment--Visits Cambridge--Joins Tyndale--The
     Confessors in the Cellar at Oxford--Four of them die--The
     rest liberated.


[Sidenote: SUPREMACY OF SELF IN ROMANISM.]

Cambridge, which had produced Latimer, Bilney, Stafford, and Barnes,
had at first appeared to occupy the front rank in the English
reformation. Oxford by receiving the crown of persecution seemed now
to have outstripped the sister university. And yet Cambridge was to
have its share of suffering. The investigation had begun at Oxford on
Monday the 5th of February, and on the very same day two of Wolsey's
creatures, Dr. Capon, one of his chaplains, and Gibson, a
sergeant-at-arms, notorious for his arrogance, left London for
Cambridge. Submission, was the pass-word of popery. "Yes, submission,"
was responded from every part of Christendom by men of sincere piety
and profound understanding; "submission to the legitimate authority
against which Roman-catholicism has rebelled." According to their
views the traditionalism and pelagianism of the Romish church had set
up the supremacy of fallen reason in opposition to the divine
supremacy of the word and of grace. The external and apparent
sacrifice of self which Roman-catholicism imposes,--obedience to a
confessor or to the pope, arbitrary penance, ascetic practices, and
celibacy,--only served to create, and so to strengthen and perpetuate,
a delusion as to the egotistic preservation of a sinful personality.
When the Reformation proclaimed liberty, so far as regarded ordinances
of human invention, it was with the view of bringing man's heart and
life into subjection to their real Sovereign. The reign of God was
commencing; that of the priests must needs come to an end. No man can
serve two masters. Such were the important truths which gradually
dawned upon the world, and which it became necessary to extinguish
without delay.

[Sidenote: SEARCH FOR THE HERETICAL BOOKS.]

On the day after their arrival in Cambridge, on Tuesday the 6th of
February, Capon and Gibson went to the convocation house, where
several of the doctors were talking together. Their appearance caused
some anxiety among the spectators, who looked upon the strangers with
distrust. On a sudden Gibson moved forward, put his hand on Barnes,
and arrested him in the presence of his friends.[625] The latter were
frightened, and this was what the sergeant wanted. "What!" said they,
"the prior of the Augustines, the restorer of letters in Cambridge,
arrested by a sergeant!" This was not all. Wolsey's agents were to
seize the books come from Germany, and their owners; Bilney, Latimer,
Stafford, Arthur, and their friends, were all to be imprisoned, for
they possessed the New Testament. Thirty members of the university
were pointed out as suspected; and some miserable wretches, who had
been bribed by the inquisitors, offered to show the place in every
room where the prohibited books were hidden. But while the necessary
preparations were making for this search, Bilney, Latimer, and their
colleagues, being warned in time, got the books removed; they were
taken away not only by the doors but by the windows, even by the
roofs, and anxious inquiry was made for sure places in which they
could be concealed.

  [625] Suddenly arrested Barnes openly in the convocation house to make
  all others afraid. Foxe, v. p. 416.

This work was hardly ended, when the vice-chancellor of the
university, the sergeant-at-arms, Wolsey's chaplain, the proctors, and
the informers began their rounds. They opened the first room, entered,
searched, and found nothing. They passed on to the second, there was
nothing. The sergeant was astonished, and grew angry. On reaching the
third room, he ran directly to the place that had been pointed
out,--still there was nothing. The same thing occurred every where;
never was inquisitor more mortified. He dared not lay hands on the
persons of the evangelical doctors; his orders bore that he was to
seize the books and _their owners_. But as no books were found, there
could be no prisoners. Luckily there was one man (the prior of the
Augustines) against whom there were particular charges. The sergeant
promised to compensate himself at Barnes's expense for his useless
labours.

The next day Gibson and Capon set out for London with Barnes. During
this mournful journey the prior, in great agitation, at one time
determined to brave all England, and at another trembled like a leaf.
At last their journey was ended; the chaplain left his prisoner at
Parnell's house, close by the stocks.[626] Three students (Coverdale,
Goodwin, and Field) had followed their master to cheer him with their
tender affection.

  [626] Foxe, v. p. 416.

[Sidenote: CONVERSATION BETWEEN WOLSEY AND BARNES.]

On Thursday (8th February) the sergeant conducted Barnes to the
cardinal's palace at Westminster; the wretched prior, whose enthusiasm
had given way to objection, waited all day before he could be
admitted. What a day! Will no one come to his assistance? Doctor
Gardiner, Wolsey's secretary, and Fox, his steward, both old friends
of Barnes, passed through the gallery in the evening, and went up to
the prisoner, who begged them to procure him an audience with the
cardinal. When night had come, these officers introduced the prior
into the room where their master was sitting, and Barnes, as was
customary, fell on his knees before him. "Is this the Doctor Barnes
who is accused of heresy?" asked Wolsey, in a haughty tone, of Fox and
Gardiner. They replied in the affirmative. The cardinal then turning
to Barnes, who was still kneeling, said to him ironically, and not
without reason: "What, master doctor, had you not sufficient scope in
the Scriptures to teach the people; but my golden shoes, my poleaxes,
my pillars, my golden cushions, my crosses, did so sore offend you,
that you must make us a laughing-stock, _ridiculum caput_, amongst the
people? We were jollily that day laughed to scorn. Verily it was a
sermon more fit to be preached on a stage than in a pulpit; for at the
last you said I wore a pair of _red_ gloves--I should say _bloody_
gloves (quoth you)....Eh! what think you, master doctor?" Barnes,
wishing to elude these embarrassing questions, answered vaguely: "I
spoke nothing but the truth out of the Scriptures, according to my
conscience and according to the old doctors." He then presented to the
cardinal a statement of his teaching.

Wolsey received the papers with a smile: "Oh, ho!" said he as he
counted the six sheets, "I perceive you intend to stand to your
articles and to show your learning." "With the grace of God," said
Barnes. Wolsey then began to read them, and stopped at the sixth
article, which ran thus: "I will never believe that one man may, by
the law of God, be bishop of two or three cities, yea, of a whole
country, for it is contrary to St. Paul, who saith: _I have left thee
behind, to set in every city a bishop_." Barnes did not quote
correctly, for the apostle says: "_to ordain elders in every
city_."[627] Wolsey was displeased at this thesis: "Ah! this touches
me," he said: "Do you think it wrong (seeing the ordinance of the
church) that one bishop should have so many cities underneath him?" "I
know of no ordinance of the church," Barnes replied, "as concerning
this thing, but Paul's saying only."

  [627] [Greek text]. Titus, i, 5.

Although this controversy interested the cardinal, the personal attack
of which he had to complain touched him more keenly. "Good," said
Wolsey; and then with a condescension hardly to be expected from so
proud a man, he deigned almost to justify himself. "You charge me with
displaying a royal pomp; but do you not understand that, being called
to represent his majesty, I must strive by these means to strike
terror into the wicked?"--"It is not your pomp or your poleaxes,"
Barnes courageously answered, "that will save the king's person....
God will save him, who said: _Per me reges regnant_." Barnes, instead
of profiting by the cardinal's kindness to present an humble
justification, as Dean Colet had formerly done to Henry VIII, dared
preach him a second sermon to his face. Wolsey felt the colour mount
to his cheeks. "Well, gentlemen," said he, turning to Fox and
Gardiner, "you hear him! Is this the wise and learned man of whom you
spoke to me?"

[Sidenote: BARNES FALLS.]

At these words both steward and secretary fell on their knees, saying:
"My lord, pardon him for mercy's sake."--"Can you find ten or even six
doctors of divinity willing to swear that you are free from heresy?"
asked Wolsey. Barnes offered twenty honest men, quite as learned as
himself, or even more so. "I must have doctors in divinity, men as old
as yourself."--"That is impossible," said the prior. "In that case you
must be burnt," continued the cardinal. "Let him be taken to the
Tower." Gardiner and Fox offering to become his sureties, Wolsey
permitted him to pass the night at Parnell's.

"It is no time to think of sleeping," said Barnes as he entered the
house, "we must write." Those harsh and terrible words, _you must be
burnt_, resounded continually in his ears. He dictated all night to
his three young friends a defence of his articles.

The next day he was taken before the chapter, at which Clarke, bishop
of Bath, Standish, and other doctors were present. His judges laid
before him a long statement, and said to him: "Promise to read this
paper in public, without omitting or adding a single word." It was
then read to him. "I would die first," was his reply. "Will you abjure
or be burnt alive?" said his judges; "take your choice." The
alternative was dreadful. Poor Barnes, a prey to the deepest agony,
shrank at the thought of the stake; then, suddenly his courage
revived, and he exclaimed: "I had rather be burnt than abjure."
Gardiner and Fox did all they could to persuade him. "Listen to
reason," said they craftily: "your articles are true; that is not the
question. We want to know whether by your death you will let error
triumph, or whether you would rather remain to defend the truth, when
better days may come."

They entreated him; they put forward the most plausible motives; from
time to time they uttered the terrible words, _burnt alive!_ His blood
froze in his veins; he knew not what he said or did ... they placed a
paper before him--they put a pen in his hand--his head was bewildered,
he signed his name with a deep sigh. This unhappy man was destined at
a later period to be a faithful martyr of Jesus Christ; but he had not
yet learnt to "resist even unto blood." Barnes had fallen.

[Sidenote: HIS PUBLIC PENANCE.]

On the following morning (Sunday, 11th February) a solemn spectacle
was preparing at St. Paul's. Before daybreak, all were astir in the
prison of the poor prior; and at eight o'clock, the knight-marshal
with his tipstaves, and the warden of the Fleet prison, with his
billmen, conducted Barnes to St. Paul's, along with four of the Hanse
merchants who had first brought to London the New Testament of Jesus
Christ in English. The fifth of these pious merchants held an immense
taper in his hands. A persevering search had discovered that it was
these men to whom England was indebted for the so much dreaded book;
their warehouses were surrounded and their persons arrested. On the
top of St. Paul's steps was a platform, and on the platform a throne,
and on the throne the cardinal, dressed in scarlet--like a "bloody
antichrist," says the chronicler. On his head glittered the hat of
which Barnes had spoken so ill; around him were thirty-six bishops,
abbots, priors, and all his doctors, dressed in damask and satin; the
vast cathedral was full. The bishop of Rochester having gone into a
pulpit placed at the top of the steps, Barnes and the merchants, each
bearing a faggot, were compelled to kneel and listen to a sermon
intended to cure these poor creatures of that taste for insurrection
against popery which was beginning to spread in every quarter. The
sermon ended, the cardinal mounted his mule, took his station under a
magnificent canopy, and rode off. After this Barnes and his five
companions walked three times round a fire, lighted before the cross
at the north gate of the cathedral. The dejected prior, with downcast
head, dragged himself along, rather than walked. After the third turn,
the prisoners threw their faggots into the flames; some "heretical"
books also were flung in; and the bishop of Rochester having given
absolution to the six penitents, they were led back to prison to be
kept there during the lord cardinal's pleasure. Barnes could not weep
now; the thought of his relapse, and of the effects so guilty an
example might produce, had deprived him of all moral energy. In the
month of August, he was led out of prison and confined in the
Augustine convent.

[Sidenote: THE MONK OF BURY.]

Barnes was not the only man at Cambridge upon whom the blow had
fallen. Since the year 1520, a monk named Richard Bayfield had been an
inmate of the abbey of Bury St. Edmunds. His affability delighted
every traveller. One day, when engaged as chamberlain in receiving
Barnes, who had come to visit Doctor Ruffam, his fellow-student at
Louvain, two men entered the convent. They were pious persons, and of
great consideration in London, where they carried on the occupation of
brick-making, and had risen to be wardens of their guild. Their names
were Maxwell and Stacy, men "well grafted in the doctrine of Christ,"
says the historian, who had led many to the Saviour by their
conversation and exemplary life. Being accustomed to travel once
a-year through the counties to visit their brethren, and extend a
knowledge of the Gospel, they used to lodge, according to the usages
of the time, in the convents and abbeys. A conversation soon arose
between Barnes, Stacy, and Maxwell, which struck the lay-brother.
Barnes, who had observed his attention, gave him, as he was leaving
the convent, a New Testament in Latin, and the two brick-makers added
a New Testament in English, with _The Wicked Mammon_ and _The
Obedience of a Christian Man_. The lay-brother ran and hid the books
in his cell, and for two years read them constantly. At last he was
discovered, and reprimanded; but he boldly confessed his faith. Upon
this the monks threw him into prison, set him in the stocks, put a gag
in his mouth, and cruelly whipped him, to prevent his speaking of
grace.[628] The unhappy Bayfield remained nine months in this
condition.

  [628] Foxe, iv. p. 681.

When Barnes repeated his visit to Bury at a later period, he did not
find the amiable chamberlain at the gates of the abbey. Upon inquiry
he learnt his condition, and immediately took steps to procure his
deliverance. Dr. Ruffam came to his aid: "Give him to me," said
Barnes, "I will take him to Cambridge." The prior of the Augustines
was at that time held in high esteem; his request was granted, in the
hope that he would lead back Bayfield to the doctrines of the church.
But the very reverse took place: intercourse with the Cambridge
brethren strengthened the young monk's faith. On a sudden his
happiness vanished. Barnes, his friend and benefactor, was carried to
London, and the monks of Bury St. Edmunds, alarmed at the noise this
affair created, summoned him to return to the abbey. But Bayfield,
resolving to submit to their yoke no longer, went to London, and lay
concealed at Maxwell and Stacy's. One day, having left his
hiding-place, he was crossing Lombard Street, when he met a priest
named Pierson and two other religious of his order, with whom he
entered into a conversation which greatly scandalized them. "You must
depart forthwith," said Maxwell and Stacy to him on his return.
Bayfield received a small sum of money from them, went on board a
ship, and as soon as he reached the continent, hastened to find
Tyndale. During this time scenes of a very different nature from those
which had taken place at Cambridge, but not less heart-rending, were
passing at Oxford.

[Sidenote: THE CONFESSORS IN THE CELLAR AT OXFORD.]

The storm of persecution was raging there with more violence than at
Cambridge. Clark and the other confessors of the name of Christ were
still confined in their under-ground prison. The air they breathed,
the food they took (and they ate nothing but salt fish[629]), the
burning thirst this created, the thoughts by which they were agitated,
all together combined to crush these noble-hearted men. Their bodies
wasted day by day; they wandered like spectres up and down their
gloomy cellar. Those animated discussions in which the deep questions
then convulsing Christendom were so eloquently debated were at an end;
they were like shadow meeting shadow. Their hollow eyes cast a vague
and haggard glance on one another, and after gazing for a moment, they
passed on without speaking. Clark, Sumner, Bayley, and Goodman,
consumed by fever, feebly crawled along, leaning against their dungeon
walls. The first, who was also the eldest, could not walk without the
support of one of his fellow-prisoners. Soon he was quite unable to
move, and lay stretched upon the damp floor. The brethren gathered
round him, sought to discover in his features whether death was not
about to cut short the days of him who had brought many of them to the
knowledge of Christ. They repeated to him slowly the words of
Scripture, and then knelt down by his side and uttered a fervent
prayer.

  [629] Foxe, v, p. 5.

Clark, feeling his end draw near, asked for the communion. The jailors
conveyed his request to their master; the noise of the bolts was soon
heard, and a turnkey, stepping into the midst of the disconsolate
band, pronounced a cruel _no!_[630] On hearing this, Clark looked
towards heaven, and exclaimed with a father of the church: _Crede et
manducasti_, Believe and thou hast eaten.[631] He was lost in thought:
he contemplated the crucified Son of God; by faith he ate and drank
the flesh and blood of Christ, and experienced in his inner life the
strengthening action of the Redeemer. Men might refuse him the host,
but Jesus had given him his body; and from that hour he felt
strengthened by a living union with the King of heaven.

  [630] Not be suffered to receive the communion, being in prison. Ibid.
  p. 428.

  [631] Ibid. Habe fidem et tecum est quem non vides, (Have faith, and
  he whom you do not see is with you,) says Augustine in another place.
  See Serm. 235, 272. Tract. 26, Evang. Joh.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF FOUR PRISONERS.]

Not alone did Clark descend into the shadowy valley: Sumner, Bayley,
and Goodman were sinking rapidly. Death, the gloomy inhabitant of this
foul prison, had taken possession of these four friends.[632] Their
brethren addressed fresh solicitations to the cardinal, at that time
closely occupied in negotiations with France, Rome, and Venice.[633]
He found means, however, to give a moment to the Oxford martyrs; and
just as these Christians were praying over their four dying
companions, the commissioner came and informed them, that "his
lordship, of his great goodness, permitted the sick persons to be
removed to their own chambers." Litters were brought, on which the
dying men were placed and carried to their rooms;[634] the doors were
closed again upon those whose lives this frightful dungeon had not yet
attacked.

  [632] Taking their death in the same prison. Foxe, v, p. 5.

  [633] State Papers, i, p. 169.

  [634] Foxe, v, p. 5.

It was the middle of August. The wretched men who had passed six
months in the cellar were transported in vain to their chambers and
their beds; several members of the university ineffectually tried by
their cares and their tender charity to recall them to life. It was
too late. The severities of popery had killed these noble witnesses.
The approach of death soon betrayed itself; their blood grew cold,
their limbs stiff, and their bedimmed eyes sought only Jesus Christ,
their everlasting hope. Clark, Sumner, and Bayley died in the same
week. Goodman followed close upon them.[635]

  [635] Ibid.

This unexpected catastrophe softened Wolsey. He was cruel only as far
as his interest and the safety of the church required. He feared that
the death of so many young men would raise public opinion against him,
or that these catastrophes would damage his college; perhaps even some
sentiment of humanity may have touched his heart. "Set the rest at
liberty," he wrote to his agents, "but upon condition that they do not
go above ten miles from Oxford." The university beheld these young men
issue from their living tomb pale, wasted, weak, and with faltering
steps. At that time they were not men of mark; it was their youth that
touched the spectators' hearts; but in after-years they all occupied
an important place in the church. They were Cox, who became Bishop of
Ely, and tutor to Edward the Prince Royal; Drumm, who under Cranmer
became one of the six preachers at Canterbury; Udal, afterwards master
of Westminster and Eton schools; Salisbury, dean of Norwich, and then
bishop of Sodor and Man, who in all his wealth and greatness often
recalled his frightful prison at Oxford as a title to glory; Ferrar,
afterwards Cranmer's chaplain, bishop of St. David's, and a martyr
even unto death, after an interval of thirty years; Fryth, Tyndale's
friend, to whom this deliverance proved only a delay; and several
others. When they came forth from their terrible dungeon, their
friends ran up to them, supported their faltering steps, and embraced
them amidst floods of tears. Fryth quitted the university not long
after and went to Flanders.[636] Thus was the tempest stayed which had
so fearfully ravaged Oxford. But the calm was of no long duration; an
unexpected circumstance became perilous to the cause of the
Reformation.

  [636] Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii. p. 75 (edit. Russel).




CHAPTER IV.

     Luther's Letter to the King--Henry's Anger--His
     Reply--Luther's Resolution--Persecutions--Barnes
     escapes--Proclamations against the New Testament--W. Roy to
     Caiaphas--Third Edition of the New Testament--The Triumph of
     Law and Liberty--Hacket attacks the Printer--Hacket's
     Complaints--A Seizure--The Year 1526 in England.


[Sidenote: LUTHER'S LETTER TO THE KING.]

Henry was still under the impression of the famous _Supplication of
the Beggars_, when Luther's interference increased his anger. The
letter which, at the advice of Christiern, king of Denmark, this
reformer had written to him in September 1525, had miscarried. The
Wittemberg doctor hearing nothing of it, had boldly printed it, and
sent a copy to the king. "I am informed," said Luther, "that your
Majesty is beginning to favour the Gospel,[637] and to be disgusted
with the perverse race that fights against it in your noble
kingdom.... It is true that, according to Scripture, _the kings of the
earth take counsel together against the Lord_, and we cannot,
consequently, expect to see them favourable to the truth. How
fervently do I wish that this miracle may be accomplished in the
person of your Majesty."[638]

  [637] Majestatem tuam cæpisse favere Evangelio. Cochlæus, p. 136.

  [638] Huic miraculo in Majestate tua quam opto ex totis medullis.
  Ibid. p. 127.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S REPLY.]

We may imagine Henry's wrath as he read this letter. "What!" said he,
"does this apostate monk dare print a letter addressed to us, without
having even sent it, or at the least without knowing if we have ever
received it?... And as if that were not enough, he insinuates that we
are among his partisans.... He wins over also one or two wretches,
born in our kingdom, and engages them to translate the New Testament
into English, adding thereto certain prefaces and poisonous glosses."
Thus spoke Henry. The idea that his name should be associated with
that of the Wittemberg monk called all the blood into his face. He
will reply right royally to such unblushing impudence. He summoned
Wolsey forthwith. "Here!" said he, pointing to a passage concerning
the prelate, "here! read what is said of you!" And then he read aloud:
"_Illud monstrum et publicum odium Dei et hominum, cardinalis
Eboracensis, pestis illa regni tui_. You see, my lord, you are a
_monster_, an object of _hatred_ both to God and man, the _scourge_ of
my kingdom!" The king had hitherto allowed the bishops to do as they
pleased, and observed a sort of neutrality. He now determined to lay
it aside and begin a crusade against the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but
he must first answer this impertinent letter. He consulted Sir Thomas
More, shut himself in his closet, and dictated to his secretary a
reply to the reformer: "You are ashamed of the book you have written
against me," he said, "I would counsel you to be ashamed of all that
you have written. They are full of disgusting errors and frantic
heresies; and are supported by the most audacious obstinacy. Your
venemous pen mocks the church, insults the fathers, abuses the saints,
despises the apostles, dishonours the holy virgin, and blasphemes God,
by making him the author of evil.... And after all that, you claim to
be an author whose like does not exist in the world!"[639]

  [639] Tantus autor haberi postulas, quantus nec hodie quisquam sit.
  Cochlæus, p. 127.

"You offer to publish a book in my praise.... I thank you!... You will
praise me most by abusing me; you will dishonour me beyond measure if
you praise me. I say with Seneca: _Tam turpe tibi sit laudari a
turpibus, quam si lauderis ob turpia_."[640]

  [640] Let it be as disgraceful to you to be praised by the vile, as if
  you were praised for vile deeds.

This letter, written by the _king of the English to the king of the
heretics_,[641] was immediately circulated throughout England bound up
with Luther's epistle. Henry, by publishing it, put his subjects on
their guard against the _unfaithful_ translations of the New
Testament, which were besides about to be burnt everywhere. "The
grapes seem beautiful," he said, "but beware how you wet your lips
with the wine made from them, for the adversary hath mingled poison
with it."

  [641] Rex Anglorum Regi hæreticorum scribit. Strype, Mem. i. p. 91.
  The title of the pamphlet was _Litterarum quibus invictus Pr. Henricus
  VIII. etc. etc. respondit ad quandam Epistolam M. Lutheri ad se
  missam_.

[Sidenote: LUTHER'S FIRMNESS.]

Luther, agitated by this rude lesson, tried to excuse himself. "I said
to myself, _There are twelve hours in the day_. Who knows? perhaps I
may find one lucky hour to gain the King of England. I therefore laid
my humble epistle at his feet; but alas! the swine have torn it. I am
willing to be silent ... but as regards my doctrine, I cannot impose
silence on it. It must cry aloud, it must bite. If any king imagines
he can make me retract my faith, he is a dreamer. So long as one drop
of blood remains in my body, I shall say no. Emperors, kings, the
devil, and even the whole universe, cannot frighten me when faith is
concerned. I claim to be proud, very proud, exceedingly proud. If my
doctrine had no other enemies than the king of England, Duke George,
the pope and their allies, all these soap-bubbles ... one little
prayer would long ago have worsted them all. Where are Pilate, Herod,
and Caiaphas now? Where are Nero, Domitian, and Maximilian? Where are
Arius, Pelagius, and Manes?--Where are they?... Where all our scribes
and all our tyrants will soon be.--But Christ? Christ is the same
always.

"For a thousand years the Holy Scriptures have not shone in the world
with so much brightness as now.[642] I wait in peace for my last hour;
I have done what I could. O princes, my hands are clean from your
blood; it will fall on your own heads."

  [642] Als in tausend Jahren nicht gewesen ist. Luth. Opp. xix. p. 501.

Bowing before the supreme royalty of Jesus Christ, Luther spoke thus
boldly to King Henry, who contested the rights of the word of God.

A letter written against the reformer was not enough for the bishops.
Profiting by the wound Luther had inflicted on Henry's self-esteem,
they urged him to put down this revolt of the human understanding,
which threatened (as they averred) both the popedom and the monarchy.
They commenced the persecution. Latimer was summoned before Wolsey,
but his learning and presence of mind procured his dismissal. Bilney
also, who had been ordered to London, received an injunction not to
preach _Luther's doctrines_. "I will not preach Luther's doctrines, if
there are any peculiar to him," he said; "but I can and I must preach
the doctrine of Jesus Christ, although Luther should preach it too."
And finally Garret, led into the presence of his judges, was seized
with terror, and fell before the cruel threats of the bishop. When
restored to liberty, he fled from place to place,[643] endeavouring to
hide his sorrow, and to escape from the despotism of the priests,
awaiting the moment when he should give his life for Jesus Christ.

  [643] Foxe, v. p. 428.

[Sidenote: BARNES ESCAPES.]

The adversaries of the Reformation were not yet satisfied. The New
Testament continued to circulate, and depots were formed in several
convents. Barnes, a prisoner in the Augustine monastery in London, had
regained his courage, and loved his Bible more and more. One day about
the end of September, as three or four friends were reading in his
chamber, two simple peasants, John Tyball and Thomas Hilles, natives
of Bumpstead in Essex, came in. "How did you come to a knowledge of
the truth?" asked Barnes. They drew from their pockets some old
volumes containing the Gospels, and a few of the Epistles in English.
Barnes returned them with a smile. "They are nothing," he told them,
"in comparison with the new edition of the New Testament,"[644] a copy
of which the two peasants bought for three shillings and two-pence.
"Hide it carefully," said Barnes. When this came to the ears of the
clergy, Barnes was removed to Northampton to be burnt at the stake;
but he managed to escape; his friends reported that he was drowned;
and while strict search was making for him during a whole week along
the sea-coast, he secretly went on board a ship, and was carried to
Germany. "The cardinal will catch him even now," said the bishop of
London, "whatever amount of money it may cost him." When Barnes was
told of this, he remarked: "I am a poor simple wretch, not worth the
tenth penny they will give for me. Besides, if they burn me, what will
they gain by it?... The sun and the moon, fire and water, the stars
and the elements--yea, and also stones shall defend this cause against
them, _rather than the truth should perish_." Faith had returned to
Barnes's feeble heart.

  [644] Which books he did little regard, and made a twit of it.
  Tyball's Confession in Bible Annals. i. p. 184.

His escape added fuel to the wrath of the clergy. They proclaimed,
throughout the length and breadth of England, that the Holy Scriptures
contained an _infectious poison_,[645] and ordered a general search
after the word of God. On the 24th of October, 1526, the bishop of
London enjoined on his archdeacons to seize all translations of the
New Testament in English with or without glosses; and, a few days
later, the archbishop of Canterbury issued a mandate against all the
books which should contain "any particle of the New Testament."[646]
The primate remembered that a spark was sufficient to kindle a large
fire.

  [645] Libri pestiferum virus in se continentes, in promiscuam
  provinciæ Cant. multitudinem sunt dispersi. (Wilkins, Concilia, iii.
  p. 706.) Books containing an infectious poison are scattered in all
  directions through the diocese of Canterbury.

  [646] Vel aliquam ejus particulam. Ibid.

[Sidenote: ROY'S SATIRE.]

On hearing of this order, William Roy, a sarcastic writer, published
a violent satire, in which figured _Judas_ (Standish), _Pilate_
(Wolsey), and _Caiaphas_ (Tonstall). The author exclaimed with energy:

    God, of his goodness, grudged not to die,
      Man to deliver from deadly damnation;
    Whose will is, that we should know perfectly
      What he here hath done for our salvation.
      O cruel Caiaphas! full of crafty conspiration,
    How durst thou give them false judgment
    To burn God's word--the Holy Testament.[647]

  [647] Satire of W. Roy, printed in the Harl. Misc., vol. ix, p. 77,
  (ed. 1809).

The efforts of Caiaphas and his colleagues were indeed useless: the
priests were undertaking a work beyond their strength. If by some
terrible revolution all social forms should be destroyed in the world,
the living church of the elect, a divine institution in the midst of
human institutions, would still exist by the power of God, like a rock
in the midst of the tempest, and would transmit to future generations
the seeds of Christian life and civilization. It is the same with the
word, the creative principle of the church. It cannot perish here
below. The priests of England had something to learn on this matter.

While the agents of the clergy were carrying out the archiepiscopal
mandate, and a merciless search was making everywhere for the New
Testaments from Worms, a new edition was discovered, fresh from the
press, of a smaller and more portable, and consequently more dangerous
size. It was printed by Christopher Eyndhoven of Antwerp, who had
consigned it to his correspondents in London. The annoyance of the
priests was extreme, and Hackett, the agent of Henry VIII in the Low
Countries, immediately received orders to get this man punished. "We
cannot deliver judgment without inquiry into the matter," said the
lords of Antwerp; "we will therefore have the book translated into
Flemish." "God forbid," said Hackett in alarm, "What! would you also
on your side of the ocean translate this book into the language of the
people?" "Well then," said one of the judges, less conscientious than
his colleagues, "let the king of England send us a copy of each of the
books he has burnt, and we will burn them likewise." Hackett wrote to
Wolsey for them, and as soon as they arrived the court met again.
Eyndhoven's counsel called upon the prosecutor to point out the
_heresies_ contained in the volume. The margrave (an officer of the
imperial government) shrank from the task, and said to Hackett, "I
give up the business!" The charge against Eyndhoven was dismissed.

[Sidenote: LAW AND LIBERTY.]

Thus did the Reformation awaken in Europe the slumbering spirit of law
and liberty. By enfranchising thought from the yoke of popery, it
prepared the way for other enfranchisements; and by restoring the
authority of the word of God, it brought back the reign of the law
among nations long the prey of turbulent passions and arbitrary power.
Then, as at all times, religious society forestalled civil society,
and gave it those two great principles of order and liberty, which
popery compromises or annuls. It was not in vain that the magistrates
of a Flemish city, enlightened by the first dawn of the Reformation,
set so noble an example; the English, who were very numerous in the
Hanse Towns, thus learnt once more the value of that civil and
religious liberty which is the time-honoured right of England, and of
which they were in after-years to give other nations the so much
needed lessons.

"Well then," said Hackett, who was annoyed at their setting the law
above his master's will, "I will go and buy all these books, and send
them to the cardinal, that he may burn them." With these words he left
the court. But his anger evaporating,[648] he set off for Malines to
complain to the regent and her council of the Antwerp decision.
"What!" said he, "you punish those who circulate false money, and you
will not punish still more severely the man who coins it?--in this
case, he is the printer." "But that is just the point in dispute,"
they replied; "we are not sure the money is _false_."--"How can it be
otherwise," answered Henry's agent, "since the bishops of England have
declared it so?" The imperial government, which was not very
favourably disposed towards England, ratified Eyndhoven's acquittal,
but permitted Hackett to burn all the copies of the New Testament he
could seize. He hastened to profit by this concession, and began
hunting after the Holy Scriptures, while the priests eagerly came to
his assistance. In their view, as well as in that of their English
colleagues, the supreme decision in matter of faith rested not with
the word of God but with the pope; and the best means of securing this
privilege to the pontiff was to reduce the Bible to ashes.

  [648] My choler was descended. Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i, p.
  129.

Notwithstanding these trials, the year 1526 was a memorable one for
England. The English New Testament had been circulated from the shores
of the Channel to the borders of Scotland, and the Reformation had
begun in that island by the word of God. The revival of the sixteenth
century was in no country less than in England the emanation of a
royal mandate. But God, who had disseminated the Scriptures over
Britain, in defiance of the rulers of the nation, was about to make
use of their passions to remove the difficulties which opposed the
final triumph of his plans. We here enter upon a new phasis in the
history of the Reformation; and having studied the work of God in the
faith of the little ones, we proceed to contemplate the work of man in
the intrigues of the great ones of the earth.




CHAPTER V.

     Wolsey desires to be revenged--The Divorce
     suggested--Henry's Sentiments towards the Queen--Wolsey's
     first Steps--Longland's Proceedings--Refusal of Margaret of
     Valois--Objection of the Bishop of Tarbes--Henry's
     uneasiness--Catherine's Alarm--Mission to Spain.


[Sidenote: WOLSEY DESIRES TO BE REVENGED.]

[Sidenote: THE DIVORCE SUGGESTED.]

Wolsey, mortified at not being able to obtain the pontifical throne,
to which he had so ardently aspired, and being especially irritated by
the ill-will of Charles V, meditated a plan which, entirely
unsuspected by him, was to lead to the enfranchisement of England from
the papal yoke. "They laugh at me, and thrust me into the second
rank," he had exclaimed. "So be it! I will create such a confusion in
the world as has not been seen for ages.... I will do it, even should
England be swallowed up in the tempest!"[649] Desirous of exciting
imperishable hatred between Henry VIII and Charles V, he had
undertaken to break the marriage which Henry VII and Ferdinand the
Catholic had planned to unite for ever their families and their
crowns. His hatred of Charles was not his only motive. Catherine had
reproached him for his dissolute life,[650] and he had sworn to be
revenged. There can be no doubt about Wolsey's share in the matter.
"The _first terms_ of the divorce were put forward by me," he told the
French ambassador. "I did it," he added, "to cause a lasting
separation between the houses of England and Burgundy."[651] The best
informed writers of the sixteenth century, men of the most opposite
parties, Pole, Polydore, Virgil, Tyndale, Meteren, Pallavicini,
Sanders, and Roper, More's son-in-law, all agree in pointing to Wolsey
as the instigator of that divorce, which has become so famous.[652] He
desired to go still farther, and after inducing the king to put away
his queen, he hoped to prevail on the pope to depose the emperor.[653]
It was not his passion for Anne Boleyn, as so many of the Romish
fabulists have repeated; but the passion of a cardinal for the triple
crown which gave the signal of England's emancipation. Offended pride
is one of the most active principles of human nature.

  [649] Sandoval, i. p. 350. Ranke, Deutsche Gesch. iii. p. 17.

  [650] Malos oderat mores. (Polyd. Virg. p. 685.) She hated his
  depraved habits.

  [651] Le Grand, Hist. du divorce, Preuves, p. 186.

  [652] Instigator et auctor concilii existimibatur (Pole, Apology). He
  was furious mad, and imagined this divorcement between the king and
  the queen (Tyndale's Works, i. p. 465). See also Sanderus, 7 and 9;
  Polyd. Virg. p. 685; Meteren, Hist. of the Low Countries, p. 20;
  Pallavicini, Conc. Trident, i, p. 203, etc. A contrary assertion of
  Wolsey's has been adduced against these authorities in the
  _Pamphleteer_, No. 42, p. 336; but a slight acquaintance with his
  history soon teaches us that veracity was the least of his virtues.

  [653] Le Grand, Hist. du divorce, Preuves, p. 65, 69.

Wolsey's design was a strange one, and difficult of execution, but not
impossible. Henry was living apparently on the best terms with
Catherine; on more than one occasion Erasmus had spoken of the royal
family of England as the pattern of the domestic virtues. But the most
ardent of Henry's desires was not satisfied; he had no son; those whom
the queen had borne him had died in their infancy, and Mary alone
survived. The deaths of these little children, at all times so
heart-rending, were particularly so in the palace of Greenwich. It
appeared to Catherine that the shade of the last Plantagenet,
immolated on her marriage altar, came forth to seize one after another
the heirs she gave to the throne of England, and to carry them away to
his tomb. The queen shed tears almost unceasingly, and implored the
divine mercy, while the king cursed his unhappy fate. The people
seemed to share in the royal sorrow; and men of learning and piety
(Longland was among their number)[654] declared against the validity
of the marriage. They said that "the papal dispensations had no force
when in opposition to the law of God." Yet hitherto Henry had rejected
every idea of a divorce.[655]

  [654] Jampridem conjugium regium, veluti infirmum. Polyd. Virg. p.
  685.

  [655] That matrimony which the king at first seemed not disposed to
  annul. Strype, i, p. 135.

The times had changed since 1509. The king had loved Catherine: her
reserve, mildness, and dignity, had charmed him. Greedy of pleasure
and applause, he was delighted to see his wife content to be the quiet
witness of his joys and of his triumphs. But gradually the queen had
grown older, her Spanish gravity had increased, her devout practices
were multiplied, and her infirmities, become more frequent, had left
the king no hope of having a son. From that hour, even while
continuing to praise her virtues, Henry grew cold towards her person,
and his love by degrees changed into repugnance. And then he thought
that the death of his children might be a sign of God's anger. This
idea had taken hold of him, and induced him to occupy apartments
separate from the queen's.[656]

  [656] Burnet. vol. i. p. 20 (London, 1841.) Letter from Grynæus to
  Bucer. Strype, i, p. 135.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S FIRST STEPS.]

Wolsey judged the moment favourable for beginning the attack. It was
in the latter months of 1526, when calling Longland, the king's
confessor, to him, and concealing his principal motive, he said: "You
know his majesty's anguish. The stability of his crown and his
everlasting salvation seem to be compromised alike. To whom can I
unbosom myself, if not to you, who must know the inmost secrets of his
soul?" The two bishops resolved to awaken Henry to the perils incurred
by his union with Catherine;[657] but Longland insisted that Wolsey
should take the first steps.

  [657] Quamprimum regi patefaciendum. (Polyd. Virg. p. 685.) That
  forthwith it should be declared to the king.

The cardinal waited upon the king, and reminded him of his scruples
before the betrothal; he exaggerated those entertained by the nation,
and speaking with unusual warmth, he entreated the king to remain no
longer in such danger:[658] "The holiness of your life and the
legitimacy of your succession are at stake." "My good father," said
Henry, "you would do well to consider the weight of the stone that you
have undertaken to move.[659] The queen is a woman of such exemplary
life that I have no motive for separating from her."

  [658] Vehementer orat ne se patiatur in tanto versari discrimine.
  (Ibid.) He earnestly begged him not to suffer himself to be exposed to
  such hazard.

  [659] Bone pater, vide bene quale saxum suo loco jacens movere
  coneris. Ibid.

The cardinal did not consider himself beaten; three days later he
appeared before the king accompanied by the bishop of Lincoln. "Most
mighty prince," said the confessor, who felt bold enough to speak
after the cardinal, "you cannot, like Herod, have your brother's
wife.[660] I exhort and conjure you, as having the care of your
soul,[661] to submit the matter to competent judges." Henry consented,
and perhaps not unwillingly.

  [660] Like another Herodes. More's Life, p. 129.

  [661] Ipse cui de salute animæ tuæ cura est, _hortor_, _rogo_,
  _persuadeo_. Polyd. Virg. p. 686.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY PROPOSES MARGARET.]

It was not enough for Wolsey to separate Henry from the emperor; he
must, for greater security, unite him to Francis I. The King of
England shall repudiate the aunt of Charles V, and then marry the
sister of the French king. Proud of the success he had obtained in
the first part of his plan, Wolsey entered upon the second. "There is
a princess," he told the king, "whose birth, graces, and talents charm
all Europe. Margaret of Valois, sister of King Francis, is superior to
all of her sex, and no one is worthier of your alliance."[662] Henry
made answer that it was a serious matter, requiring deliberate
examination. Wolsey, however, placed in the king's hands a portrait of
Margaret, and it has been imagined that he even privily caused her
sentiments to be sounded. Be that as it may, the sister of Francis I
having learnt that she was pointed at as the future queen of England,
rebelled at the idea of taking from an innocent woman a crown she had
worn so nobly. "The French king's sister knows too much of Christ to
consent unto such wickedness," said Tyndale.[663] Margaret of Valois
replied: "Let me hear no more of a marriage that can be effected only
at the expense of Catherine of Aragon's happiness and life."[664] The
woman who was destined in future years to fill the throne of England
was then residing at Margaret's court. Shortly after this, on the 24th
of January 1527, the sister of Francis I, married Henry d'Albret, king
of Navarre.

  [662] Mulier præter cæteras digna matrimonio tuo. Polyd. Virg p. 686.

  [663] Works (ed. Russell), vol. i. p. 464.

  [664] Princeps illa, mulier optima, noluerit quicquam audire de
  nuptiis, quæ nuptiæ non possunt conjungi sine miserabili Catharinæ
  casu atque adeo interitu. (Polyd. Virg. p. 687.) That princess, a most
  noble woman, would not listen to any proposal for an alliance which
  could not be made without involving Catherine in ruin and death.

Henry VIII, desirous of information with regard to his favourite's
suggestion, commissioned Fox, his almoner, Pace, dean of St. Paul's,
and Wakefield, professor of Hebrew at Oxford, to study the passages of
Leviticus and Deuteronomy which related to marriage with a brother's
wife. Wakefield, who had no wish to commit himself, asked whether
Henry was _for_ or _against_ the divorce.[665] Pace replied to this
servile hebraist that the king wanted nothing but the truth.

  [665] Utrum staret ad te an contra te? Le Grand, Preuves, p. 2.

But who would take the first public step in an undertaking so
hazardous? Every one shrank back; the terrible emperor alarmed them
all. It was a French bishop that hazarded the step; bishops meet us at
every turn in this affair of the divorce, with which bishops have so
violently reproached the Reformation. Henry, desirous of excusing
Wolsey, pretended afterwards that the objections of the French prelate
had preceded those of Longland and the cardinal. In February 1527,
Francis I, had sent an embassy to London, at the head of which was
Gabriel de Grammont, bishop of Tarbes, with the intention to procure
the hand of Mary of England. Henry's ministers having inquired
whether the engagements of Francis with the queen dowager of Portugal
did not oppose the commission with which the French bishop was
charged, the latter answered: "I will ask you in turn what has been
done to remove the impediments which opposed the marriage of which the
Princess Mary is issue."[666] They laid before the ambassador the
dispensation of Julius II, which he returned, saying, that the bull
was not _sufficient_, seeing that such a marriage was forbidden _jure
divino_,[667] and he added: "Have you English a different gospel from
ours?"[668]

  [666] What had been here provided for taking away the impediment of
  that marriage. (State Papers, i. p. 199.) Le Grand (vol. i. p. 17.)
  discredits the objections of the bishop of Tarbes; but this letter
  from Wolsey to Henry VIII establishes them incontrovertibly. And
  besides, Du Bellay, in a letter afterwards quoted by Le Grand himself,
  states the matter still more strongly than Wolsey.

  [667] Wherewith the pope could not dispense, _nisi ex urgentissima
  causa_. Wolsey to Henry VIII, dated 8th July. State Papers, vol. i, p.
  199.

  [668] Anglos, qui tuo imperio subsunt, hoc idem evangelium colere quod
  nos colimus. (Sanders, 12.) The English, who are under thy rule,
  follow the same gospel that we follow.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S UNEASINESS.]

The king, when he heard these words (as he informs us himself), was
filled with fear and horror.[669] Three of the most respected bishops
of Christendom united to accuse him of incest! He began to speak of it
to certain individuals: "The scruples of my conscience have been
terribly increased (he said) since the bishop spoke of this matter
before my council in exceedingly plain words."[670] There is no reason
to believe that these _terrible_ troubles of which the king speaks
were a mere invention on his part. A disputed succession might again
plunge England into civil war. Even if no pretenders should spring up,
might they not see a rival house, a French prince for instance, wedded
to Henry's daughter, reigning over England? The king, in his anxiety,
had recourse to his favourite author, Thomas Aquinas, and this _angel
of the schools_ declared his marriage unlawful. Henry next opened the
Bible, and found this threat against the man who took his brother's
wife: "He shall be _childless_!" The denunciation increased his
trouble, for he had no heir. In the midst of this darkness a new
perspective opened before him. His conscience might be unbound; his
desire to have a younger wife might be gratified; he might have a
son!... The king resolved to lay the matter before a commission of
lawyers, and this commission soon wrote volumes.[671]

  [669] Quæ oratio quanto metu ac horrore animum nostrum turbaverit.
  (Which speech has troubled our mind with much fear and horror.)
  Henry's speech to the Lord Mayor and common council, at his palace of
  Bridewell, 8th November 1528. (Hall, p. 754; Wilkins, Concil. iii. p.
  714.)

  [670] Du Bellay's letter in Le Grand. Preuves, p. 218.

  [671] So as the books excrescunt in magna volumina. Wolsey to Henry
  VIII. State Papers, vol. i, p. 200.

[Sidenote: CATHERINE'S ALARM.]

During all this time Catherine, suspecting no evil, was occupied in
her devotions. Her heart, bruised by the death of her children and by
the king's coldness, sought consolation in prayer both privately and
in the royal chapel. She would rise at midnight and kneel down upon
the cold stones, and never missed any of the canonical services. But
one day (probably in May or June 1527) some officious person informed
her of the rumours circulating in the city and at court. Bursting with
anger and alarm, and all in tears, she hastened to the king, and
addressed him with the bitterest complaints.[672] Henry was content to
calm her by vague assurances; but the unfeeling Wolsey, troubling
himself still less than his master about Catherine's emotion, called
it, with a smile, "a short tragedy."

  [672] The queen hath broken with your grace thereof. State Papers,
  vol. i. p. 200.

The offended wife lost no time: it was necessary that the emperor
should be informed promptly, surely, and accurately of this
unprecedented insult. A letter would be insufficient, even were it not
intercepted. Catherine therefore determined to send her servant
Francis Philip, a Spaniard, to her nephew; and to conceal the object
of his journey, they proceeded, after the _tragedy_, to play a
_comedy_ in the Spanish style. "My mother is sick and desires to see
me," said Philip. Catherine begged the king to refuse her servant's
prayer; and Henry, divining the stratagem, resolved to employ trick
against trick.[673] "Philip's request is very proper," he made answer;
and Catherine, _from regard to her husband_, consented to his
departure. Henry meantime had given orders that, "notwithstanding any
safe conduct, the said Philip should be arrested and detained at
Calais, in such a manner, however, that no one should know whence the
stoppage proceeded."

  [673] The king's highness knowing great collusion and dissimulation
  between them, doth also dissemble. Knight to Wolsey. Ibid. p. 215.

It was to no purpose that the queen indulged in a culpable
dissimulation; a poisoned arrow had pierced her heart, and her words,
her manners, her complaints, her tears, the numerous messages she
sent, now to one and now to another, betrayed the secret which the
king wished still to conceal.[674] Her friends blamed her for this
publicity; men wondered what Charles would say when he heard of his
aunt's distress; they feared that peace would be broken; but
Catherine, whose heart was "rent in twain," was not to be moved by
diplomatic considerations. Her sorrow did not check Henry; with the
two motives which made him eager for a divorce--the scruples of his
conscience and the desire of an heir--was now combined a third still
more forcible. A woman was about to play an important part in the
destinies of England.

  [674] By her behaviour, manner, words, and messages sent to diverse,
  hath published, divulged, etc. Ibid. p. 280.




CHAPTER VI.

     Anne Boleyn appointed Maid of Honour to Catherine--Lord
     Percy becomes attached to her--Wolsey separates them--Anne
     enters Margaret's Household--Siege of Rome;
     Cromwell--Wolsey's Intercession for the Popedom--He demands
     the Hand of Renée of France for Henry--Failure--Anne
     re-appears at Court--Repels the king's Advances--Henry's
     Letter--He resolves to accelerate the Divorce--Two Motives
     which induce Anne to refuse the Crown--Wolsey's Opposition.


[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN AND LORD PERCY.]

Anne Boleyn, who had been placed by her father at the court of France,
had returned to England with Sir Thomas, then ambassador at Paris, at
the time that an English army made an incursion into Normandy (1522.)
It would appear that she was presented to the queen about this period,
and appointed one of Catherine's maids of honour. The following year
was a memorable one to her from her first sorrow.

Among the young noblemen in the cardinal's household was Lord Percy,
eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland. While Wolsey was closeted
with the king, Percy was accustomed to resort to the queen's
apartments, where he passed the time among her ladies. He soon felt a
sincere passion for Anne, and the young maid of honour, who had been
cold to the addresses of the gentlemen at the court of Francis,
replied to the affections of the heir of Northumberland. The two young
people already indulged in day-dreams of a quiet, elegant, and happy
life in their noble castles of the north; but such dreams were fated
to be of short duration.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY SEPARATES THE YOUNG LOVERS.]

Wolsey hated the Norfolks, and consequently the Boleyns. It was to
counterbalance their influence that he had been first introduced at
court. He became angry, therefore, when he saw one of his household
suing for the hand of the daughter and niece of his enemies. Besides,
certain partisans of the clergy accused Anne of being friendly to the
Reformation.[675]... It is generally believed that even at this period
Wolsey had discovered Henry's eyes turned complacently on the young
maid of honour, and that this induced him to thwart Percy's love; but
this seems improbable. Of all the women in England, Anne was the one
whose influence Wolsey would have had most cause to fear, and he
really did fear it; and he would have been but too happy to see her
married to Percy. It has been asserted that Henry prevailed on the
cardinal to thwart the affection of the two young people; but in that
case did he confide to Wolsey the real motive of his opposition? Did
the latter entertain criminal intentions? Did he undertake to yield up
to dishonour the daughter and niece of his political adversaries? This
would be horrible, but it is possible, and may even be deduced from
Cavendish's narrative; yet we will hope that it was not so. If it
were, Anne's virtue successfully baffled the infamous plot.

  [675] Meteren's Hist. of the Low Countries, folio, 20.

But be that as it may, one day when Percy was in attendance upon the
cardinal, the latter rudely addressed him: "I marvel at your folly,
that you should attempt to contract yourself with that girl without
your father's or the king's consent. I command you to break with her."
Percy burst into tears, and besought the cardinal to plead his cause.
"I charge you to resort no more into her company," was Wolsey's cold
reply,[676] after which he rose up and left the room. Anne received an
order at the same time to leave the court. Proud and bold, and
ascribing her misfortune to Wolsey's hatred, she exclaimed as she
quitted the palace, "I will be revenged for this insult." But she had
scarcely taken up her abode in the gothic Halls of Hever Castle, when
news still more distressing overwhelmed her. Percy was married to Lady
Mary Talbot. She wept long and bitterly, and vowed against the young
nobleman who had deserted her a contempt equal to her hatred of the
cardinal. Anne was reserved for a more illustrious, but more unhappy
fate.

  [676] Cavendish's Wolsey. p. 123. Cavendish was present at this
  conversation.

This event necessarily rendered her residence in this country far from
attractive to Anne Boleyn. "She did not stay long in England," says
Burnet, following Camden; "she served queen Claude of France till her
death, and after that she was taken into service by King Francis'
sister." Anne Boleyn, lady-in-waiting to Margaret of Valois, was
consoled at last. She indulged in gaieties with all the vivacity of
her age, and glittered among the youngest and the fairest at all the
court festivities.

In Margaret's house she met the most enlightened men of the age, and
her understanding and heart were developed simultaneously with the
graces. She began to read, without thoroughly understanding it, the
holy book in which her mistress (as Brantome informs us) found
consolation and repose, and to direct a few light and passing
thoughts to that "mild Emmanuel," to whom Margaret addressed such
beautiful verses.

[Sidenote: CAPTURE OF ROME--CROMWELL.]

At last Anne returned definitively to England. It has been asserted
that the queen-regent, fearing that Henry after the battle of Pavia
would invade France, had sent Anne to London to dissuade him from it.
But it was a stronger voice than hers which stopped the king of
England. "Remain quiet," wrote Charles V to him; "I have the stag in
my net, and we have only to think of sharing the spoils." Margaret of
Valois having married the king of Navarre at the end of January 1527,
and quitted Paris and her brother's court, it is supposed that Sir
Thomas Boleyn, who was unwilling that his daughter should take up her
abode in the Pyrenees, recalled her to England probably in the winter
or spring of the same year. "There is not the least evidence that she
came to it earlier," says a modern author.[677] She appeared once more
at court, and the niece of the Duke of Norfolk soon eclipsed her
companions, "by her excellent gesture and behaviour,"[678] as we learn
from a contemporary unfriendly to the Boleyns. All the court was
struck by the regularity of her features, the expression of her eyes,
the gentleness of her manners, and the majesty of her carriage.[679]
"She was a beautiful creature," says an old historian, "well
proportioned, courteous, amiable, very agreeable, and a skilful
musician."[680]

  [677] Turner, Hist. Henry VIII. ii. p. 185.

  [678] Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 120.

  [679] Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt, in Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p.
  424.

  [680] Meteren's Hist. of the Low Countries, folio. 20.

While entertainments were following close upon each other at the court
of Henry VIII, a strange rumour filled all England with surprise. It
was reported that the imperialist soldiers had taken Rome by assault,
and that some Englishmen were among those who had mounted the breach.
One Thomas Cromwell was specially named[681]--the man who nearly
twenty years before had obtained certain indulgences from Julius II,
by offering him some jars of English confectionary. This soldier
carried with him the New Testament of Erasmus, and he is said to have
learnt it by heart during the campaign. Being gay, brave, and
intelligent, he entertained, from reading the gospel and seeing Rome,
a great aversion for the policy, superstitions, and disorders of the
popedom. The day of the 7th May 1527 decided the tenor of his life. To
destroy the papal power became his dominant idea. On returning to
England he entered the cardinal's household.

  [681] Foxe, vol. v. p. 365.

However, the captive pope and cardinals wrote letters "filled with
tears and groans."[682] Full of zeal for the papacy, Wolsey ordered a
public fast. "The emperor will never release the pope, unless he be
compelled," he told the king. "Sir, God has made you _defender of the
faith_; save the church and its head!"--"My lord," answered the king
with a smile, "I assure you that this war between the emperor and the
pope is not for the faith, but for temporal possessions and
dominions."

  [682] Plenas lacrymarum et miseriæ. State Papers, vol. i.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S EMBASSY TO FRANCE.]

But Wolsey would not be discouraged; and, on the 3rd of July, he
passed through the streets of London, riding a richly caparisoned
mule, and resting his feet on gilt stirrups, while twelve hundred
gentlemen accompanied him on horseback. He was going to entreat
Francis to aid his master in saving Clement VII. He had found no
difficulty in prevailing upon Henry; Charles talked of carrying the
pope to Spain, and of permanently establishing the apostolic see in
that country.[683] Now, how could they obtain the divorce from a
_Spanish_ pope? During the procession, Wolsey seemed oppressed with
grief, and even shed tears;[684] but he soon raised his head and
exclaimed: "My heart is inflamed, and I wish that it may be said of
the pope _per secula sempiterna_,

               "Rediit Henrici octavi virtute serena."

  [683] The see apostolic should perpetually remain in Spain. Ibid. i.
  p. 227.

  [684] I saw the lord cardinal weep very tenderly. Cavendish, p. 151.

Desirous of forming a close union between France and England for the
accomplishment of his designs, he had cast his eyes on the princess
Renée, daughter of Louis XII, and sister-in-law to Francis I, as the
future wife of Henry VIII. Accordingly the treaty of alliance between
the two crowns having been signed at Amiens on the 18th of August
(1527), Francis, with his mother and the cardinal, proceeded to
Compiégne, and there Wolsey, styling Charles the most obstinate
defender of Lutheranism,[685] promising "perpetual _conjunction_ on
the one hand [between France and England], and perpetual _disjunction_
on the other." [between England and Germany],[686] demanded Renée's
hand for king Henry. Staffileo, dean of Rota, affirmed that the pope
had been able to permit the marriage between Henry and Catherine only
by an error of the keys of St. Peter.[687] This avowal, so remarkable
on the part of the dean of one of the first jurisdictions of Rome,
induced Francis' mother to listen favourably to the cardinal's demand.
But whether this proposal was displeasing to Renée, who was destined
on a future day to profess the pure faith of the Gospel with greater
earnestness than Margaret of Valois, or whether Francis was not
over-anxious for a union that would have given Henry rights over the
duchy of Brittany, she was promised to the son of the Duke of Ferrara.
It was a check to the cardinal; but it was his ill fortune to receive
one still more severe on his return to England.

  [685] Omnium maxime dolosus et hæresis Lutherianæ fautor acerrimus.
  (State Papers, i. p. 274.) By far the most cunning and violent
  favourer of the Lutheran heresy.

  [686] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, i. p. 186.

  [687] Nisi clave errante. (State Papers, i. p. 272.) Unless by an
  erring key.

[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN'S SUCCESS.]

The daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, (who had been created Viscount
Rochford in 1525,) was constantly at court, "where she nourished in
great estimation and favour," says Cavendish, "having always a private
indignation against the cardinal for breaking off the pre-contract
made between Lord Percy and her," little suspecting that Henry had had
any share in it.[688] Her beauty, her graceful carriage, her black
hair, oval face, and bright eyes, her sweet voice in singing, her
skill and dignity in the dance, her desire to please which was not
entirely devoid of coquetry, her sprightliness, the readiness of her
repartees, and above all the amiability of her character, won every
heart. She brought to Greenwich and to London the polished manners of
the court of Francis I. Every day (it was reported) she invented a new
style of dress, and set the fashion in England. But to all these
qualities, she added modesty, and even imposed it on others by her
example. The ladies of the court, who had hitherto adopted a different
fashion (says her greatest enemy), covered the neck and bosom as she
did;[689] and the malicious, unable to appreciate Anne's motives,
ascribed this modesty on the young lady's part to a desire to hide a
secret deformity.[690] Numerous admirers once more crowded round Anne
Boleyn, and among others, one of the most illustrious noblemen and
poets of England, Sir Thomas Wyatt, a follower of Wickliffe. He
however, was not the man destined to replace the son of the Percies.

  [688] For all this while she knew nothing of the king's intended
  purpose, said one of his adversaries. Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 129.

  [689] Ad illius imitationem reliquæ regiæ ancillæ colli et pectoris
  superiora, quæ antea nuda gestabant, operire coeperunt. Sanders, p. 16.
  In imitation of her, the other ladies of the court began to cover
  their neck and bosom which formerly they had worn exposed.

  [690] See Sanders, Ibid. It is useless to refute Sanders' stories. We
  refer our readers to Burnet's Hist. of the Reformation, to Lord
  Herbert's life of Henry VIII, to Wyatt, and others. We need only read
  Sanders to estimate at their true value the _foul calumnies_, as these
  writers term them, of the man whom they style the _Roman legendary_.

[Sidenote: ANNE REJECTS THE KING.]

Henry, absorbed in anxiety about his divorce from Catherine, had
become low-spirited and melancholy. The laughter, songs, repartees,
and beauty of Anne Boleyn struck and captivated him, and his eyes were
soon fixed complacently on the young maid of honour. Catherine was
more than forty years old, and it was hardly to be expected that so
susceptible a man as Henry would have made, as Job says, _a covenant
with his eyes_ _not to think upon a maid_. Desirous of showing his
admiration, he presented Anne, according to usage, with a costly
jewel; she accepted and wore it, and continued to dance, laugh, and
chatter as before, without attaching particular importance to the
royal present. Henry's attentions became more continuous; and he took
advantage of a moment when he found Anne alone to declare his
sentiments. With mingled emotion and alarm, the young lady fell
trembling at the king's feet, and exclaimed, bursting into tears: "I
think, most noble and worthy king, your majesty speaks these words in
mirth to prove me.... I will rather lose my life than my virtue."[691]
Henry gracefully replied, that he should at least continue to hope.
But Anne, rising up, proudly made answer: "I understand not, most
mighty king, how you should retain any such hope; your wife I cannot
be, both in respect of mine own unworthiness, and also because you
have a queen already. Your mistress I will not be." Anne kept her
word. She continued to show the king, even after this interview, all
the respect that was due to him; but on several occasions she proudly,
violently even, repelled his advances.[692] In this age of gallantry,
we find her resisting for nearly six years all the seductions Henry
scattered round her. Such an example is not often met with in the
history of courts. The books she had read in Margaret's palace gave
her a secret strength. All looked upon her with respect; and even the
queen treated her with politeness. Catherine showed, however, that she
had remarked the king's preference. One day, as she was playing at
cards with her maid of honour, while Henry was in the room, Anne
frequently holding the _king_, she said: "My Lady Anne, you have good
hap to stop ever at a _king_; but you are not like others, you will
have all or none." Anne blushed: from that moment Henry's attentions
acquired more importance; she resolved to withdraw from them, and
quitted the court with Lady Rochford.

  [691] Sloane MSS. No. 2495; Turner's Hist. Eng. ii. p. 196.

  [692] Tanto vehementius preces regias illa repulit. (Sanders, p. 17.)
  So much the more vehemently she repelled the king's entreaties.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S LETTER TO ANNE.]

The king, who was not accustomed to resistance, was extremely grieved;
and having learnt that Anne would not return to the court either with
or without her mother, sent a courier to Hever with a message and a
letter for her. If we recollect the manners of the age of Henry VIII,
and how far the men, in their relations with the gentler sex, were
strangers to that reserve which society now imposes upon them, we
cannot but be struck by the king's respectful tone: He writes thus in
French:--

     "As the time seems to me very long since I heard from you or
     concerning your health, the great love I have for you has
     constrained me to send this bearer to be better informed
     both of your health and pleasure; particularly, because
     since my last parting with you, I have been told that you
     have entirely changed the mind in which I left you, and that
     you neither mean to come to court with your mother nor any
     other way; which report, if true, I cannot enough marvel at,
     being persuaded in my own mind that I have never committed
     any offence against you; and it seems hard, in return for
     the great love I bear you, to be kept at a distance from the
     person and presence of the woman in the world that I value
     the most. And if you love me with as much affection as I
     hope you do, I am sure the distance of our two persons would
     be equally irksome to you, though this does not belong so
     much to the mistress as to the servant.

     "Consider well, my mistress, how greatly your absence
     afflicts me. I hope it is not your will that it should be
     so; but if I heard for certain that you yourself desired it,
     I could but mourn my ill-fortune, and strive by degrees to
     abate of my great folly.

     "And so for lack of time I make an end of this rude letter,
     beseeching you to give the bearer credence in all he will
     tell you from me. Written by the hand of your entire
     servant,

     "H. R."[693]

  [693] Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 347. It is difficult to fix the order
  and chronology of Henry's letters to Anne Boleyn. This is the second
  in the Vatican Collection, but it appears to us to be of older date.
  It is considered as written in May 1528; we are inclined to place it
  in the autumn of 1527. The originals of these letters, chiefly in old
  French, are still preserved in the Vatican, having been stolen from
  the royal cabinet and conveyed thither.

The word _servant_ (serviteur) employed in this letter explains the
sense in which Henry used the word _mistress_. In the language of
chivalry, the latter term expressed a person to whom the lover had
surrendered his heart.

It would seem that Anne's reply to this letter was the same she had
made to the king from the very first; and Cardinal Pole mentions more
than once her obstinate refusal of an adulterous love.[694] At last
Henry understood Anne's virtue; but he was far from _abating of his
great folly_, as he had promised. That tyrannical selfishness, which
the prince often displayed in his life, was shown particularly in his
amours. Seeing that he could not attain his end by illegitimate means,
he determined to break, as quickly as possible, the bonds which united
him to the queen. Anne's virtue was the third cause of Henry's
divorce.

  [694] Concubina enim tua fieri pudica mulier nolebat, uxor volebat.
  Illa cujus amore rex deperibat, pertinacissime negabat sui corporis
  potestatem. (Polus ad Regem, p. 176.) For a modest woman, though
  willing to be thy wife refused to become thy concubine. Though a king
  was consumed by love for her, she obstinately refused to yield to him
  the power over her person. Cardinal Pole is a far more trust-worthy
  authority than Sanders.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S OPPOSITION.]

His resolution being once taken, it must needs be carried out. Henry
having succeeded in bringing Anne back to court, procured a private
interview with her, offered her his crown, and seizing her hand, took
off one of her rings. But Anne, who would not be the king's mistress,
refused also to be his wife. The glory of a crown could not dazzle
her, said Wyatt, and two motives in particular counterbalanced all the
prospects of greatness which were set before her eyes. The first was
her respect for the queen: "How could I injure a princess of such
great virtue?" she exclaimed.[695] The second was the fear that a
union with "one that was her lord and her king," would not give her
that freedom of heart and that liberty which she would enjoy by
marrying a man of the same rank with herself.[696]

  [695] The love she bare even to the queen whom the served, that was
  also a personage of great virtue. Wyatt, Mem. of A. B. p. 428.

  [696] Ibid.

Yet the noblemen and ladies of Henry's court whispered to one another
that Anne would certainly become queen of England. Some were tormented
by jealousy; others, her friends, were delighted at the prospect of a
rapid advancement. Wolsey's enemies in particular were charmed at the
thought of ruining the favourite. It was at the very moment when all
these emotions were so variously agitating the court that the
cardinal, returning from his embassy to Francis, re-appeared in
London, where an unexpected blow struck him.

Wolsey was expressing his grief to Henry at having failed in obtaining
either Margaret or Renée for him, when the king interrupted him:
"Console yourself, I shall marry Anne Boleyn." The cardinal remained
speechless for a moment. What would become of him, if the king placed
the crown of England on the head of the daughter and niece of his
greatest enemies? What would become of the church, if a second Anne of
Bohemia should ascend the throne? Wolsey threw himself at the feet of
his master, and entreated him to renounce so fatal a project.[697] It
was then no doubt that he remained (as he afterwards said) _an hour or
two_ on his knees before the king in his privy chamber,[698] but
without prevailing on Henry to give up his design. Wolsey, persuaded
that if he continued openly to oppose Henry's will, he would for ever
lose his confidence, dissembled his vexation, waiting an opportunity
to get rid of this unfortunate rival by some intrigue. He began by
writing to the pope, informing him that a young lady, brought up by
the queen of Navarre, and consequently tainted by the Lutheran heresy,
had captivated the king's heart;[699] and from that hour Anne Boleyn
became the object of the hatred and calumnies of Rome. But at the same
time, to conceal his intentions, Wolsey received Henry at a series of
splendid entertainments, at which Anne outshone all the ladies of the
court.

  [697] Whose persuasion to the contrary, made to the king upon his
  knees. Cavendish, p. 204.

  [698] Ibid. p. 388.

  [699] Meteren, Hist. of the Low Countries, folio, 20.




CHAPTER VII.

     Bilney's Preaching--His arrest--Arthur's Preaching and
     Imprisonment--Bilney's Examination--Contest between the
     Judge and the Prisoner--Bilney's weakness and Fall--His
     Terrors--Two Wants--Arrival of the Fourth Edition of the New
     Testament--Joy among the Believers.


[Sidenote: BILNEY'S PREACHING.]

While these passions were agitating Henry's palace, the most moving
scenes, produced by Christian faith, were stirring the nation. Bilney,
animated by that courage which God sometimes gives to the weakest men,
seemed to have lost his natural timidity, and preached for a time with
an energy quite apostolic. He taught that all men should first
acknowledge their sins and condemn them, and then hunger and thirst
after that righteousness which Jesus Christ gives.[700] To this
testimony borne to the truth, he added his testimony against error.
"These five hundred years," he added, "there hath been no good pope;
and in all the times past we can find but fifty: for they have neither
preached nor lived well, nor conformably to their dignity; wherefore,
unto this day, they have borne the keys of simony."[701]

  [700] Ut omnes primum peccata sua agnoscant et damnent, deinde
  esuriant et sitiant justitiam illam. Foxe, iv. p. 634.

  [701] Ibid. p. 627.

[Sidenote: BILNEY ARRESTED.]

As soon as he descended from the pulpit, this pious scholar, with his
friend Arthur, visited the neighbouring towns and villages. "The Jews
and Saracens would long ago have become believers," he once said at
Wilsdown, "had it not been for the idolatry of Christian men in
offering candles, wax, and money to stocks and stones." One day when
he visited Ipswich, where there was a Franciscan convent, he
exclaimed: "The cowl of St. Francis wrapped round a dead body hath no
power to take away sins.... _Ecce agnus Dei qui tollit peccata
mundi._" (John i, 29.) The poor monks, who were little versed in
Scripture, had recourse to the _Almanac_ to convict the _Bible_ of
error. "St. Paul did rightly affirm," said Friar John Brusierd, "that
there is but one mediator of God and man, because as yet there was no
_saint_ canonized or put into the calendar."--"Let us ask of the
Father in the name of the Son," rejoined Bilney, "and he will give
unto us."--"You are always speaking of the Father and never of the
_saints_," replied the friar; "you are like a man who has been looking
so long upon the sun that he can see nothing else."[702] As he uttered
these words the monk seemed bursting with anger. "If I did not know
that the saints would take everlasting vengeance upon you, I would
surely with these nails of mine be your death."[703] Twice in fact did
two monks pull him out of his pulpit. He was arrested and taken to
London.

  [702] Foxe, iv. p. 629.

  [703] Ibid. p. 630.

Arthur, instead of fleeing, began to visit the flocks which his friend
had converted. "Good people," said he, "if I should suffer persecution
for the preaching of the Gospel, there are seven thousand more that
would preach it as I do now. Therefore, good people! good people!"
(and he repeated these words several times in a sorrowful voice)
"think not that if these tyrants and persecutors put a man to death,
the preaching of the Gospel therefore is to be forsaken. Every
Christian man, yea every layman, is a priest. Let our adversaries
preach by the authority of the cardinal; others by the authority of
the university; others by the pope's; we will preach by the authority
of God. It is not the man who brings the word that saves the soul, but
the word which the man brings. Neither bishops nor popes have the
right to forbid any man to preach the Gospel;[704] and if they kill
him he is not a heretic but a martyr."[705] The priests were horrified
at such doctrines. In their opinion, there was no God out of their
church, no salvation out of their sacrifices. Arthur was thrown into
the same prison as Bilney.

  [704] Ibid. p. 623.

  [705] Collyer's Church History, vol. ii, p. 26.

[Sidenote: BILNEY AND ARTHUR BEFORE THE BISHOP.]

On the 27th of November 1527 the cardinal and the archbishop
Canterbury, with a great number of bishops, divines, and lawyers, met
in the chapter-house of Westminster, when Bilney and Arthur were
brought before them. But the king's prime minister thought it beneath
his dignity to occupy his time with miserable heretics. Wolsey had
hardly commenced the examination, when he rose, saying: "The affairs
of the realm call me away; all such as are found guilty, you will
compel them to abjure, and those who rebel you will deliver over to
the secular power." After a few questions proposed by the bishop of
London, the two accused men were led back to prison.

[Sidenote: BILNEY'S STRUGGLE.]

Abjuration or death--that was Wolsey's order. But the conduct of the
trial was confided to Tonstall; Bilney conceived some hope.[706] "Is
it possible," he said to himself, "that the bishop of London, the
friend of Erasmus, will gratify the monks?... I must tell him that it
was the Greek Testament of his learned master that led me to the
faith." Upon which the humble evangelist having obtained paper and
ink, set about writing to the bishop from his gloomy prison those
admirable letters which have been transmitted to posterity. Tonstall,
who was not a cruel man, was deeply moved, and then a strange struggle
took place: a judge wishing to save the prisoner, the prisoner
desiring to give up his life. Tonstall, by acquitting Bilney, had no
desire to compromise himself. "Submit to the church," said the bishop,
"for God speaks only through it." But Bilney, who knew that God speaks
in the Scriptures, remained inflexible. "Very well, then," said
Tonstall, taking up the prisoner's eloquent letters, "in discharge of
my conscience I shall lay these letters before the court." He hoped,
perhaps, that they would touch his colleagues, but he was deceived. He
determined, therefore, to make a fresh attempt. On the 4th of
December, Bilney was brought again before the court. "Abjure your
errors," said Tonstall. Bilney refusing by a shake of the head, the
bishop continued: "Retire into the next room and consider." Bilney
withdrew, and returning shortly after with joy beaming in his eyes,
Tonstall thought he had gained the victory. "You will return to the
church, then?" said he.... The doctor answered calmly: "_Fiat judicium
in nomine Domini_."[707] "Be quick," continued the bishop, "this is
the last moment, and you will be condemned." "_Hæc est dies quam fecit
Dominus_," answered Bilney, "_exultemus et lætemur in ea_!" (Psalm
cxviii, 24). Upon this Tonstall took off his cap, and said: "_In
nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.... Exsurgat Deus et
dissipentur inimici ejus!_" (Ps. lxviii, 1). Then making the sign of
the cross on his forehead and on his breast, he gave judgment: "Thomas
Bilney, I pronounce thee convicted of heresy." He was about to name
the penalty ... a last hope restrained him; he stopped: "For the rest
of the sentence we take deliberation until to-morrow." Thus was the
struggle prolonged between two men, one of whom desired to walk to the
stake, the other to bar the way as it were with his own body.

  [706] In talem nunc me judicem incidisse gratulor. (Foxe, iv, p. 633.)
  Now I congratulate myself that I have fallen into the hands of such a
  judge.

  [707] Let judgment be done in the name of the Lord.

"Will you return to the unity of the church?" asked Tonstall the next
day. "I hope I was never separated from the church," answered Bilney.
"Go and consult with some of your friends," said the bishop, who was
resolved to save his life; "I will give you till one o'clock in the
afternoon." In the afternoon Bilney made the same answer. "I will give
you two nights' respite to deliberate," said the bishop; "on Saturday
at nine o'clock in the forenoon, the court will expect a plain
definitive answer." Tonstall reckoned on the night with its dreams,
its anguish, and its terrors, to bring about Bilney's recantation.

[Sidenote: BILNEY'S FALL.]

This extraordinary struggle occupied many minds both in court and
city. Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII watched with interest the various
phases of this tragic history. What will happen? was the general
question. Will he give way? Shall we see him live or die? One day and
two nights still remained; everything was tried to shake the Cambridge
doctor. His friends crowded to his prison; he was overwhelmed with
arguments and examples; but an inward struggle, far more terrible than
those without, agitated the pious Bilney. "Whoever will save his soul
shall lose it," Christ had said. That selfish love of his soul, which
is found even in the advanced Christian,--that self, which after his
conversion had been not absorbed, but overruled by the Spirit of God,
gradually recovered strength in his heart, in the presence of disgrace
and death. His friends who wished to save him, not understanding that
the fallen Bilney would be Bilney no longer, conjured him with tears
to have pity on himself; and by these means his firmness was overcome.
The bishop pressed him, and Bilney asked himself: "Can a young soldier
like me know the rules of war better than an old soldier like
Tonstall? Or can a poor silly sheep know his way to the fold better
than the chief pastor of London?"[708] His friends quitted him
neither night nor day, and entangled by their fatal affection, he
believed at last that he had found a compromise which would set his
conscience at rest. "I will preserve my life," he said, "to dedicate
it to the Lord." This delusion had scarcely laid hold of his mind
before his views were confused, his faith was vailed, the Holy Ghost
departed from him, God gave him over to his carnal thoughts, and under
the pretext of being useful to Jesus Christ for many years, Bilney
disobeyed him at the present moment. Being led before the bishops on
the morning of Saturday the 7th of December, at nine o'clock, he fell
... (Arthur had fallen before him), and whilst the false friends who
had misled him hardly dared raise their eyes, the living church of
Christ in England uttered a cry of anguish. "If ever you come in
danger," said Latimer, "for God's quarrel, I would advise you, above
all things, to abjure all your friendships; leave not one unabjured.
It is they that shall undo you, and not your enemies. It was his very
friends that brought Bilney to it."[709]

  [708] Foxe, iv. p. 638.

  [709] Latimer's Sermons (Parker Society), p. 222.

On the following day (Sunday, 8th December) Bilney was placed at the
head of a procession, and the fallen disciple, bareheaded, with a
fagot on his shoulders, stood in front of St. Paul's cross, while a
priest from the pulpit exhorted him to repentance; after which he was
led back to prison.

What a solitude for the wretched man! At one time the cold darkness of
his cell appeared to him as a burning fire; at another he fancied he
heard accusing voices crying to him in the silence of the night.
Death, the very enemy he had wished to avoid, fixed his icy glance
upon him and filled him with fear. He strove to escape from the
horrible spectre, but in vain. Then the friends who had dragged him
into this abyss, crowded round and endeavoured to console him; but if
they gave utterance to any of Christ's gentle promises, Bilney started
back with affright and shrank to the farthest part of the dungeon,
with a cry "as though a man had run him through the heart with a
sword."[710] Having denied the word of God, he could no longer endure
to hear it. The curse of the Apocalypse: _Ye mountains, hide me from
the wrath of the Lamb!_ was the only passage of Scripture in harmony
with his soul. His mind wandered, the blood froze in his veins, he
sank under his terrors; he lost all sense, and almost his life, and
lay motionless in the arms of his astonished friends. "God," exclaimed
those unhappy individuals who had caused his fall, "God, by a just
judgment, delivers up to the tempests of their conscience all who
deny his truth."

  [710] Ibid.

[Sidenote: BAYFIELD ARRESTED.]

This was not the only sorrow of the church. As soon as Richard
Bayfield, the late chamberlain of Bury, had joined Tyndale and Fryth,
he said to them: "I am at your disposal; you shall be my head and I
will be your hand; I will sell your books and those of the German
reformers in the Low Countries, France, and England." It was not long
indeed before he returned to London. But Pierson, the priest whom he
had formerly met in Lombard Street, found him again, and accused him
to the bishop. The unhappy man was brought before Tonstall. "You are
charged," said the prelate, "with having asserted that praise is due
to God alone, and not to saints or creatures."[711] Bayfield
acknowledged the charge to be true. "You are accused of maintaining
that every priest may preach the word of God by the authority of the
Gospel without the license of the pope or cardinals." This also
Bayfield acknowledged. A penance was imposed on him; and then he was
sent back to his monastery with orders to show himself there on the
25th of April. But he crossed the sea once more, and hastened to join
Tyndale.

  [711] That all laud and praise should be given to God alone. Foxe, iv,
  p. 682.

[Sidenote: FOURTH EDITION OF THE NEW TESTAMENT.]

The New Testaments, however, sold by him and others, remained in
England. At that time the bishops subscribed to suppress the
Scriptures, as so many persons have since done to circulate them; and,
accordingly, a great number of the copies brought over by Bayfield and
his friends were brought up.[712] A scarcity of food was erelong added
to the scarcity of the word of God; for as the cardinal was
endeavouring to foment a war between Henry and the emperor, the
Flemish ships ceased to enter the English ports. It was in consequence
of this that the lord mayor and aldermen of London hastened to express
their apprehensions to Wolsey almost before he had recovered from the
fatigues of his return from France. "Fear nothing," he told them; "the
king of France assured me, that if he had three bushels of wheat,
England should have two of them." But none arrived, and the people
were on the point of breaking out into violence, when a fleet of ships
suddenly appeared off the mouth of the Thames. They were German and
Flemish vessels laden with corn, in which the worthy people of the Low
Countries had also concealed the New Testament. An Antwerp bookseller,
named John Raimond or Ruremond, from his birthplace, had printed a
fourth edition more beautiful than the previous ones. It was enriched
with references and engravings on wood, and each page bordered with
red lines. Raimond himself had embarked on board one of the ships with
five hundred copies of his New Testament.[713] About Christmas 1527,
the book of God was circulated in England along with the bread that
nourishes the body. But certain priests and monks having discovered
the Scriptures among the sacks of corn, they carried several copies to
the bishop of London, who threw Raimond into prison. The greater part,
however, of the new edition escaped him. The New Testament was read
everywhere, and even the court did not escape the contagion. Anne
Boleyn, notwithstanding her smiling face, often withdrew to her closet
at Greenwich or at Hampton Court, to study the Gospel. Frank,
courageous, and proud, she did not conceal the pleasure she found in
such reading; her boldness astonished the courtiers, and exasperated
the clergy. In the city things went still farther: the New Testament
was explained in frequent conventicles, particularly in the house of
one Russell, and great was the joy among the faithful. "It is
sufficient only to enter London," said the priests, "to become a
heretic!" The Reformation was taking root among the people before it
arrived at the upper classes.

  [712] Anderson, Annals of the Bible, i. p. 158.

  [713] Foxe, v, p. 27.




CHAPTER VIII.

     The Papacy intercepts the Gospel--The King consults Sir
     Thomas More--Ecclesiastical Conferences about the
     Divorce--The Universities--Clark--The Nun of Kent--Wolsey
     decides to do the king's Will--Mission to the Pope--Four
     Documents--Embarrassment of Charles V--Francis Philip at
     Madrid--Distress and Resolution of Charles--He turns away
     from the Reformation--Conference at the Castle of St.
     Angelo--Knight arrives in Italy--His Flight--Treaty between
     the Pope and the Emperor--Escape of the Pope--Confusion of
     Henry VIII--Wolsey's Orders--His Entreaties.


[Sidenote: POPERY INTERCEPTS THE GOSPEL.]

The sun of the word of God, which daily grew brighter in the sky of
the sixteenth century, was sufficient to scatter all the darkness in
England; but popery, like an immense wall, intercepted its rays.
Britain had hardly received the Scriptures in Greek and Latin, and
then in English, before the priests began to make war upon them with
indefatigable zeal. It was necessary that the wall should be thrown
down in order that the sun might penetrate freely among the
Anglo-Saxon people. And new events were ripening in England, destined
to make a great breach in popery. The negotiations of Henry VIII with
Clement VII play an important part in the Reformation. By showing up
the Court of Rome, they destroyed the respect which the people felt
for it; they took away that _power and strength_ as Scripture says,
which the monarchy had given it; and the throne of the pope once
fallen in England, Jesus Christ uplifted and strengthened his own.

Henry, ardently desiring an heir, and thinking that he had found the
woman that would ensure his own and England's happiness, conceived the
design of severing the ties that united him to the queen, and with
this view he consulted his most favourite councillors about the
divorce. There was one in particular whose approval he coveted: this
was Sir Thomas More. One day as Erasmus's friend was walking with his
master in the beautiful gallery at Hampton Court, giving him an
account of a mission he had just executed on the continent, the king
suddenly interrupted him: "My marriage to the queen," he said, "is
contrary to the laws of God, of the church, and of nature." He then
took up the Bible, and pointed out the passages in his favour.[714] "I
am not a theologian," said More, somewhat embarrassed; "your majesty
should consult a council of doctors."

  [714] Laid the Bible open before me, and showed me the words. More to
  Cromwell, Strype, i, 2nd part, p. 197.

Accordingly, by Henry's order, Warham assembled the most learned
canonists at Hampton Court; but weeks passed away before they could
agree.[715] Most of them quoted in the king's favour those passages in
Leviticus (xviii, 16; xx, 21,) which forbid a man to take _his
brother's wife_.[716] But Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and the other
opponents of the divorce, replied that, according to Deuteronomy (xxv,
5,) when a woman is left a widow without children, her brother-in-law
ought to take her to wife, to perpetuate his brother's name in Israel.
"This law concerned the Jews only," replied the partisans of the
divorce; they added that its object was "to maintain the inheritances
distinct, and the genealogies intact, until the coming of Christ. The
Judaical dispensation has passed away; but the law of Leviticus,
which is a moral law, is binding upon all men in all ages."

  [715] Consulting from day to day, and time to time. Cavendish, p. 209.

  [716] Ex his doctoribus asseritur quod Papa non potest dispensare in
  primo gradu affinitatis. (Burnet's Reform, ii, Records, p. 8. Lond.
  1841.) By these doctors it is asserted that the Pope is not able to
  grant a dispensation in the first degree of affinity.

To free themselves from their embarrassment, the bishops demanded that
the most eminent universities should be consulted; and commissioners
were forthwith despatched to Oxford, Cambridge, Paris, Orleans,
Toulouse, Louvain, Padua, and Bologna, furnished with money to reward
the foreign doctors for the time and trouble this question would cost
them. This caused some little delay, and every means was now to be
tried to divert the king from his purpose.

[Sidenote: CLARKE'S OBJECTION.]

Wolsey, who was the first to suggest the idea of a divorce, was now
thoroughly alarmed. It appeared to him that a nod from the daughter of
the Boleyns would hurl him from the post he had so laboriously won,
and this made him vent his ill-humour on all about him, at one time
threatening Warham, and at another persecuting Pace. But fearing to
oppose Henry openly, he summoned from Paris, Clarke, bishop of Bath
and Wells, at that time ambassador to the French court. The latter
entered into his views, and after cautiously preparing the way, he
ventured to say to the king: "The progress of the inquiry will be so
slow, your majesty, that it will take more than seven years to bring
it to an end!"--"Since my patience has already held out for _eighteen_
years," the king replied coldly, "I am willing to wait _four_ or
_five_ more."[717]

  [717] Since his patience had already held out for eighteen years.
  Collyer, ii. p. 24.

[Sidenote: FOUR DOCUMENTS REQUIRED OF THE POPE.]

As the political party had failed, the clerical party set in motion a
scheme of another kind. A young woman, Elizabeth Barton, known as _the
holy maid of Kent_, had been subject from childhood to epileptic fits.
The priest of her parish, named Masters, had persuaded her that she
was inspired of God, and confederating with one Bocking, a monk of
Canterbury, he turned the weakness of the prophetess to account.
Elizabeth wandered over the country, passing from house to house, and
from convent to convent; on a sudden her limbs would become rigid, her
features distorted; violent convulsions shook her body, and strange
unintelligible sounds fell from her lips, which the amazed by-standers
received as revelations from the Virgin and the saints. Fisher, bishop
of Rochester, Abel, the queen's ecclesiastical agent, and even Sir
Thomas More, were among the number of Elizabeth's partisans. Rumours
of the divorce having reached the _saint's_ ears, an angel commanded
her to appear before the cardinal. As soon as she stood in his
presence, the colour fled from her cheeks, her limbs trembled, and
falling into an ecstasy, she exclaimed: "Cardinal of York, God has
placed three swords in your hand: the spiritual sword, to range the
church under the authority of the pope; the civil sword, to govern the
realm; and the sword of justice, to prevent the divorce of the
king.... If you do not wield these three swords faithfully, God will
lay it sore to your charge."[718] After these words the prophetess
withdrew.

  [718] Strype, vol. i. part i. p. 279.

But other influences were then dividing Wolsey's breast: hatred, which
induced him to oppose the divorce; and ambition, which foreboded his
ruin in this opposition. At last ambition prevailed, and he resolved
to make his objections forgotten by the energy of his zeal.

[Sidenote: THE POPE CANNOT ERR.]

Henry hastened to profit by this change. "Declare the divorce
yourself," said he to Wolsey, "has not the pope named you his
vicar-general."[719] The cardinal was not anxious to raise himself so
high. "If I were to decide the affair," said he, "the queen would
appeal to the pope; we must therefore either apply to the holy father
for special powers, or persuade the queen to retire to a nunnery. And
if we fail in either of these expedients, we will obey the voice of
conscience, even in despite of the pope."[720] It was arranged to
begin with the more regular attempt, and Gregory Da Casale, secretary
Knight, and the prothonotary Gambara, were appointed to an
extraordinary mission at the pontifical court. Casale was Wolsey's
man, and Knight was Henry's. Wolsey told the envoys: "You will demand
of the pope, _1stly_, a _commission_ authorizing me to inquire into
this matter; _2ndly_, his promise to pronounce the nullity of
Catherine's marriage with Henry, if we should find that her marriage
with Arthur was consummated; and _3rdly_, a _dispensation_ permitting
the king to marry again." In this manner Wolsey hoped to make sure of
the divorce without damaging the papal authority. It was insinuated
that false representations, with regard to the consummation of the
first marriage, had been sent from England to Julius II, which had
induced the pontiff to permit the second. The pope being deceived as
to the _fact_, his infallibility was untouched. Wolsey desired
something more; knowing that no confidence could be put in the good
faith of the pontiff, he demanded a fourth instrument by which the
pope should bind himself _never to recall_ _the other three_; he only
forgot to take precautions in case Clement should withdraw _the
fourth_. "With these four snares, skilfully combined," said the
cardinal, "I shall catch the hare; if he escapes from one, he will
fall into the other." The courtiers anticipated a speedy termination
of the affair. Was not the emperor the declared enemy of the pontiff?
Had not Henry, on the contrary, made himself _protector of the
Clementine league_? Could Clement hesitate, when called upon, to
choose between his jailor and his benefactor?

  [719] When Napoleon, from similar motives, desired to separate from
  Josephine, fearing the unwillingness of the pope (as Henry did), he
  entertained, like him, the design of doing without the pontiff, and of
  getting his marriage annulled by the French bishops. As he was more
  powerful, he succeeded.

  [720] Quid possit clam fieri quoad forum conscientiæ. Collyer, ii. p.
  24.

Indeed, Charles V, at this moment, was in a very embarrassing
position. It is true, his guards were posted at the gates of the
castle of St. Angelo, where Clement was a prisoner, and people in Rome
said to one another with a smile: "Now indeed it is true, _Papa non
potest errare_."[721] But it was not possible to keep the pope a
prisoner in Rome; and then what was to be done with him? The viceroy
of Naples proposed to Alercon, the governor of St. Angelo, to remove
Clement to Gæta; but the affrighted colonel exclaimed: "Heaven forbid
that I should drag after me the very body of God!" Charles thought one
time of transporting the pontiff to Spain; but might not an enemy's
fleet carry him off on the road? The pope in prison was far more
embarrassing to Charles than the pope at liberty.

  [721] The pope cannot err,--a play upon the double meaning of the word
  _errare_.

[Sidenote: A CONFERENCE AT ST. ANGELO.]

It was at this critical time that Francis Philip, Queen Catherine's
servant, having escaped the snares laid by Henry VIII and Wolsey,
arrived at Madrid, where he passed a whole day in conference with
Charles V. This prince was at first astonished, shocked even, by the
designs of the king of England. The curse of God seemed to hang over
his house. His mother was a lunatic; his sister of Denmark expelled
from her dominions; his sister of Hungary made a widow by the battle
of Mohacz; the Turks were encroaching upon his territories; Lautrec
was victorious in Italy, and the catholics, irritated by the pope's
captivity, detested his ambition. This was not enough. Henry VIII was
striving to divorce his aunt, and the pope would naturally give his
aid to this criminal design. Charles must choose between the pontiff
and the king. The friendship of the king of England might aid him in
breaking the league formed to expel him from Italy, and by sacrificing
Catherine he would be sure to obtain his support; but placed between
reasons of state and his aunt's honour, the emperor did not hesitate;
he even renounced certain projects of reform that he had at heart. He
suddenly decided for the pope, and from that very hour followed a new
course.

Charles, who possessed great discernment, had understood his age; he
had seen that concessions were called for by the movement of the human
mind, and would have desired to carry out the change from the middle
ages to modern times by a carefully managed transition. He had
consequently demanded a council to reform the church and weaken the
Romish dominion in Europe. But very different was the result. If
Charles turned away from Henry, he was obliged to turn towards
Clement; and after having compelled the head of the church to enter a
prison, it was necessary to place him once more upon the throne.
Charles V sacrificed the interests of Christian society to the
interests of his own family. This divorce, which in England has been
looked upon as the ruin of the popedom, was what saved it in
continental Europe.

[Sidenote: KNIGHT HURRIES FROM ROME.]

But how could the emperor win the heart of the pontiff, filled as it
was with bitterness and anger? He selected for this difficult mission
a friar of great ability, De Angelis, general of the Spanish
Observance, and ordered him to proceed to the castle of St. Angelo
under the pretext of negotiating the liberation of the holy father.
The cordelier was conducted to the strongest part of the fortress,
called the Rock, where Clement was lodged; and the two priests brought
all their craft to bear on each other. The monk, assisted by the
artful Moncade, adroitly mingled together the pope's deliverance and
Catherine's marriage. He affirmed that the emperor wished to open the
gates of the pontiff's prison, and had already given the order;[722]
and then he added immediately: "The emperor is determined to maintain
the rights of his aunt, and will never consent to the divorce."[723]--
"If you are a _good shepherd_ to me," wrote Charles to the pope with
his own hand on the 22nd of November, "I will be a _good sheep_ to
you." Clement smiled as he read these words; he understood his
position; the emperor had need of the priest, Charles was at his
captive's feet; Clement was saved! The divorce was a rope fallen from
the skies which could not fail to drag him out of the pits; he had
only to cling to it quietly in order to reascend his throne.
Accordingly from that hour Clement appeared less eager to quit the
castle than Charles to liberate him. "So long as the divorce is in
suspense," thought the crafty De' Medici, "I have two great friends;
but as soon as I declare for one, I shall have a mortal enemy in the
other." He promised the monk to come to no decision in the matter
without informing the emperor.

  [722] La Cæsarea Majesta si come grandamente desidera la liberatione
  de nostro signor, cosi efficacemente la manda. Capituli, etc. Le
  Grand, iii. p. 48.

  [723] That in anywise he should not consent to the same. State Papers,
  vol. vii. p. 29.

Meantime Knight, the envoy of the impatient monarch, having heard, as
he crossed the Alps, that the pope was at liberty, hastened on to
Parma, where he met Gambara: "He is not free yet," replied the
prothonotary; "but the general of the Franciscans hopes to terminate
his captivity in a few days.[724] Continue your journey," he added.
Knight could not do so without great danger. He was told at Foligno,
sixty miles from the metropolis, that if he had not a safe-conduct he
could not reach Rome without exposing his life; Knight halted. Just
then a messenger from Henry brought him despatches more pressing than
ever; Knight started again with one servant and a guide. At Monte
Rotondo he was nearly murdered by the inhabitants; but on the next day
(25th November), protected by a violent storm of wind and rain,[725]
Henry's envoy entered Rome at ten o'clock without being observed, and
kept himself concealed.

  [724] Quod sperabat intra paucos dies auferre suæ Sanctitati squalorem
  et tenebras. (State Papers, vol. vii. p. 13.) Because he hoped that
  within a few days the miserable captivity of his Holiness would be
  terminated.

  [725] Veari trobelous with wynde and rayne, and therefore more mete
  for our voyage. Ibid. p. 16.

It was impossible to speak with Clement, for the emperor's orders were
positive. Knight, therefore, began to _practise_ upon the cardinals;
he gained over the Cardinal of Pisa, by whose means his despatches
were laid before the pontiff. Clement after reading them laid them
down with a smile of satisfaction.[726] "Good!" said he, "here is _the
other_ coming to me now!" But night had hardly closed in before the
Cardinal of Pisa's secretary hastened to Knight and told him: "Don
Alercon is informed of your arrival; and the pope entreats you to
depart immediately." This officer had scarcely left him, when the
prothonotary Gambara arrived in great agitation: "His holiness presses
you to leave; as soon as he is at liberty, he will attend to your
master's request." Two hours after this, two hundred Spanish soldiers
arrived, surrounded the house in which Knight had concealed himself,
and searched it from top to bottom, but to no purpose; the English
agent had escaped.[727]

  [726] Reponed the same saufly, as Gambara showed unto me. Ibid. p. 17.

  [727] I was not passed out of Rome, by the space of two hours, ere two
  hundred Spaniards invaded and searched the house. Burnet, Records, ii.
  p. 12.

[Sidenote: THE KING'S REMORSE.]

Knight's safety was not the true motive which induced Clement to urge
his departure. The very day on which the pope received the message
from the king of England, he signed a treaty with Charles V,
restoring him, under certain conditions, to both his powers. At the
same time the pontiff, for greater security, pressed the French
general Lautrec to hasten his march to Rome in order to save him from
the hands of the emperor. Clement, a disciple of Machiavelli, thus
gave the right hand to Charles and the left to Francis; and as he had
not another for Henry, he made him the most positive promises. Each of
the three princes could reckon on the pope's friendship, and on the
same grounds.

The 10th of December (1527) was the day on which Clement's
imprisonment would terminate; but he preferred owing his freedom to
intrigue rather than to the emperor's generosity. He therefore
procured the dress of a tradesman, and, on the evening before the day
fixed for his deliverance, his ward being already much relaxed, he
escaped from the castle, and, accompanied only by Louis of Gonzago in
his flight, he made his way to Orvieto.

While Clement was experiencing all the joy of a man just escaped from
prison, Henry was a prey to the most violent agitation. Having ceased
to love Catherine, he persuaded himself that he was the victim of his
father's ambition, a martyr to duty, and the champion of conjugal
sanctity. His very gait betrayed his vexation, and even among the gay
conversation of the court, deep sighs would escape from his bosom. He
had frequent interviews with Wolsey. "I regard the safety of my soul
above all things,"[728] he said; "but I am concerned also for the
peace of my kingdom. For a long while an unceasing remorse has been
gnawing at my conscience,[729] and my thoughts dwell upon my marriage
with unutterable sorrow.[730] God, in his wrath, has taken away my
sons, and if I persevere in this unlawful union, he will visit me with
still more terrible chastisements.[731] My only hope is in the holy
father." Wolsey replied with a low bow: "Please your majesty, I am
occupied with this business, as if it were my only means of winning
heaven."

  [728] Deumque primo et ante omnia ac animæ suæ quietem et salutem
  respiciens. Barnet's Reformation, II. Records p. vii.

  [729] Longo jam tempore intimo suæ conscientiæ remorsu. Ibid.

  [730] Ingenti cum molestia cordisque perturbatione. Ibid.

  [731] Graviusque a Deo supplicium expavescit. Ibid. p. viii.

And indeed he redoubled his exertions. He wrote to Sir Gregory Da
Casale on the 5th of December (1527): "You will procure an audience of
the pope at any price. Disguise yourself, appear before him as the
servant of some nobleman,[732] or as a messenger from the duke of
Ferrara. Scatter money plentifully; sacrifice every thing, provided
you procure a secret interview with his holiness; ten thousand ducats
are at your disposal. You will explain to Clement the king's scruples,
and the necessity of providing for the continuance of his house and
the peace of his kingdom. You will tell him that in order to restore
him to liberty, the king is ready to declare war against the emperor,
and thus show himself to all the world to be a true son of the
church."

  [732] Mutato habitu et tanquam alicujus minister. (Ibid.) The dress
  being changed, and as if somebody's servant.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S ALTERNATIVE.]

Wolsey saw clearly that it was essential to represent the divorce to
Clement VII, as a means likely to secure the safety of the popedom.
The cardinal, therefore, wrote again to Da Casale on the 6th of
December: "Night and day, I revolve in my mind the actual condition of
the church,[733] and seek the means best calculated to extricate the
pope from the gulf into which he has fallen. While I was turning these
thoughts over in my mind during a sleepless night ... one way suddenly
occurred to me. I said to myself, the king must be prevailed upon to
undertake the defence of the holy father. This was no easy matter, for
his majesty is strongly attached to the emperor;[734] however, I set
about my task. I told the king that his holiness was ready to satisfy
him; I staked my honour; I succeeded.... To save the pope, my master
will sacrifice his treasures, subjects, kingdom, and even his
life.[735]... I therefore conjure his holiness to entertain our just
demand."

  [733] Diuque ac noctu mente volvens quo facto. (State Papers, vol.
  vii. p. 18.) Day and night revolving in my mind the state of matters.

  [734] Adeo tenaciter Cæsari adhærebat. (Ibid.) He still adhered
  closely to Cæsar.

  [735] Usque ad mortem. (Ibid. p. 19.) Even to death.

Never before had such pressing entreaties been made to a pope.




CHAPTER IX.

     The English Envoys at Orvieto--Their Oration to the
     Pope--Clement gains Time--The Envoys and Cardinal Sanctorum
     Quatuor--Stratagem of the Pope--Knight discovers it and
     returns--The Transformations of Antichrist--The English
     obtain a new Document--Fresh Stratagem--Demand of a second
     Cardinal-legate--The Pope's new Expedient--End of the
     Campaign.


[Sidenote: THE ENGLISH ENVOYS AT ORVIETO.]

The envoys of the king of England appeared in the character of the
saviours of Rome. This was doubtless no stratagem; and Wolsey
probably regarded that thought as coming from heaven, which had
visited him during the weary sleepless night. The zeal of his agents
increased. The pope was hardly set at liberty, before Knight and Da
Casale appeared at the foot of the precipitous rock on which Orvieto
is built, and demanded to be introduced to Clement VII. Nothing could
be more compromising to the pontiff than such a visit. How could he
appear on good terms with England, when Rome and all his states were
still in the hands of Catherine's nephew? The pope's mind was utterly
bewildered by the demand of the two envoys. He recovered however; to
reject the powerful hand extended to him by England, was not without
its danger; and as he well knew how to bring a difficult negotiation
to a successful conclusion, Clement regained confidence in his skill,
and gave orders to introduce Henry's ambassadors.

Their discourse was not without eloquence: "Never was the church in a
more critical position," said they. "The unmeasured ambition of the
kings who claim to dispose of spiritual affairs at their own pleasure
(this was aimed at Charles V) holds the apostolical bark suspended
over an abyss. The only port open to it in the tempest is the favour
of the august prince whom we represent, and who has always been the
shield of the faith. But, alas! this monarch, the impregnable bulwark
of your holiness, is himself the prey of tribulations almost equal to
your own. His conscience torn by remorse, his crown without an heir,
his kingdom without security, his people exposed once more to
perpetual disorders.... Nay, the whole Christian world given up to the
most cruel discord.[736]... Such are the consequences of a fatal union
which God has marked with his displeasure.... There are also," they
added in a lower tone, "certain things of which his majesty cannot
speak in his letter ... certain incurable disorders under which the
queen suffers, which will never permit the king to look upon her again
as his wife.[737] If your holiness puts an end to such wretchedness by
annulling his unlawful marriage, you will attach his majesty by an
indissoluble bond. Assistance, riches, armies, crown, and even
life--the king our master is ready to employ all in the service of
Rome. He stretches out his hand to you, most holy father ... stretch
out yours to him; by your union the church will be saved, and Europe
will be saved with it."

  [736] Discordiæ crudelissimæ per omnem christianum orbem. State
  Papers, vol. vii. p. 19.

  [737] Nonnulla sunt secreta S.D.N. secreto exponenda et non credenda
  scriptis .... ob morbos nonnullos quibus absque remedio regina
  laborat. Ibid.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT'S EMBARRASSMENT.]

Clement was cruelly embarrassed. His policy consisted in holding the
balance between the two princes, and he was now called upon to decide
in favour of one of them. He began to regret that he had ever received
Henry's ambassadors. "Consider my position," he said to them, "and
entreat the king to wait until more favourable events leave me at
liberty to act."--"What!" replied Knight proudly, "has not your
holiness promised to consider his majesty's prayer? If you fail in
your promise now, how can I persuade the king that you will keep it
some future day?"[738] Da Casale thought the time had come to strike a
decisive blow. "What evils," he exclaimed, "what inevitable
misfortunes your refusal will create!... The emperor thinks only of
depriving the church of its power, and the king of England alone has
sworn to maintain it." Then speaking lower, more slowly, and dwelling
upon every word, he continued: "We fear that his majesty, reduced to
such extremities ... of the two evils will choose the _least_,[739]
and supported by the purity of his intentions, will do _of his own
authority_ ... what he now so respectfully demands.... What should we
see then?... I shudder at the thought.... Let not your holiness
indulge in a false security which will inevitably drag you into the
abyss.... Read all ... remark all ... divine all ... take note of
all.[740]... Most holy father, this is a question of life and death."
And Da Casale's tone said more than his words.

  [738] Perform the promise once broken. Burnet's Ref. ii. Records, p.
  xiii.

  [739] Ex duobus malis minus malum eligat. State Papers, vii. p. 20.

  [740] Ut non gravetur, cuncta legere, et bene notare. Ibid. p. 18.

Clement understood that a positive refusal would expose him to lose
England. Placed between Henry and Charles, as between the hammer and
the forge, he resolved to gain time. "Well then," he said to Knight
and Da Casale, "I will do what you ask; but I am not familiar with the
_forms_ these dispensations require.... I will consult the Cardinal
_Sanctorum Quatuor_ on the subject ... and then will inform you."

[Sidenote: THE DISPENSATION GRANTED.]

Knight and Da Casale, wishing to anticipate Clement VII, hastened to
Lorenzo Pucci, cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor, and intimated to him that
their master would know how to be grateful. The cardinal assured the
deputies of his affection for Henry VIII, and they, in the fulness of
their gratitude, laid before him the four documents which they were
anxious to get executed. But the cardinal had hardly looked at the
first--the proposal that Wolsey should decide the matter of the
divorce in England--when he exclaimed: "Impossible! ... a bull in such
terms would cover with eternal disgrace not only his holiness and the
king, but even the cardinal of York himself." The deputies were
confounded, for Wolsey had ordered them to ask the pope for nothing
but his signature.[741] Recovering themselves, they rejoined: "All
that we require is a _competent_ commission." On his part, the pope
wrote Henry a letter, in which he managed to say nothing.[742]

  [741] Alia nulla re esset opus, præterquam ejus Sanctitatis signatura.
  (State Papers, vii, p. 29.) There was need of no other thing besides
  the signature of his holiness.

  [742] Charissime in Christo fili, etc., dated 7th December 1527. Ibid.
  p. 27.

Of the four required documents there were two on whose immediate
despatch Knight and Da Casale insisted: these were the _commission_ to
pronounce the divorce, and the _dispensation_ to contract a second
marriage. The _dispensation_ without the _commission_ was of no value;
this the pope knew well; accordingly he resolved to give the
_dispensation_ only. It was as if Charles had granted Clement when in
prison permission to visit his cardinals, but denied him liberty to
leave the castle of St. Angelo. It is in such a manner as this that a
religious system transformed into a political system has recourse,
when it is without power, to stratagem. "The _commission_," said the
artful Medici to Knight, "must be corrected according to the style of
our court; but here is the _dispensation_." Knight took the document;
it was addressed to Henry VIII and ran thus: "We accord to you, in
case your marriage with Catherine shall be declared null,[743] free
liberty to take another wife, provided she have not been the wife of
your brother...." The Englishman was duped by the Italian. "To my poor
judgment," he said, "this document will be of use to us." After this
Clement appeared to concern himself solely about Knight's health, and
suddenly manifested the greatest interest for him. "It is proper that
you should hasten your departure," said he, "for it is necessary that
you should travel _at your ease_. Gambara will follow you post, and
bring the commission." Knight thus mystified, took leave of the pope,
who got rid of Da Casale and Gambara in a similar manner. He then
began to breathe once more. There was no diplomacy in Europe which
Rome, even in its greatest weakness, could not easily dupe.

  [743] Matrimonium cum Catharina nullum fuisse et esse declarari.
  Herbert's Henry VIII, p. 280.

[Sidenote: KNIGHT DUPED BY THE POPE.]

It had now become necessary to elude the commission. While the king's
envoys were departing in good spirits, reckoning on the document that
was to follow them, the general of the Spanish Observance reiterated
to the pontiff in every tone: "Be careful to give no document
authorising the divorce, and above all, do not permit this affair to
be judged in Henry's states." The cardinals drew up the document under
the influence of De Angelis, and made it a masterpiece of
insignificance. If good theology ennobles the heart, bad theology, so
fertile in subtleties, imparts to the mind a skill by no means common;
and hence the most celebrated diplomatists have often been churchmen.
The act being thus drawn up, the pope despatched three copies, to
Knight, to Da Casale, and to Gambara. Knight was near Bologna when the
courier overtook him. He was stupefied, and taking post-horses
returned with all haste to Orvieto.[744] Gambara proceeded through
France to England with the useless _dispensation_ which the pope had
granted.

  [744] Burnet's Reformation, Records, ii. p. xiii.

[Sidenote: THE POPE GIVES THE COMMISSION.]

Knight had thought to meet with more good faith at the court of the
pope than with kings, and he had been outwitted. What would Wolsey and
Henry say of his folly? His wounded self-esteem began to make him
believe all that Tyndale and Luther said of the popedom. The former
had just published the _Obedience of a Christian Man_, and the
_Parable of the Wicked Mammon_, in which he represented Rome as one of
the transformations of Antichrist. "Antichrist," said he in the latter
treatise, "is not a man that should suddenly appear with wonders; he
is a spiritual thing, who was in the Old Testament, and also in the
time of Christ and the apostles, and is now, and shall (I doubt not)
endure till the world's end. His nature is (when he is overcome with
the Word of God) to go out of the play for a season, and to disguise
himself, and then to come in again with a new name and new raiment.
The Scribes and Pharisees in the gospel were very Antichrists; popes,
cardinals, and bishops have gotten their new names, but the thing is
all one. Even so now, when we have uttered [detected] him, _he will
change himself once more_, and turn himself into an angel of light.
Already _the beast_, seeing himself now to be sought for, roareth and
seeketh new holes to hide himself in, and changeth himself into a
thousand fashions."[745] This idea, paradoxical at first, gradually
made its way into men's minds. The Romans, by their practices,
familiarized the English to the somewhat coarse descriptions of the
reformers. England was to have many such lessons, and thus by degrees
learn to set Rome aside for the sake of her own glory and prosperity.

  [745] Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. p. 42, 43.

Knight and Da Casale reached Orvieto about the same time. Clement
replied with sighs: "Alas! I am the emperor's prisoner. The
imperialists are every day pillaging towns and castles in our
neighbourhood.[746]... Wretch that I am! I have not a friend except
the king your master, and he is far away.... If I should do anything
now to displease Charles, I am a lost man.... To sign the commission
would be to sign an eternal rupture with him." But Knight and Da
Casale pleaded so effectually with Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor, and so
pressed Clement, that the pontiff, without the knowledge of the
Spaniard De Angelis, gave them a more satisfactory document, but not
such as Wolsey required. "In giving you this commission," said the
pope, "I am giving away my liberty, and perhaps my life. I listen not
to the voice of prudence, but to that of affection only. I confide in
the generosity of the king of England, he is the master of my
destiny." He then began to weep,[747] and seemed ready to faint.
Knight, forgetting his vexation, promised Clement that the king would
do everything to save him.--"Ah!" said the pope, "there is one
effectual means."--"What is that?" inquired Henry's agents.--"M.
Lautrec, who says daily that he will come, but never does," replied
Clement, "has only to bring the French army promptly before the gates
of Orvieto; then I could excuse myself by saying that he constrained
me to sign the commission."[748]--"Nothing is easier," replied the
envoys, "we will go and hasten his arrival."

  [746] The imperialists do daily spoil castles and towns about Rome ...
  they have taken within three days two castles lying within six miles
  of this. Burnet's Ref. vol. ii. Records, p. xiii.

  [747] Cum suspiriis et lacrymis. (Ibid p. xii.) With sighs and tears.

  [748] And by this colour he would cover the matter. Ibid.

[Sidenote: HENRY DEMANDS ANOTHER LEGATE.]

Clement was not even now at ease. The safety of the Roman church
troubled him not less than his own ... Charles might discover the
trick and make the popedom suffer for it. There was danger on all
sides. If the English spoke of _independence_, did not the Emperor
threaten a _reform_?... The catholic princes, said the papal
councillors, are capable, without perhaps a single exception, of
supporting the cause of Luther to gratify a criminal ambition.[749]
The pope reflected, and withdrawing his word, promised to give the
commission when Lautrec was under the walls of Orvieto; but the
English agents insisted on having it immediately. To conciliate all,
it was agreed that the pope should give the required document at once,
but as soon as the French army arrived, he should send another copy
bearing the date of the day on which he saw Lautrec. "Beseech the king
to keep secret the commission I give you,"[750] said Clement VII to
Knight; "if he begins the process immediately he receives it, I am
undone forever."[751] The pope thus gave permission to act, on
condition of not acting at all. Knight took leave on the 1st of
January 1528; he promised all the pontiff desired, and then, as if
fearing some fresh difficulty, he departed the same day. Da Casale, on
his side, after having offered the Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor a gift
of 4000 crowns, which he refused, repaired to Lautrec, to beg him to
_constrain_ the pope to sign a document which was already on its way
to England.

  [749] Non potest Sua Sanctitas sibi persuadere ipsos principes (ut
  forte aliqui jactant) assumpturos sectam Lutheranam contra ecclesiam.
  (State Papers, vii. p. 47.) His Holiness is not able to persuade
  himself that these princes (as some perchance assert) are capable of
  supporting the Lutheran sect against the church.

  [750] State Papers, vii. p. 36.

  [751] Is fully in your puissance with publishing of the commission to
  destroy for ever. Ibid.

But while the business seemed to be clearing at Rome, it was becoming
more complicated in London. The king's project got wind, and Catherine
gave way to the liveliest sorrow. "I shall protest," said she,
"against the commission given to the cardinal of York. Is he not the
king's subject, the vile flatterer of his pleasures?" Catherine did
not resist alone; the people, who hated the cardinal, could not with
pleasure see him invested with such authority. To obviate this
inconvenience, Henry resolved to ask the pope for another cardinal,
who should be empowered to terminate the affair in London with or
without Wolsey.

The latter agreed to the measure: it is even possible that he was the
first to suggest it, for he feared to bear alone the responsibility of
so hateful an inquiry. Accordingly, on the 27th of December, he wrote
to the king's agents at Rome: "Procure the envoy of a legate, and
particularly of an able, easy, _manageable_ legate ... desirous of
meriting the king's favour,[752] Campeggio for instance. You will
earnestly request the cardinal who may be selected, to travel with all
diligence, and you will assure him that the king will behave liberally
towards him."[753]

  [752] Eruditus, indifferens, tractabilis, de regia majestate bene
  merendi cupidus. Ibid. p. 33.

  [753] Regia majestas sumptus, labores, atque molestias liberalissime
  compenset. (Ibid. p. 34.) His majesty will liberally compensate his
  outlay, toil, and labour.

[Sidenote: THE POPE'S NEW EXPEDIENT.]

Knight reached Asti on the 10th of January, where he found letters
with fresh orders. This was another check: at one time it is the pope
who compels him to retrograde, at another it is the king. Henry's
unlucky valetudinarian secretary, a man very susceptible of fatigue,
and already wearied and exhausted by ten painful journeys, was in a
very bad humour. He determined to permit Gambara to carry the two
documents to England; to commission Da Casale, who had not left the
pope's neighbourhood, to solicit the despatch of the legate; and as
regarded himself, to go and wait for further orders at Turin:--"If it
be thought good unto the king's highness that I do return unto
Orvieto, I shall do as much as _my poor carcass_ may endure."[754]

  [754] Burnet's Ref. vol. ii. Records, p. xiii.

When Da Casale reached Bologna, he pressed Lautrec to go and constrain
the pontiff to sign the act which Gambara was already bearing to
England. On receiving the new despatches he returned in all haste to
Orvieto, and the pope was very much alarmed when he heard of his
arrival. He had feared to grant a simple paper, destined to remain
_secret_; and now he is required to send a prince of the church! Will
Henry never be satisfied? "The mission you desire would be full of
dangers," he replied; "but we have discovered another means, alone
calculated to finish this business. Mind you do not say that I pointed
it out to you," added the pope in a mysterious tone; "but that it was
suggested by Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor and Simonetta." Da Casale was
all attention. "There is not a doctor in the world who can better
decide on this matter, and on its most private circumstances, than the
king himself.[755] If therefore he sincerely believes that Catherine
had really become his brother's wife, let him empower the cardinal of
York to pronounce the divorce, and let him take another wife without
any further ceremony;[756] he can then afterwards demand the
confirmation of the consistory. The affair being concluded in this
way, I will take the rest upon myself."--"But," said Da Casale,
somewhat dissatisfied with this new intrigue, "I must fulfil my
mission, and the king demands a legate."--"And whom shall I send,"
asked Clement. "Da Monte? he cannot move. De Cæsis? he is at Naples.
Ara Coeli? he has the gout. Piccolomini? he is of the imperial
party.... Campeggio would be the best, but he is at Rome, where he
supplies my place, and cannot leave without peril to the church."...
And then with some emotion he added, "I throw myself into his
majesty's arms. The emperor will never forgive what I am doing. If he
hears of it he will summon me before _his council_; I shall have no
rest until he has deprived me of my throne and my life."[757]

  [755] Nullus doctor in mundo est, qui de hac re melius decernere
  possit quam ipse rex. Ibid. p. xiv.

  [756] Aliam uxorem ducat. Ibid.

  [757] Vocabit eum ad concilium, vel nihil aliud quæret, nisi ut eum
  omni statu et vita privet. Ibid. p. xxvi.

Da Casale hastened to forward to London the result of the conference.
Clement being unable to untie the knot, requested Henry to cut it.
Will this prince hesitate to employ so easy a means, the pope (Clement
declared it himself) being willing to ratify everything?

Here closes Henry's first campaign in the territories of the popedom.
We shall now see the results of so many efforts.




CHAPTER X.

     Disappointment in England--War declared against Charles
     V--Wolsey desires to get him deposed by the Pope--A new
     Scheme--Embassy of Fox and Gardiner--Their Arrival at
     Orvieto--Their first interview with Clement--The Pope reads
     a treatise by Henry--Gardiner's Threats and Clement's
     Promise--The Modern Fabius--Fresh Interview and Menaces--The
     pope has not _the key_--Gardiner's Proposition--Difficulties
     and delays of the Cardinals--Gardiner's last Blows--Reverses
     of Charles V in Italy--The Pope's Terror and Concession--The
     _Commission_ granted--Wolsey demands the _Engagement_--A
     Loophole--The Pope's Distress.


[Sidenote: DISAPPOINTMENT IN ENGLAND.]

Never was disappointment more complete than that felt by Henry and
Wolsey after the arrival of Gambara with the commission; the king was
angry, the cardinal vexed. What Clement called the _sacrifice of his
life_ was in reality but a sheet of paper fit only to be thrown into
the fire. "This commission is of no value,"[758] said Wolsey.--"And
even to put it into execution," added Henry, "we must wait until the
imperialists have quitted Italy! The pope is putting us off to the
Greek calends."--"His holiness," observed the cardinal, "does not bind
himself to pronounce the divorce; the queen will therefore appeal from
our judgment."--"And even if the pope had bound himself," added the
king, "it would be sufficient for the emperor to smile upon him, to
make him retract what he had promised."--"It is all a cheat and a
mockery," concluded both king and minister.

  [758] Nullius sit roboris vel effectus. (State Papers, vii. p. 50.) It
  is of no power or effect.

[Sidenote: WAR DECLARED AGAINST CHARLES.]

What was to be done next? The only way to make Clement ours, thought
Wolsey, is to get rid of Charles; it is time his pride was brought
down. Accordingly, on the 21st of January 1528, France and England
declared hostilities against the emperor. When Charles heard of this
proceeding he exclaimed: "I know the hand that has flung the torch of
war into the midst of Europe. My crime is not having placed the
cardinal of York on St. Peter's throne."

A mere declaration of war was not enough for Wolsey; the bishop of
Bayonne, ambassador from France, seeing him one day somewhat
excited,[759] whispered in his ear: "In former times popes have
deposed emperors for smaller offences." Charles's deposition would
have delivered the king of France from a troublesome rival; but Du
Bellay, fearing to take the initiative in so bold an enterprise,
suggested the idea to the cardinal. Wolsey reflected: such a thought
had never before occurred to him. Taking the ambassador aside to a
window, he there swore _stoutly_, said Du Bellay, that he should be
delighted to use all his influence to get Charles deposed by the pope.
"No one is more likely than yourself," replied the bishop, "to induce
Clement to do it."--"I will use all my credit," rejoined Wolsey, and
the two priests separated. This bright idea the cardinal never forgot.
Charles had robbed him of the tiara; he will retaliate by depriving
Charles of his crown. _An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth._
Staffileo, dean of the Rota, was then in London, and still burning
with resentment against the author of the Sack of Rome, he favourably
received the suggestions Wolsey made to him; and, finally, the envoy
from John Zapolya, king-elect of Hungary, supported the project. But
the kings of France and England were not so easily induced to put the
thrones of kings at the disposal of the priests. It appears, however,
that the pope was sounded on the subject; and if the emperor had been
beaten in Italy, it is probable that the bull would have been
fulminated against him. His sword preserved his crown, and the plot of
the two bishops failed.

  [759] Du Bellay to Francis I. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 64.

The king's councillors began to seek for less heroic means. "We must
prosecute the affair at _Rome_," said some.--"No," said others, "in
_England_. The pope is too much afraid of the emperor to pronounce the
divorce in person."--"If the pope fears the emperor more than the king
of England," exclaimed the proud Tudor, "we shall find some other way
to set him at ease."[760] Thus, at the first contradiction, Henry
placed his hand on his sword, and threatened to sever the ties which
bound his kingdom to the throne of the Italian pontiff.

  [760] Burnet's Reformation, i. p. 50.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S NEW PROJECT.]

"I have hit it!" said Wolsey at length; "we must combine the two
clans--judge the affair in London, and at the same time bind the
Pontiff at Rome." And then the able cardinal proposed the draft of a
bull, by which the pope, delegating his authority to two legates,
should declare that the acts of that delegation should have a
perpetual effect, notwithstanding any contrary decrees that might
subsequently emanate from his infallible authority.[761] A new mission
was decided upon for the accomplishment of this bold design.

  [761] Non obstantibus quibuscunque decretis revocatoriis præsentis
  concessionis nostræ. (Burnet, Records, ii, p. 17.) No revocatory
  decrees whatsoever shall invalidate my present concession.

Wolsey, annoyed by the folly of Knight and his colleagues, desired men
of another stamp. He therefore cast his eyes on his own secretary,
Stephen Gardiner, an active man, intelligent, supple, and crafty, a
learned canonist, desirous of the king's favour, and, above all, a
good Romanist, which at Rome was not without its advantage. Gardiner
was in small the living image of his master; and hence the cardinal
sometimes styled him _the half of himself_.[762] Edward Fox, the chief
almoner, was joined with him--a moderate, influential man, a
particular friend of Henry's, and a zealous advocate of the divorce.
Fox was named first in the commission; but it was agreed that Gardiner
should be the real head of the embassy. "Repeat without ceasing,"
Wolsey told them, "that his majesty cannot do otherwise than separate
from the queen. Attack each one on his weak side. Declare to the pope
that the king promises to defend him against the emperor; and to the
cardinals that their services will be nobly rewarded.[763] If that
does not suffice, let the energy of your words be such as to excite a
wholesome fear in the pontiff."

  [762] Mei dimidium. Ibid. p. 15.

  [763] Money to present the cardinals. Strype's Mem. i, p. 137.

Fox and Gardiner, after a gracious reception at Paris (23rd February),
by Francis I, arrived at Orvieto on the 20th of March, after many
perils, and with their dress in such disorder, that no one could have
taken them for the ambassadors of Henry VIII. "What a city!" they
exclaimed, as they passed through its streets; "what ruins, what
misery! It is indeed truly called Orvieto (_urbs vetus_)!" The state
of the town gave them no very grand idea of the state of the popedom,
and they imagined that with a pontiff so poorly lodged, their
negotiation could not be otherwise than easy. "I give you my house,"
said Da Casale, to whom they went, "my room and my own bed;" and as
they made some objections, he added: "It is not possible to lodge you
elsewhere; I have even been forced to borrow what was necessary to
receive you."[764] Da Casale, pressing them to change their clothes,
which were still dripping (they had just crossed a river on their
mules), they replied, that being obliged to travel post, they had not
been able to bring a change of raiment. "Alas!" said Casale, "what is
to be done? there are few persons in Orvieto who have more garments
than one;[765] even the shopkeepers have no cloth for sale; this town
is quite a prison. People say the pope is at liberty here. A pretty
liberty indeed! Want, impure air, wretched lodging, and a thousand
other inconveniences keep the holy father closer than when he was in
the Castle of St. Angelo. Accordingly, he told me the other day, it
was better to be in captivity at Rome than at liberty here."[766]

  [764] Borrowing of divers men so much as might furnish three beds.
  Ibid. p. 139.

  [765] Strype's Mem. i. p. 139.

  [766] State Papers, vii. p. 63.

[Sidenote: FIRST AUDIENCE WITH THE POPE.]

In two days, however, they managed to procure some new clothing; and
being now in a condition to show themselves, Henry's agents were
admitted to an after-dinner audience on Monday the 22nd of March
(1528).

Da Casale conducted them to an old building in ruins. "This is where
his holiness lives," he said. They looked at one another with
astonishment, and crossing the rubbish lying about, passed through
three chambers whose ceilings had fallen in, whose windows were
curtainless, and in which thirty persons "_riff-raff_ were standing
against the bare walls for a garnishment."[767] This was the pope's
court.

  [767] Strype, i. p. 139.

At length the ambassadors reached the pontiff's room, and placed
Henry's letters in his hands. "Your holiness," said Gardiner, "when
sending the king a dispensation, was pleased to add, that if this
document were not sufficient, you would willingly give a better. It is
that favour the king now desires." The pope with embarrassment strove
to soften his refusal. "I am informed," he said, "that the king is led
on in this affair by a secret inclination, and that the lady he loves
is far from being worthy of him." Gardiner replied with firmness: "The
king truly deserves to marry again after the divorce, that he may have
an heir to the crown; but the woman he proposes to take is animated by
the noblest sentiments; the cardinal of York and all England do homage
to her virtues."[768] The pope appeared convinced. "Besides,"
continued Gardiner, "the king has written a book on the motives of his
divorce."--"Good! come and read it to me to-morrow," rejoined Clement.

  [768] The cardinal's judgment as to the good qualities of the
  gentlewoman. Ibid. p. 141.

[Sidenote: SECOND AUDIENCE.]

The next day the English envoys had hardly appeared, before Clement
took Henry's book, ran over it as he walked up and down the room, and
then seating himself on a long bench covered with an old carpet, "not
worth twenty pence," says an annalist, he read the book aloud. He
counted the number of arguments, made objections as if Henry were
present, and piled them one upon another without waiting for an
answer. "The marriages forbidden in Leviticus," said he, in a short
and quick tone of voice, "are permitted in Deuteronomy; now
Deuteronomy coming after Leviticus, we are bound by the latter. The
honour of Catherine and the emperor is at stake, and the divorce would
give rise to a terrible war."[769] The pope continued speaking, and
whenever the Englishmen attempted to reply, he bade them be silent,
and kept on reading. "It is an excellent book," said he, however, in a
courteous tone, when he had ended; "I shall keep it to read over again
at my leisure." Gardiner then presenting a draft of the commission
which Henry required, Clement made answer: "It is too late to look at
it now; leave it with me."--"But we are in haste," added
Gardiner.--"Yes, yes, I know it," said the pope. All his efforts
tended to protract the business.

  [769] Quis præstabit ne hoc divortium magni alicujus belli causam
  præbeat. Sanderus, p. 26.

On the 28th of March, the ambassadors were conducted to the room in
which the pope slept; the cardinals Sanctorum Quatuor and De Monte, as
well as the councillor of the Rota, Simonetta, were then with him.
Chairs were arranged in a semicircle. "Be seated," said Clement, who
stood in the middle.[770] "Master Gardiner, now tell me what you
want."--"There is no question between us but one of _time_. You
promised to ratify the divorce, as soon as it was pronounced; and we
require you to do _before_ what you engage to do _after_. What is
right on one day, must be right on another." Then, raising his voice,
the Englishman added: "If his majesty perceives that no more respect
is paid to him than to a common man,[771] he will have recourse to a
_remedy_ which I will not name, but which will not fail in its
effect."

  [770] In medio semicirculi. Strype, Records, i, p. 81.

  [771] Promiscuæ plebis. Ibid. p. 82.

[Sidenote: THE TEMPORIZER.]

The pope and his councillors looked at one another in silence;[772]
they had understood him. The imperious Gardiner, remarking the effect
which he had produced, then added in an absolute tone: "We have our
instructions, and are determined to keep to them."--"I am ready to do
everything compatible with my honour," exclaimed Clement, in
alarm.--"What your honour would not permit you to grant," said the
proud ambassador, "the honour of the king, my master, would not permit
him to ask." Gardiner's language became more imperative every minute.
"Well, then," said Clement, driven to extremity, "I will do what the
king demands, and if the emperor is angry, I cannot help it." The
interview, which had commenced with a storm, finished with a gleam of
sunshine.

  [772] Every man looked on other and so stayed. Ibid.

That bright gleam soon disappeared: Clement, who imagined he saw in
Henry a Hannibal at war with Rome, wished to play the temporizer, the
_Fabius Cunctator_. "_Bis dat qui cito dat_,"[773] said Gardiner
sharply, who observed this manoeuvre.--"It is a question of law,"
replied the pope, "and as I am very ignorant in these matters, I must
give the doctors of the canon law the necessary time to make it all
clear."--"By his delays Fabius Maximus saved Rome," rejoined Gardiner;
"you will destroy it by yours."[774]--"Alas!" exclaimed the pope, "if
I say the king is right, I shall have to go back to prison."[775]--
"When truth is concerned," said the ambassador, "of what consequence
are the opinions of men?" Gardiner was speaking at his ease, but
Clement found that the castle of St. Angelo was not without weight in
the balance. "You may be sure that I shall do everything for the
best," replied the modern Fabius. With these words the conference
terminated.

  [773] He gives twice who gives quickly.

  [774] In Fabio Maximo qui rem Romanam cunctando restituit. Strype, p.
  90.

  [775] Materia novæ captivitatis. Ibid. p. 86.

[Sidenote: THE POPE WITHOUT THE KEY.]

Such were the struggles of England with the popedom--struggles which
were to end in a definitive rupture. Gardiner knew that he had a
skilful adversary to deal with; too cunning to allow himself to be
irritated, he coolly resolved to frighten the pontiff: that was in his
instructions. On the Friday before Palm Sunday, he was ushered into
the pope's closet; there he found Clement attended by De Monte,
Sanctorum Quatuor, Simonetta, Staffileo, Paul, auditor of the Rota,
and Gambara. "It is impossible," said the cardinals, "to grant a
decretal commission in which the pope pronounces _de jure_ in favour
of the divorce, with a promise of confirmation _de facto_." Gardiner
insisted; but no persuasion, "neither dulce nor poynante,"[776] could
move the pontiff. The envoy judged the moment had come to discharge
his strongest battery. "O perverse race," said he to the pontiff's
ministers, "instead of being harmless as doves, you are as full of
dissimulation and malice as serpents; promising everything but
performing nothing.[777] England will be driven to believe that God
has taken from you the key of knowledge, and that the laws of the
popes, ambiguous to the popes themselves, are only fit to be cast into
the fire.[778] The king has hitherto restrained his people, impatient
of the Romish yoke; but he will now give them the rein." A long and
gloomy silence followed. Then the Englishman, suddenly changing his
tone, softly approached Clement, who had left his seat, and conjured
him in a low voice to consider carefully what justice required of him.
"Alas!" replied Clement, "I tell you again, I am ignorant in these
matters. According to the maxims of the canon law _the pope carries
all laws in the tablets of his heart_,[779] but unfortunately God has
never given me _the key_ that opens them." As he could not escape by
silence, Clement retreated under cover of a jest, and heedlessly
pronounced the condemnation of the popedom. If he had never received
the famous _key_, there was no reason why other pontiffs should have
possessed it. The next day he found another loophole; for when the
ambassadors told him that the king would carry on the matter without
him, he sighed, drew out his handkerchief, and said as he wiped his
eyes:[780] "Would to God that I were dead!" Clement employed tears as
a political engine.

  [776] Ibid. p. 114.

  [777] Pleni omni dolo et versatione et dissimulatione. Verbis omnia
  pollicentur, reipsa nihil præstant. Ibid. p. 98.

  [778] Digna esse quæ mandentur flammis pontificia jura. Ibid.

  [779] Pontifex habet omnia jura in scrinio pectoris. Strype, p. 99.

  [780] Ibid. p. 100.

"We shall not get the _decretal_ commission," (that which pronounced
the divorce) said Fox and Gardiner after this, "and it is not really
necessary. Let us demand the _general_ commission (authorizing the
legates to pronounce it), and exact a promise that shall supply the
place of the act which is denied us." Clement, who was ready to make
all the promises in the world, swore to ratify the sentence of the
legates without delay. Fox and Gardiner then presented to Simonetta a
draft of the act required. The dean, after reading it, returned it to
the envoys, saying, "It is very well, I think, except _the end_;[781]
show it Sanctorum Quatuor." The next morning they carried the draft to
that cardinal: "How long has it been the rule for the patient to write
the prescription? I always thought it was the physician's
business."--"No one knows the disease so well as the patient," replied
Gardiner; "and this disease may be of such a nature that the doctor
cannot prescribe the remedy without taking the patient's advice."
Sanctorum Quatuor read the prescription, and then returned it, saying:
"It is not bad, with the exception of _the beginning_.[782] Take the
draft to De Monte and the other councillors." The latter liked neither
beginning, middle, nor end. "We will send for you this evening," said
De Monte.

  [781] The matter was good saving in the latter end. Ibid. p. 102.

  [782] The beginning pleased him not.

[Sidenote: A NEW TRAGEDY.]

Three or four days having elapsed, Henry's envoys again waited on the
pope, who showed them the draft prepared by his councillors. Gardiner
remarking in it additions, retrenchments, and corrections, threw it
disdainfully from him, and said coldly: "Your holiness is deceiving
us; you have selected these men to be the instruments of your
duplicity." Clement, in alarm, sent for Simonetta; and after a warm
discussion,[783] the envoys, more discontented than ever, quitted the
pope at one in the morning.

  [783] Incalescente disputatione. Strype, p. 104.

The night brings wisdom. "I only desire two little words more in the
commission," said Gardiner next day to Clement and Simonetta. The pope
requested Simonetta to wait upon the cardinals immediately; the latter
sent word that they were at dinner, and adjourned the business until
the morrow.

When Gardiner heard of this Epicurean message, he thought the time had
come for striking a decisive blow. A new tragedy began.[784] "We are
deceived," exclaimed he, "you are laughing at us. This is not the way
to gain the favour of princes. Water mixed with wine spoils it;[785]
your corrections nullify our document. These ignorant and suspicious
priests have spelled over our draft as if a scorpion was hidden under
every word.[786]--You made us come to Italy," said he to Staffileo and
Gambara, "like hawks which the fowler lures by holding out to them a
piece of meat;[787] and now that we are here, the bait has
disappeared, and, instead of giving us what we sought, you pretend to
lull us to sleep by the sweet voice of the sirens."[788] Then, turning
to Clement, the English envoy added, "Your holiness will have to
answer for this." The pope sighed and wiped away his tears. "It was
God's pleasure," continued Gardiner, whose tone became more
threatening every minute, "that we should see with our own eyes the
disposition of the people here. It is time to have done. Henry is not
an ordinary prince,--bear in mind that you are insulting _the defender
of the faith_.... You are going to lose the favour of the only monarch
who protects you, and the apostolical chair, already tottering, will
fall into dust, and disappear entirely amidst the applause of all
Christendom."

  [784] Here began a new tragedy. Ibid. p. 105.

  [785] Vinum conspurcat infusa aqua. Ibid.

  [786] Putantes sub omni verbo latere scorpionem. Ibid.

  [787] Prætendere pugno carnem. Ibid.

  [788] Dulcibus sirenum vocibus incantare. Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE POPE'S TERROR.]

Gardiner paused. The pope was moved. The state of Italy seemed to
confirm but too strongly the sinister predictions of the envoy of
Henry VIII. The imperial troops, terrified and pursued by Lautrec, had
abandoned Rome and retired on Naples. The French general was following
up this wretched army of Charles V, decimated by pestilence and
debauchery; Doria, at the head of his galleys, had destroyed the
Spanish fleet; Gaeta and Naples only were left to the imperialists;
and Lautrec, who was besieging the latter place, wrote to Henry on the
26th of August that all would soon be over. The timid Clement VII had
attentively watched all these catastrophes. Accordingly, Gardiner had
hardly denounced the danger which threatened the popedom, before he
turned pale with affright, rose from his seat, stretched out his arms
in terror, as if he had desired to repel some monster ready to devour
him, and exclaimed, "Write, write! Insert whatever words you please."
As he said this, he paced up and down the room, raising his hands to
heaven and sighing deeply, while Fox and Gardiner, standing
motionless, looked on in silence. A tempestuous wind seemed to be
stirring the depths of the abyss; the ambassadors waited until the
storm was abated. At last Clement recovered himself,[789] made a few
trivial excuses, and dismissed Henry's ministers. It was an hour past
midnight.

  [789] Compositis affectibus. Strype, p. 106.

It was neither morality, nor religion, nor even the laws of the church
which led Clement to refuse the divorce; ambition and fear were his
only motives. He would have desired that Henry should first constrain
the emperor to restore him his territories. But the king of England,
who felt himself unable to protect the pope against Charles, required,
however, this unhappy pontiff to provoke the emperor's anger. Clement
reaped the fruits of that fatal system which had transformed the
church of Jesus Christ into a pitiful combination of policy and
cunning.

[Sidenote: THE ENGAGEMENT CONCEDED.]

On the next day, the tempest having thoroughly abated,[790] Sanctorum
Quatuor corrected the commission. It was signed, completed by a leaden
seal attached to a piece of string, and then handed to Gardiner, who
read it. The bull was addressed to Wolsey, and "authorized him, in
case he should acknowledge the nullity of Henry's marriage, to
pronounce judicially the sentence of divorce, but without noise or
display of judgment;[791] for that purpose he might take any English
bishop for his colleague."--"All that we can do, you can do," said the
pope. "We are very doubtful," said the importunate Gardiner after
reading the bull, "whether this commission, without the clauses of
_confirmation_ and _revocation_, will satisfy his majesty; but we
will do all in our power to get him to accept it."--"Above all, do not
speak of our altercations," said the pope. Gardiner, like a discreet
diplomist, did not scruple to note down every particular in cipher in
the letters whence these details are procured. "Tell the king,"
continued the pontiff, "that this commission is on my part a
declaration of war against the emperor, and that I now place myself
under his majesty's protection." The chief-almoner of England departed
for London with the precious document.

  [790] The divers tempests passed over. Ibid.

  [791] Sine strepitu et figura judicii sententiam divortii judicialiter
  proferendam. Rymer, Foedera, vi, pars. ii, p. 95.

But one storm followed close upon another. Fox had not long quitted
Orvieto when new letters arrived from Wolsey, demanding the fourth of
the acts previously requested, namely, the _engagement_ to ratify at
Rome whatever the commissioners might decide in England. Gardiner was
to set about it _in season and out of season_; the verbal promise of
the pope counted for nothing; this document must be had, whether the
pope was ill, dying, or dead.[792] "_Ego et Rex meus_, his majesty and
I command you;" said Wolsey; "this divorce is of more consequence to
us than twenty popedoms."[793] The English envoy renewed their demand.
"Since you refuse the decretal," he said, "there is the greater reason
why you should not refuse _the engagement_." This application led to
fresh discussion and fresh tears. Clement gave way once more; but the
Italians, more crafty than Gardiner, reserved a loophole in the
document through which the pontiff might escape. The messenger
Thaddeus carried it to London; and Gardiner left Orvieto for Rome to
confer with Campeggio.

  [792] In casu mortis pontificis, quod Deus avertat. (Burnet, Records,
  p. xxviii.) In case of the death of the pope, which may God avert.

  [793] The thing which the king's highness and I more esteem than
  twenty papalities. Ibid. p. xxv.

Clement was a man of penetrating mind, and although he knew as well as
any how to deliver a clever speech, he was irresolute and timid; and
accordingly the commission had not long been despatched before he
repented. Full of distress, he paced the ruined chambers of his old
palace, and imagined he saw hanging over his head that terrible sword
of Charles the Fifth, whose edge he had already felt. "Wretch that I
am," said he, "cruel wolves surround me; they open their jaws to
swallow me up.... I see none but enemies around me. At their head is
the emperor.... What will he do? Alas! I have yielded that fatal
commission which the general of the Spanish observance had enjoined me
to refuse. Behind Charles come the Venetians, the Florentines, the
duke of Ferrara.... They have cast lots upon my vesture.[794]... Next
comes the king of France, who promises nothing, but looks on with
folded arms; or rather, what perfidy! calls upon me at this critical
moment to deprive Charles V of his crown.... And last, but not least,
Henry VIII, _the defender of the faith_, indulges in frightful menaces
against me.... The emperor desires to maintain the queen on the throne
of England; the latter, to put her away.... Would to God that
Catherine were in her grave! But, alas! she lives ... to be the apple
of discord dividing the two greatest monarchies, and the inevitable
cause of the ruin of the popedom.... Wretched man that I am! how cruel
is my perplexity, and around me, I can see nothing but horrible
confusion."[795]

  [794] Novo foedere inito super vestem suam miserunt sortem. (Strype,
  Records, i. p. 109.) A new treaty being entered upon they have cast
  lots upon his vesture.

  [795] His holiness findeth himself in a marvellous perplexity and
  confusion. Ibid. p. 108.




CHAPTER XI.

     Fox's Report to Henry and Anne--Wolsey's Impression--He
     demands the Decretal--One of the Cardinal's petty
     Manoeuvres--He sets his Conscience at Rest--Gardiner fails at
     Rome--Wolsey's new perfidy--The King's Anger against the
     Pope--Sir T. More predicts Religious Liberty--Immorality of
     Ultramontane Socialism--Erasmus invited--Wolsey's last
     Flight--Energetic Efforts at Rome--Clement grants
     all--Wolsey triumphs--Union of Rome and England.


[Sidenote: FOX'S REPORT TO HENRY AND ANNE.]

During this time Fox was making his way to England. On the 27th of
April he reached Paris; on the 2nd of May he landed at Sandwich, and
hastened to Greenwich, where he arrived the next day at five in the
evening, just as Wolsey had left for London. Fox's arrival was an
event of great importance. "Let him go to Lady Anne's apartments,"
said the king, "and wait for me there." Fox told Anne Boleyn of his
and Gardiner's exertions, and the success of their mission, at which
she expressed her very great satisfaction. Indeed, more than a year
had elapsed since her return to England, and she no longer resisted
Henry's project. "Mistress Anne always called me Master Stephen,"
wrote Fox to Gardiner, "her thoughts were so full of you." The king
appeared and Anne withdrew.

[Sidenote: FOX REPORTS TO THE KING.]

"Tell me as briefly as possible what you have done," said Henry. Fox
placed in the king's hands the pope's insignificant letter, which he
bade his almoner read; then that from Staffileo, which was put on one
side; and lastly Gardiner's letter, which Henry took hastily and read
himself. "The pope has promised us," said Fox, as he terminated his
report, "to confirm the sentence of the divorce, as soon as it has
been pronounced by the commissioners."--"Excellent!" exclaimed Henry;
and then he ordered Anne to be called in. "Repeat before this lady,"
he said to Fox, "what you have just told me." The almoner did so. "The
pope is convinced of the justice of your cause," he said in
conclusion, "and the cardinal's letter has convinced him that my lady
is worthy of the throne of England."--"Make your report to Wolsey this
very night," said the king.

It was ten o'clock when the chief almoner reached the cardinal's
palace; he had gone to bed, but immediate orders were given that Fox
should be conducted to his room. Being a churchman, Wolsey could
understand the pope's artifices better than Henry; accordingly, as
soon as he learnt that Fox had brought the commission only, he became
alarmed at the task imposed upon him. "What a misfortune!" he
exclaimed; "your commission is no better than Gambara's.... However,
go and rest yourself; I will examine these papers to-morrow." Fox
withdrew in confusion. "It is not bad," said Wolsey the next day, "but
the whole business still falls on me alone!--Never mind, I must wear a
contented look, or else...." In the afternoon he summoned into his
closet Fox, Dr. Bell, and Viscount Rochford: "Master Gardiner has
surpassed himself," said the crafty supple cardinal; "What a man! what
an inestimable treasure! what a jewel in our kingdom!"[796]

  [796] O non æstimandum thesaurum margaritamque regni nostri. Strype,
  Records, i, p. 119.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S FRAUD.]

He did not mean a word he was saying. Wolsey was dissatisfied with
every thing,--with the refusal of the _decretal_, and with the drawing
up of the _commission_, as well as of the _engagement_ (which arrived
soon after in good condition, so far as the outside was concerned).
But the king's ill humour would infallibly recoil on Wolsey; so
putting a good face on a bad matter, he ruminated in secret on the
means of obtaining what had been refused him. "Write to Gardiner,"
said he to Fox, "that every thing makes me desire the pope's
_decretal_--the need of unburdening my conscience, of being able to
reply to the calumniators who will attack my judgment,[797] and the
thought of the accidents to which the life of man is exposed. Let his
holiness, then, pronounce the divorce himself; we engage on our part
to keep his resolution secret. But order Master Stephen to employ
every kind of persuasion that his _rhetoric_ can imagine." In case the
pope should positively refuse the decretal, Wolsey required that at
least Campeggio should share the responsibility of the divorce with
him.

  [797] Justissime obstruere ora calumniantium et temere dissentientium.
  Ibid. p. 120.

This was not all: while reading the engagement, Wolsey discovered the
loophole which had escaped Gardiner, and this is what he
contrived:--"The _engagement_ which the pope has sent us," he wrote to
Gardiner, "is drawn up in such terms that he can retract it at
pleasure; we must therefore find some _good way_ to obtain another.
You may do it under this pretence. You will appear before his holiness
with a dejected air, and tell him that the courier, to whom the
conveyance of the said engagement was intrusted, fell into the water
with his despatches, so that the rescripts were totally defaced and
illegible; that I have not dared deliver it into the king's hands, and
unless his holiness will grant you a duplicate, some notable blame
will be imputed unto you for not taking better care in its
transmission. And further, you will continue: I remember the
expressions of the former document, and to save your holiness trouble,
I will dictate them to your secretary. Then," added Wolsey, "while the
secretary is writing, you will find means to introduce, without its
being perceived, as many _fat_, _pregnant_, and available words as
possible, to bind the pope and enlarge my powers, the politic handling
of which the king's highness and I commit unto your good
discretion."[798]

  [798] Burnet, Records, p. xxx.

Such was the expedient invented by Wolsey. The papal secretary,
imagining he was making a fresh copy of the original document (which
was, by the way, in perfect condition), was at the dictation of the
ambassador to draw up another of a different tenor. The "politic
handling" of the cardinal-legate, which was not very unlike forgery,
throws a disgraceful light on the policy of the sixteenth century.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S HYPOCRISY.]

Wolsey read this letter to the chief-almoner; and then, to set his
conscience at rest, he added piously: "In an affair of such high
importance, on which depends the glory or the ruin of the realm,--my
honour or my disgrace--the condemnation of my soul or my everlasting
merit--I will listen solely to the voice of my conscience,[799] and I
shall act in such a manner as to be able to render an account to God
without fear."

  [799] Reclamante conscientia. Strype, Records, i. p. 124.

Wolsey did more; it seems that the boldness of his declarations
reassured him with regard to the baseness of his works. Being at
Greenwich on the following Sunday, he said to the king in the presence
of Fox, Bell, Wolman, and Tuke: "I am bound to your royal person more
than any subject was ever bound to his prince. I am ready to sacrifice
my goods, my blood, my life for you.... But my obligations towards God
are greater still. For that cause, rather than act against his will, I
would endure the extremest evils.[800] I would suffer your royal
indignation, and, if necessary, deliver my body to the executioners
that they might cut it in pieces." What could be the spirit then
impelling Wolsey? Was it blindness or impudence? He may have been
sincere in the words he addressed to Henry; at the bottom of his heart
he may have desired to set the pope above the king, and the church of
Rome above the kingdom of England; and this desire may have appeared
to him a sublime virtue, such as would hide a multitude of sins. What
the public conscience would have called treason, was heroism to the
Romish priest. This zeal for the papacy is sometimes met with in
conjunction with the most flagrant immorality. If Wolsey deceived the
pope, it was to save popery in the realm of England. Fox, Bell,
Wolman, and Tuke listened to him with astonishment.[801] Henry, who
thought he knew his man, received these holy declarations without
alarm, and the cardinal having thus eased his conscience, proceeded
boldly to his iniquities. It seems, however, that the inward
reproaches which he silenced in public, had their revenge in secret.
One of his officers entering his closet shortly afterwards, presented
a letter addressed to Campeggio for his signature. It ended thus: "I
hope all things shall be done according to the will of God, the desire
of the king, the quiet of the kingdom, and to our honour _with a good
conscience_." The cardinal having read the letter, dashed out the four
last words.[802] Conscience has a sting from which none can escape,
not even a Wolsey.

  [800] Extrema quæque.....contra conscientiam suam. (Strype, Records,
  i. p. 126.) Any extreme whatever ... contrary to his conscience.

  [801] To my great mervail and no less joy and comfort. Ibid. p. 126.

  [802] Burnet's Ref. vol. i, p. 41.

However, Gardiner lost no time in Italy. When he met Campeggio (to
whom Henry VIII had given a palace at Rome, and a bishopric in
England), he entreated him to go to London and pronounce the divorce.
This prelate, who was to be empowered in 1530 with authority to crush
Protestantism in Germany, seemed bound to undertake a mission that
would save Romanism in Britain. But proud of his position at Rome,
where he acted as the pope's representative, he cared not for a charge
that would undoubtedly draw upon him either Henry's hatred or the
emperor's anger. He begged to be excused. The pope spoke in a similar
tone. When he was informed of this, the terrible Tudor, beginning to
believe that Clement desired to entangle him, as the hunter entangles
the lion in his toils, gave vent to his anger on Tuke, Fox, and
Gardiner, but particularly on Wolsey. Nor were reasons wanting for
this explosion. The cardinal, perceiving that his hatred against
Charles had carried him too far, pretended that it was without his
orders that Clarencieux, bribed by France, had combined with the
French ambassador to declare war against the emperor; and added that
he would have the English king-at-arms put to death as he passed
through Calais. This was an infallible means of preventing
disagreeable revelations. But the herald, who had been forewarned,
crossed by way of Boulogne, and, without the cardinal's knowledge,
obtained an interview with Henry, before whom he placed the _orders_
he had received from Wolsey in _three_ consecutive letters. The king,
astonished at his minister's impudence, exclaimed profanely: "O Lord
Jesu, the man in whom I had most confidence told me quite the
contrary." He then summoned Wolsey before him, and reproached him
severely for his falsehoods. The wretched man shook like a leaf. Henry
appeared to pardon him, but the season of his favour had passed away.
Henceforward he kept the cardinal as one of those instruments we make
use of for a time, and then throw away when we have no further need of
them.

[Sidenote: HE BEGINS TO TREMBLE.]

The king's anger against the pope far exceeded that against Wolsey; he
trembled from head to foot, rose from his seat, then sat down again,
and vented his wrath in the most violent language:--"What!" he
exclaimed, "I shall exhaust my political combinations, empty my
treasury, make war upon my friends, consume my forces ... and for
whom?... for a heartless priest who, considering neither the
exigencies of my honour, nor the peace of my conscience, nor the
prosperity of my kingdom, nor the numerous benefits which I have
lavished on him, refuses me a favour, which he ought, as the common
father of the faithful, to grant even to an enemy.... Hypocrite!...
You cover yourself with the cloak of friendship, you flatter us by
crafty practices,[803] but you give us only a bastard document, and
you say like Pilate: It matters little to me if this king perishes,
and all his kingdom with him; take him and judge him according to your
law!... I understand you ... you wish to entangle us in the
briers,[804] to catch us in a trap, to lure us into a pitfall.... But
we have discovered the snare; we shall escape from your ambuscade, and
brave your power."

  [803] By crafty means and under the face and visage of entire amity.
  Strype, vol. i, p. 166.

  [804] To involve and cast us so in the briers and fetters. Strype,
  vol. i. p. 166.

[Sidenote: SIR T. MORE'S PROPHECY.]

Such was the language then heard at the court of England, says an
historian.[805] The monks and priests began to grow alarmed, while the
most enlightened minds already saw in the distance the first gleams of
religious liberty. One day, at a time when Henry was proving himself a
zealous follower of the Romish doctrines, Sir Thomas More was sitting
in the midst of his family, when his son-in-law, Roper, now become a
warm papist, exclaimed: "Happy kingdom of England, where no heretic
dares show his face!"--"That is true, son Roper," said More; "we seem
to sit now upon the mountains, treading the heretics under our feet
like ants; but I pray God that some of us do not live to see the day
when we gladly would wish to be at league with them, to suffer them to
have their churches quietly to themselves, so that they would be
content to let us have ours peaceably to ourselves." Roper angrily
replied:[806] "By my word, sir, that is very desperately spoken!"
More, however, was in the right; genius is sometimes a great diviner.
The Reformation was on the point of inaugurating religious liberty,
and by that means placing civil liberty on an immovable foundation.

  [805] Ibid.

  [806] My uncle said in a rage. More's Life, p. 132.

[Sidenote: ROMANISM AND CONSCIENCE.]

Henry himself grew wiser by degrees. He began to have doubts about the
Roman hierarchy, and to ask himself, whether a priest-king,
embarrassed in all the political complications of Europe, could be the
head of the church of Jesus Christ. Pious individuals in his kingdom
recognized in Scripture and in conscience a law superior to the law of
Rome, and refused to sacrifice at the command of the church their
moral convictions, sanctioned by the revelation of God. The
hierarchical system, which claims to absorb man in the papacy, had
oppressed the consciences of Christians for centuries. When the Romish
Church had required from such as Berengarius, John Huss, Savonarola,
John Wesel, and Luther, the denial of their consciences enlightened by
the word, that is to say, by the voice of God, it had shown most
clearly how great is the immorality of ultramontane socialism. "If the
Christian consents to this enormous demand of the hierarchy," said
the most enlightened men; "if he renounces his own notions of good and
evil in favour of the clergy; if he reserves not his right to obey
God, who speaks to him in the Bible, rather than men, even if their
agreement were universal; if Henry VIII, for instance, should silence
his conscience, which condemns his union with his brother's widow, to
obey the clerical voice which approves of it; by that very act he
renounces truth, duty, and even God himself." But we must add, that if
the rights of conscience were beginning to be understood in England,
it was not about such holy matters as these that the pope and Henry
were contending. They were both intriguers--both dissatisfied, the one
desirous of love, the other of power.

Be that as it may, a feeling of disgust for Rome then took root in the
king's heart, and nothing could afterwards eradicate it. He
immediately made every exertion to attract Erasmus to London. Indeed,
if Henry separated from the pope, his old friends, the humanists, must
be his auxiliaries, and not the heretical doctors. But Erasmus, in a
letter dated 1st June, alleged the weak state of his health, the
robbers who infested the roads, the wars and rumours of wars then
afloat. "Our destiny leads us," he said; "let us yield to it."[807] It
is a fortunate thing for England that Erasmus was not its reformer.

  [807] Fatis agimur, fatis oedendum. Erasm. Epp. p. 1032.

Wolsey noted this movement of his master's, and resolved to make a
strenuous effort to reconcile Clement and Henry; his own safety was at
stake. He wrote to the pope, to Campeggio, to Da Casale, to all Italy.
He declared that if he was ruined, the popedom would be ruined too, so
far at least as England was concerned: "I would obtain the _decretal_
bull with my own blood, if possible,"[808] he added. "Assure the holy
father on my life that no mortal eye shall see it." Finally, he
ordered the chief-almoner to write to Gardiner: "If Campeggio does not
come, _you shall never return_ to England;"[809] an infallible means
of stimulating the secretary's zeal.

  [808] Ut vel proprio sanguine id vellemus posse a S. D. N. impetrare.
  Burnet, Records, ii. p. 19.

  [809] Neither should Gardiner ever return. Strype, i. p. 167.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT GRANTS ALL THE BULLS.]

This was the last effort of Henry VIII. Bourbon and the Prince of
Orange had not employed more zeal a year before in scaling the walls
of Rome. Wolsey's fire had inflamed his agents; they argued,
entreated, stormed, and threatened. The alarmed cardinals and
theologians, assembling at the pope's call, discussed the matter,
mixing political interests with the affairs of the church.[810] At
last they understood what Wolsey now communicated to them. "Henry is
the most energetic defender of the faith," they said. "It is only by
acceding to his demand that we can preserve the kingdom of England to
the popedom. The army of Charles is in full flight, and that of
Francis triumphs." The last of these arguments decided the question;
the pope suddenly felt a great sympathy for Wolsey and for the English
Church; the emperor was beaten; therefore he was wrong. Clement
granted everything.

  [810] Negotia ecclesiastica politicis rationibus interpolantes. Sand.
  p. 27.

First, Campeggio was desired to go to London. The pontiff knew that he
might reckon on his intelligence and inflexible adhesion to the
interests of the hierarchy; even the cardinal's gout was of use, for
it might help to innumerable delays. Next, on the 8th of June, the
pope, then at Viterbo, gave a new commission, by which he conferred on
Wolsey and Campeggio the power to declare null and void the marriage
between Henry and Catherine, with liberty for the king and queen to
form new matrimonial ties.[811] A few days later he signed the famous
_decretal_ by which he himself annulled the marriage between Henry and
Catherine; but instead of intrusting it to Gardiner, he gave it to
Campeggio, with orders not to let it go out of his hands. Clement was
not sure of the course of events: if Charles should decidedly lose his
power, the bull would be published in the face of Christendom; if he
should recover it, the bull would be burnt.[812] In fact the flames
did actually consume some time afterwards this decree which Clement
had wetted with his tears as he put his name to it. Finally, on the
23rd of July, the pope signed a valid _engagement_, by which he
declared beforehand that all retractation of these acts should be
_null and void_.[813] Campeggio and Gardiner departed. Charles's
defeat was as complete at Rome as at Naples; the justice of his cause
had vanished with his army.

  [811] Ad alia vota commigrandi. Herbert, p. 262.

  [812] State Papers, vol. vii. p. 78. Dr. Lingard acknowledges the
  existence of this bull and the order to burn it.

  [813] Si (quod absit) aliquid contra præmissa faciamus, illud pro
  casso, irrito, inani et vacuo omnino haberi volumus. (Herbert, p.
  250.) If (which, however, let it not happen) we should do anything
  contrary to this despatch, we wish it to be regarded as useless,
  invalid, worthless, and altogether void.

[Sidenote: JOY IN ENGLAND.]

Nothing, therefore, was wanting to Henry's desires. He had Campeggio,
the commission, the decretal bull of divorce signed by the pope, and
the engagement giving an irrevocable value to all these acts. Wolsey
was conqueror,--the conqueror of Clement!... He had often wished to
mount the restive courser of the popedom and to guide it at his will,
but each time the unruly steed had thrown him from the saddle. Now he
was firm in his seat, and held the horse in hand. Thanks to Charles's
reverses, he was master at Rome. The popedom, whether it was pleased
or not, must take the road he had chosen, and before which it had so
long recoiled. The king's joy was unbounded, and equalled only by
Wolsey's. The cardinal, in the fulness of his heart, wishing to show
his gratitude to the officers of the Roman court, made them presents
of carpets, horses, and vessels of gold.[814] All near Henry felt the
effects of his good humour. Anne smiled; the court indulged in
amusements; the _great affair_ was about to be accomplished; the New
Testament to be delivered to the flames. The union between England and
the popedom appeared confirmed for ever, and the victory which Rome
seemed about to gain in the British isles might secure her triumph in
the west. Vain omens! far different were the events in the womb of the
future.

  [814] Num illi, aulæa, vas aureum aut equi maxime probentur. Burnet,
  Records, i. p. xv.




BOOK XX.

THE TWO DIVORCES.




CHAPTER I.

     Progress of the Reformation--The two Divorces--Entreaties to
     Anne Boleyn--The Letters in the Vatican--Henry to
     Anne--Henry's Second Letter--Third--Fourth--Wolsey's
     Alarm--His fruitless Proceedings--He turns--The Sweating
     Sickness--Henry's Fears--New Letters to Anne--Anne falls
     sick; her Peace--Henry writes to her--Wolsey's
     Terror--Campeggio does not arrive--All dissemble at Court.


While England seemed binding herself to the court of Rome, the general
course of the church and of the world gave stronger presage every day
of the approaching emancipation of Christendom. The respect which for
so many centuries had hedged in the Roman Pontiff was everywhere
shaken; the Reform, already firmly established in several states of
Germany and Switzerland, was extending in France, the Low Countries,
and Hungary, and beginning in Sweden, Denmark, and Scotland. The South
of Europe appeared indeed submissive to the Romish church; but Spain,
at heart, cared little for the pontifical infallibility; and even
Italy began to inquire whether the papal dominion was not an obstacle
to her prosperity. England, notwithstanding appearances, was also
going to throw off the yoke of the bishops of the Tiber, and many
faithful voices might already be heard demanding that the word of God
should be acknowledged the supreme authority in the church.

[Sidenote: TWO SORTS OF TEACHING.]

The conquest of Christian Britain by the papacy occupied all the
seventh century, as we have seen. The sixteenth was the counterpart of
the seventh. The struggle which England then had to sustain, in order
to free herself from the power that had enslaved her during nine
hundred years, was full of sudden changes; like those of the times of
Augustine and Oswy. This struggle indeed took place in each of the
countries where the church was reformed; but nowhere can it be traced
in all its diverse phases so distinctly as in Great Britain. The
positive work of the Reformation--that which consisted in recovering
the truth and life so long lost--was nearly the same everywhere; but
as regards the negative work--the struggle with the popedom--we might
almost say that other nations committed to England the task by which
they were all to profit. An unenlightened piety may perhaps look upon
the relations of the court of London with the court of Rome, at the
period of the Reformation, as void of interest to the faith; but
history will not think the same. It has been too often forgotten that
the main point in this contest was not the divorce (which was only the
occasion), but the contest itself and its important consequences. The
divorce of Henry Tudor and Catherine of Aragon is a secondary event;
but the divorce of England and the popedom is a primary event, one of
the great evolutions of history, a creative act (so to speak) which
still exercises a normal influence over the destinies of mankind. And
accordingly everything connected with it is full of instruction for
us. Already a great number of pious men had attached themselves to the
authority of God; but the king, and with him that part of the nation,
strangers to the evangelical faith, clung to Rome, which Henry had so
valiantly defended. The word of God had spiritually separated England
from the papacy; the _great matter_ separated it materially. There is
a close relationship between these two divorces, which gives extreme
importance to the process between Henry and Catherine. When a great
revolution is to be effected in the bosom of a people (we have the
Reformation particularly in view), God instructs the minority by the
Holy Scriptures, and the majority by the dispensations of the divine
government. Facts undertake to push forward those whom the more
spiritual voice of the word leaves behind. England, profiting by this
great teaching of facts, has thought it her duty ever since to avoid
all contact with a power that had deceived her; she has thought that
popery could not have the dominion over a people without infringing on
its vitality, and that it was only by emancipating themselves from
this priestly dictatorship that modern nations could advance safely in
the paths of liberty, order, and greatness.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S HESITATION.]

For more than a year, as Henry's complaints testify, Anne continued
deaf to his homage. The despairing king saw that he must set other
springs to work, and taking Lord Rochford aside, he unfolded his plans
to him. The ambitious father promised to do all in his power to
influence his daughter. "The divorce is a settled thing," he said to
her; "you have no control over it. The only question is, whether it
shall be you or another who shall give an heir to the crown. Bear in
mind that terrible revolutions threaten England, if the king has no
son." Thus did every thing combine to weaken Anne's resolution. The
voice of her father, the interests of her country, the king's love,
and doubtless some secret ambition, influenced her to grasp the
proffered sceptre. These thoughts haunted her in society, in solitude,
and even in her dreams. At one time she imagined herself on the
throne, distributing to the people her charities and the word of God;
at another, in some obscure exile, leading a useless life, in tears
and ignominy. When, in the sports of her imagination, the crown of
England appeared all glittering before her, she at first rejected it;
but afterwards that regal ornament seemed so beautiful, and the power
it conferred so enviable, that she repelled it less energetically.
Anne still refused, however, to give the so ardently solicited assent.

Henry, vexed by her hesitation, wrote to her frequently, and almost
always in French. As the court of Rome makes use of these letters,
which are kept in the Vatican, to abuse the Reformation, we think it
our duty to quote them. The theft committed by a cardinal has
preserved them for us; and we shall see that, far from supporting the
calumnies that have been spread abroad, they tend, on the contrary, to
refute them. We are far from approving their contents as a whole; but
we cannot deny to the young lady, to whom they are addressed, the
possession of noble and generous sentiments.

Henry, unable to support the anguish caused by Anne's refusal, wrote
to her, as it is generally supposed, in May 1528:[815]

    "By revolving in my mind the contents of your last letters, I
    have put myself into great agony, not knowing how to
    interpret them, whether to my disadvantage, as I understand
    some passages, or not, as I conclude from others. I beseech
    you earnestly to let me know your real mind as to the love
    between us two. It is needful for me to obtain this answer of
    you, having been for a whole year wounded with the dart of
    love, and not yet assured whether I shall succeed in finding
    a place in your heart and affection. This uncertainty has
    hindered me of late from declaring you my mistress, lest it
    should prove that you only entertain for me an ordinary
    regard. But if you please to do the duty of a true and loyal
    mistress, I promise you that not only the name shall be given
    to you, but also that I will take you for my mistress,
    casting off all others that are in competition with you, out
    of my thoughts and affection, and serving you only. I beg you
    to give an entire answer to this my rude letter, that I may
    know on what and how far I may depend. But if it does not
    please you to answer me in writing, let me know some place
    where I may have it by word of mouth, and I will go thither
    with all my heart. No more for fear of tiring you. Written by
    the hand of him who would willingly remain yours,

    "H. REX."

  [815] Vatican Letters. Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 114. The date in the
  text is that assigned by the editor; we are inclined to place it
  somewhat earlier.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S SECOND LETTER.]

Such were the affectionate, and we may add (if we think of the time
and the man) the respectful terms employed by Henry in writing to Anne
Boleyn. The latter, without making any promises, betrayed some little
affection for the king, and added to her reply an emblematical jewel,
representing "a solitary damsel in a boat tossed by the tempest,"
wishing thus to make the prince understand the dangers to which his
love exposed her. Henry was ravished and immediately replied:--

    "For a present so valuable, that nothing could be more
    (considering the whole of it,) I return you my most hearty
    thanks, not only on account of the costly diamond, and the
    ship in which the solitary damsel is tossed about, but
    chiefly for the fine interpretation, and the too humble
    submission which your goodness hath made to me. Your favour I
    will always seek to preserve, and this is my firm intention
    and hope, according to the matter, _aut illic aut nullibi_.

    "The demonstrations of your affections are such, the fine
    thoughts of your letter so cordially expressed, that they
    oblige me for ever to honour, love, and serve you sincerely.
    I beseech you to continue in the same firm and constant
    purpose, and assuring you that, on my part, I will not only
    make you a suitable return, but outdo you, so great is the
    loyalty of the heart that desires to please you. I desire,
    also, that if, at any time before this, I have in any way
    offended you, that you would give me the same absolution that
    you ask, assuring you, that hereafter my heart shall be
    dedicated to you alone. I wish my person were so too. God can
    do it, if he pleases, _to whom I pray once a-day_ for that
    end, hoping that at length _my prayers will be heard_. I wish
    the time may be short, but I shall think it long till we see
    one another. Written by the hand of that secretary, who in
    heart, body, and will, is

    "Your loyal and most faithful Servant,

    "H. T. REX."[816]

  [816] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 115. After the signature comes the
  following device:

  _Nulle autre que [Illustration: initials AB inside heart shape] ne
                       cherche H. T._


       *       *       *       *       *


[Sidenote: HENRY'S THIRD AND FOURTH LETTERS.]

Henry was a passionate lover, and history is not called upon to
vindicate that cruel prince; but in the preceding letter we cannot
discover the language of a seducer. It is impossible to imagine the
king praying to God _once a-day_, for anything but a lawful union.
These daily prayers seem to present the matter in a different light
from that which Romanist writers have imagined.

Henry thought himself more advanced than he really was. Anne then
shrank back; embarrassed by the position she held at court, she begged
for one less elevated. The king submitted, although very vexed at
first:

    "Nevertheless that it belongeth not to a gentleman," he wrote
    to her, "to put his _mistress_ in the situation of a
    _servant_, yet, by following your wishes, I would willingly
    concede it, if by that means you are less uncomfortable in
    the place you shall choose than in that where you have been
    placed by me. I thank you most cordially that you are pleased
    still to bear me in your remembrance.

    "H. T."

Anne, having retired in May to Hever castle, her father's residence,
the king wrote to her as follows:--

    "My Mistress and my Friend,

    "My heart and I surrender ourselves into your hands, and we
    supplicate to be commended to your good graces, and that by
    absence your affections may not be diminished to us. For that
    would be to augment our pain, which would be a great pity,
    since absence gives enough, and more than I ever thought
    could be felt. This brings to my mind a fact in astronomy,
    which is, that the longer the days are, the farther off is
    the sun, and yet the more scorching is his heat. Thus is it
    with our love; absence has placed distance between us,
    nevertheless fervour increases, at least on my part. I hope
    the same from you, assuring you that in my case the anguish
    of absence is so great that it would be intolerable were it
    not for the firm hope I have of your indissoluble affection
    towards me. In order to remind you of it, and because I
    cannot in person be in your presence, I send you the thing
    which comes nearest that is possible, that is to say, my
    picture, and the whole device, which you already know
    of,[817] set in bracelets; wishing myself in their place when
    it pleases you. This is from the hand of "Your Servant and
    Friend,

    "H. T. REX."

  [817] Doubtless the _aut illic aut nullibi_. For this letter see the
  Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 346.

[Sidenote: ANNE GIVES HER CONSENT.]

Pressed by her father, her uncles, and by Henry, Anne's firmness was
shaken. That crown, rejected by Renée and by Margaret, dazzled the
young Englishwoman; every day she found some new charm in it; and
gradually familiarizing herself with her new future, she said at last:
"If the king becomes free, I shall be willing to marry him." This was
a great fault; but Henry was at the height of joy.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY STRIVES TO DISSUADE HENRY.]

The courtiers watched with observant eyes these developments of the
king's affection, and were already preparing the homage which they
proposed to lay at Anne Boleyn's feet. But there was one man at court
whom Henry's resolution filled with sorrow; this was Wolsey. He had
been the first to suggest to the king the idea of separating from
Catherine; but if Anne is to succeed her, there must be no divorce. He
had first alienated Catherine's party; he was now going to irritate
that of the Boleyns; accordingly he began to fear that whatever might
be the issue of this affair, it would cause his ruin. He took frequent
walks in his park at Hampton Court, accompanied by the French
ambassador, the confidant of his sorrows: "I would willingly lose one
of my fingers," he said, "if I could only have two hours' conversation
with the king of France." At another time, fancying all England was
pursuing him, he said with alarm, "The king my master and all his
subjects will cry murder against me; they will fall upon me more
fiercely than on a Turk, and all Christendom will rise against me!"
The next day Wolsey, to gain the French ambassador, gave him a long
history of what he had done for France _against the wishes of all
England_: "I need much dexterity in my affairs," he added, "and must
use a terrible _alchymy_."[818] But alchymy could not save him.
Rarely has so much anguish been veiled beneath such grandeur. Du
Bellay was moved with pity at the sight of the unhappy man's
sufferings. "When he gives way," he wrote to Montmorency, "it lasts a
day together;--he is continually sighing.--You have never seen a man
in such anguish of mind."[819]

  [818] Une terrible Alquemie. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 157.

  [819] 26th April, 1528. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 93.

In truth Wolsey's reason was tottering. That fatal idea of the divorce
was the cause of all his woes, and to be able to recall it, he would
have given, not a _finger_ only, but an arm, and perhaps more. It was
too late; Henry had started his car down the steep, and whoever
attempted to stop it would have been crushed beneath its wheels.
However, the cardinal tried to obtain something. Francis I had
intercepted a letter from Charles V in which the emperor spoke of the
divorce as likely to raise the English nation in revolt. Wolsey caused
this letter to be read to the king, in the hope that it would excite
his serious apprehensions; but Henry only _frowned_, and Du Bellay, to
whom the monarch ascribed the report on these troubles foreboded by
Charles, received "a gentle lash."[820] This was the sole-result of
the manoeuvre.

  [820] _Quelque petit coup de fouet._ 24th May, 1528. Du Bellay to
  Montmorency. Ibid. p. 102.

Wolsey now resolved to broach this important subject in a
straightforward manner. The step might prove his ruin; but if he
succeeded he was saved and the popedom with him. Accordingly one day
(shortly before the sweating sickness broke out, says Du Bellay,
probably in June 1528) Wolsey openly prayed the king to renounce his
design; his own reputation, he told him, the prosperity of England,
the peace of Europe, the safety of the church,--all required it;
besides the pope would never grant the divorce. While the cardinal was
speaking, Henry's face grew black; and before he had concluded the
king's anger broke out. "The king used terrible words," said Du
Bellay. He would have given a thousand Wolseys for one Anne Boleyn.
"No other than God shall take her from me," was his most decided
resolution.

Wolsey, now no longer doubting of his disgrace, began to take his
measures accordingly. He commenced building in several places, in
order to win the affections of the common people; he took great care
of his bishoprics, in order that they might ensure him an easy
retreat; he was affable to the courtiers; and thus covered the earth
with flowers to deaden his fall. Then he would sigh as if he were
disgusted with honours; and would celebrate the charms of
solitude.[821] He did more than this. Seeing plainly that the best
way of recovering the king's favour would be to conciliate Anne
Boleyn, he made her the most handsome presents,[822] and assured her
that all his efforts would now be directed to raise her to the throne
of England. Anne believing these declarations replied, that she would
help him in her turn, "As long as any breath was in her body."[823]
Even Henry had no doubt that the cardinal had profited by his lesson.

  [821] 20th August, 1528. Ibid. p. 165.

  [822] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150.

  [823] Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE SWEATING SICKNESS.]

Thus were all parties restless and uneasy--Henry desiring to marry
Lady Anne, the courtiers to get rid of Wolsey, and the latter to
remain in power--when a serious event appeared to put every one in
harmony with his neighbour. About the middle of June, the terrible
sweating sickness (_sudor anglicus_) broke out in England. The
citizens of London, "thick as flies," said Du Bellay,[824] suddenly
feeling pains in the head and heart, rushed from the streets or shops
to their chambers, began to sweat, and took to their beds. The disease
made frightful and rapid progress, a burning heat preyed on their
limbs; if they chanced to uncover themselves, the perspiration ceased,
delirium came on, and in four hours the victim was dead and "stiff as
a wall,"[825] says the French ambassador. Every family was in
mourning. Sir Thomas More, kneeling by his daughter's bedside, burst
into tears, and called upon God to save his beloved Margaret.[826]
Wolsey, who was at Hampton Court, suspecting nothing amiss, arrived in
London as usual to preside in the court of Chancery; but he ordered
his horses to be saddled again immediately and rode back. In four
days, 2000 persons died in London.

  [824] Dru comme mouches. Le Grand. Preuves, p. 138.

  [825] Raide comme un pan de mur. Ibid.

  [826] More's Life, p. 136.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S TERROR.]

The court was at first safe from the contagion; but on the fourth day
one of Anne Boleyn's ladies was attacked; it was as if a thunderbolt
had fallen on the palace. The king removed with all haste, and staid
at a place twelve miles off, for he was not prepared to die. He
ordered Anne to return to her father, invited the queen to join him,
and took up his residence at Waltham. His real conscience awoke only
in the presence of death. Four of his attendants and a friar, Anne's
confessor, as it would appear,[827] falling ill, the king departed for
Hunsdon. He had been there two days only when Powis, Carew, Carton,
and others of his court, were carried off in two or three hours. Henry
had met an enemy whom he could not vanquish. He quitted the place
attacked by the disease; he removed to another quarter; and when the
sickness laid hold of any of his attendants in his new retreat, he
again left that for a new asylum. Terror froze his blood; he wandered
about pursued by that terrible scythe whose sweep might perhaps reach
him; he cut off all communication, even with his servants; shut
himself up in a room at the top of an isolated tower; ate all alone,
and would see no one but his physician;[828] he prayed, fasted,
confessed, became reconciled with the queen; took the sacrament every
Sunday and feast day; received _his Maker_,[829] to use the words of a
gentleman of his chamber; and the queen and Wolsey did the same. Nor
was that all: his councillor, Sir Brian Tuke, was sick in Essex; but
that mattered not; the king ordered him to come to him, even in his
litter; and on the 20th of June, Henry after hearing three masses (he
had never done so much before in one day) said to Tuke: "I want you to
write _my will_." He was not the only one who took that precaution.
"There were _a hundred thousand_ made," says Du Bellay.

  [827] Votre père maître Jesonère est tombé malade. Henry to Anne.
  Pamphleteer. No. 42, p. 347.

  [828] With his physician in a chamber within a tower to sup apart.
  State Papers, vol. i, p. 296.

  [829] Ibid. p. 290.

During this time, Anne in her retirement at Hever was calm and
collected; she prayed much, particularly for the king and for
Wolsey.[830] But Henry, far less submissive, was very anxious. "The
uneasiness my doubts about your health gave me," he wrote to her,
"disturbed and frightened me exceedingly; but now, since you have as
yet felt nothing, I hope it is with you as it is with us.... I beg
you, my entirely beloved, not to frighten yourself, or be too uneasy
at our absence, for wherever I am, I am yours. And yet we must
sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for whoever will struggle against
fate, is generally but so much the farther from gaining his end.
Wherefore, comfort yourself and take courage, and make this misfortune
as easy to you as you can."[831]

  [830] I thank our Lord that them that I desired and prayed for are
  escaped, and that is the king's grace and you. Anne to Wolsey.
  Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150.

  [831] Ibid. No. 42, p. 347.

As he received no news, Henry's uneasiness increased; he sent to Anne
a messenger and a letter: "to acquit myself of the duty of a true
servant, I send you this letter, beseeching you to apprize me of your
welfare, which I pray may continue as long as I desire mine own."

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S TERRORS.]

Henry's fears were well founded; the malady became more severe; in
four hours eighteen persons died at the archbishop of Canterbury's;
Anne Boleyn herself and her brother also caught the infection. The
king was exceedingly agitated; Anne alone appeared calm; the strength
of her character raised her above exaggerated fears; but her enemies
ascribed her calmness to other motives. "Her ambition is stronger than
death," they said. "The king, queen, and cardinal tremble for their
lives, but she ... she would die content if she died a queen." Henry
once more changed his residence. All the gentlemen of his
privy-chamber were attacked with one exception; "he remained alone,
keeping himself apart," says Du Bellay, and confessed every day. He
wrote again to Anne, sending her his physician, Dr. Butts:[832] "The
most displeasing news that could occur came to me suddenly at night.
On three accounts I must lament it. One, to hear of the illness of my
mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, and whose health I
desire as I do my own. I would willingly bear half of what you suffer
to cure you. The second, from the fear that I shall have to endure my
wearisome absence much longer, which has hitherto given me all the
vexation that was possible; and when gloomy thoughts filled my mind,
then I pray God to remove far from me such troublesome and rebellious
ideas. The third, because my physician, in whom I have most
confidence, is absent. Yet, from the want of him, I send you my
second, and hope that he will soon make you well. I shall then love
him more than ever. I beseech you to be guided by his advice in your
illness. By your doing this, I hope soon to see you again, which will
be to me a greater comfort than all the precious jewels in the world."

  [832] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 120.

The pestilence soon broke out with more violence around Henry; he fled
in alarm to Hatfield, taking with him only the gentleman of his
chamber; he next quitted this place for Tittenhanger, a house
belonging to Wolsey, whence he commanded general processions
throughout the kingdom in order to avert this scourge of God.[833] At
the same time he wrote to Wolsey: "As soon as any one falls ill in the
place where you are, fly to another; and go thus from place to place."
The poor cardinal was still more alarmed than Henry. As soon as he
felt the slightest perspiration, he fancied himself a dead man. "I
entreat your highness," he wrote trembling to the king on the 5th of
July, "to show yourself full of pity for my soul; these are perhaps
the last words I shall address to you ... the whole world will see by
my last testament that you have not bestowed your favour upon an
ungrateful man." The king, perceiving that Wolsey's mind was affected,
bade him "put apart fear and fantasies,"[834] and wear a cheerful
humour in the midst of death.

  [833] State Papers, i, p. 308.

  [834] State Papers, i, p. 314.

[Sidenote: DISSIMULATION AT COURT.]

At last the sickness began to diminish, and immediately the desire to
see Anne revived in Henry's bosom. On the 18th of August she
re-appeared at court, and all the king's thoughts were now bent on the
divorce.

But this business seemed to proceed in inverse ratio to his desires.
There was no news of Campeggio; was he lost in the Alps or at sea? Did
his gout detain him in some village, or was the announcement of his
departure only a feint? Anne Boleyn herself was uneasy, for she
attached great importance to Campeggio's coming. If the church
annulled the king's first marriage, Anne seeing the principal obstacle
removed, thought she might accept Henry's hand. She therefore wrote to
Wolsey: "I long to hear from you news of the legate, for I do hope
(an' they come from you) they shall be very good." The king added in a
postscript: "The not hearing of the legate's arrival in France causeth
us somewhat to muse. Notwithstanding we trust by your diligence and
vigilancy (with the assistance of Almighty God) shortly to be eased
out of that trouble."[835]

  [835] Pamphleteer, No. 48, p. 149.

But still there was no news. While waiting for the long desired
ambassador, every one at the English court played his part as well as
he could. Anne, whether from conscience, prudence, or modesty, refused
the honours which the king would have showered upon her, and never
approached Catherine but with marks of profound respect. Wolsey had
the look of desiring the divorce, while in reality he dreaded it, as
fated to cause his ruin and that of the popedom. Henry strove to
conceal the motives which impelled him to separate from the queen; to
the bishops, he spoke of his _conscience_, to the nobility _of an
heir_, and to all of the sad obligation which compelled him to put
away so justly beloved a princess. In the meanwhile, he seemed to live
on the best terms with her, from what Du Bellay says.[836] But
Catherine was the one who best dissembled her sentiments; she lived
with the king as during their happiest days, treated Anne with every
kindness, adopted an elegant costume, encouraged music and dancing in
her apartments, often appeared in public, and seemed desirous of
captivating by her gracious smiles the good-will of England. This was
a mournful comedy, destined to end in tragedy full of tears and agony.

  [836] 16th October 1528. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves,
  p. 170.




CHAPTER II.

     Coverdale and Inspiration--He undertakes to translate the
     Scriptures--His Joy and Spiritual Songs--Tyball and the
     Laymen--Coverdale preaches at Bumpstead--Revival at
     Colchester--Incomplete Societies and the New
     Testament--Persecution--Monmouth arrested and released.


[Sidenote: COVERDALE AND INSPIRATION.]

While these scenes were acting in the royal palaces, far different
discussions were going on among the people. After having dwelt for
some time on the agitations of the court, we gladly return to the
lowly disciples of the divine word. The Reformation of England (and
this is its characteristic) brings before us by turns the king upon
his throne, and the laborious artisan in his humble cottage; and
between these two extremes we meet with the doctor in his college, and
the priest in his pulpit.

[Sidenote: MILES COVERDALE.]

Among the young men trained at Cambridge under Barnes's instruction,
and who had aided him at the time of his trial, was Miles Coverdale,
afterwards bishop of Exeter, a man distinguished by his zeal for the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. Some time after the prior's fall, on Easter
Eve, 1527, Coverdale and Cromwell met at the house of Sir Thomas More,
when the former exhorted the Cambridge student to apply himself to the
study of sacred learning.[837] The lapse of his unhappy master had
alarmed Coverdale, and he felt the necessity of withdrawing from that
outward activity which had proved so fatal to Barnes. He therefore
turned to the Scriptures, read them again and again, and perceived,
like Tyndale, that the reformation of the church must be effected by
the word of God. The inspiration of that word, the only foundation of
its sovereign authority, had struck Coverdale. "Wherever the Scripture
is known it reformeth all things. And why? Because it is given _by the
inspiration of God_."[838] This fundamental principle of the
Reformation in England must, in every age, be that of the church.

  [837] Coverdale's Remains (Parker Society), p. 490. The authority for
  this statement is a letter from Coverdale to Cromwell, which the
  editor of the "remains" assigns to the year 1527. Mr. Anderson (Annals
  of the Bible, i. p. 239), places it four years later, in 1531. Foxe
  asserts that Cromwell was at the siege of Rome in May 1527, on the
  authority of Cranmer and Cromwell himself (Acts and Mon. v. p. 365).
  If so, the letter cannot belong to that year; but 1531 is improbable.
  I am inclined to think it was written in 1528; but any way there is a
  difficulty with the date.

  [838] Ibid. p. 10.

Coverdale found happiness in his studies: "Now," he said, "I begin to
taste of Holy Scriptures! Now, honour be to God! I am set to the most
sweet smell of holy letters."[839] He did not stop there, but thought
it his duty to attempt in England the work which Tyndale was
prosecuting in Germany. The Bible was so important in the eyes of
these Christians, that two translations were undertaken
simultaneously. "Why should other nations," said Coverdale, "be more
plenteously provided for with the Scriptures in their mother-tongue
than we?"[840]--"Beware of translating the Bible!" exclaimed the
partisans of the schoolmen; "your labour will only make divisions in
the faith and in the people of God."[841]--"God has now given his
church," replied Coverdale, "the gifts of translating and of printing;
we must improve them." And if any friends spoke of Tyndale's
translation, he answered: "Do not you know that when many are starting
together, every one doth his best to be nighest the mark?"[842]--"But
Scripture ought to exist in Latin only," objected the priests.--"No,"
replied Coverdale again, "the Holy Ghost is as much the author of it
in the Hebrew, Greek, French, Dutch, and English, as in Latin.... The
word of God is of like authority, in what language soever the Holy
Ghost speaketh it."[843] This does not mean that translations of Holy
Scripture are inspired, but that the word of God, faithfully
translated, always possesses a divine authority.

  [839] Coverdale's Remains, p. 490.

  [840] Ibid. p. 12.

  [841] Ibid.

  [842] Ibid. p. 14.

  [843] Ibid. p. 26.

Coverdale determined therefore to translate the Bible, and, to procure
the necessary books, he wrote to Cromwell, who, during his travels,
had made a collection of these precious writings. "Nothing in the
world I desire but books," he wrote; "like Jacob, you have drunk of
the dew of heaven.... I ask to drink of your waters."[844] Cromwell
did not refuse Coverdale his treasures. "Since the Holy Ghost moves
you to bear the cost of this work," exclaimed the latter, "God gives
me boldness to labour in the same."[845] He commenced without delay,
saying: "Whosoever believeth not the Scripture, believeth not Christ;
and whoso refuseth it, refuseth God also."[846] Such were the
foundations of the reformed church in England.

  [844] De tuo ipso torrente maxime potare exopto. Ibid. p. 491.

  [845] Ibid. p. 10.

  [846] Ibid. p. 19.

Coverdale did not undertake to translate the Scriptures as a mere
literary task: the Spirit which had inspired him spoke to his heart;
and tasting their life-giving promises, he expressed his happiness in
pious songs:--

    Be glad now, all ye christen men,
      And let us rejoyce unfaynedly.
    The kindnesse cannot be written with penne,
      That we have receaved of God's mercy;
    Whose love towarde us hath never ende:
    He hath done for us as a frende;
      Now let us thanke him hartely.

    These lovynge words he spake to me.
      I wyll delyver thy soule from payne;
    I am desposed to do for thee,
      And to myne owne selfe thee to retayne.
    Thou shalt be with me, for thou art myne;
    And I with thee, for I am thyne;
      Such is my love, I cannot layne.

    They wyll shed out my precyous bloude,
      And take away my lyfe also;
    Which I wyll suffre all for thy good:
      Beleve this sure, where ever thou go.
    For I will yet ryse up agayne;
    Thy synnes I beare, though it be payne,
      To make thee safe and free from wo.

[Sidenote: TYBALL AT BUMPSTEAD.]

Coverdale did not remain long in the solitude he desired. The study of
the Bible, which had attracted him to it, soon drew him out of it. A
revival was going on in Essex; John Tyball, an inhabitant of
Bumpstead, having learnt to find in Jesus Christ the _true bread from
heaven_, did not stop there. One day as he was reading the first
epistle to the Corinthians, these words: "eat of this _bread_," and
"drink of this _cup_," repeated four times within a few verses,
convinced him that there was no transubstantiation. "A priest has no
power to create the body of the Lord," said he, "Christ truly is
present in the Eucharist, but he is there only _for him that
believeth_, and by a spiritual presence and action only." Tyball,
disgusted with the Romish clergy and worship, and convinced that
Christians are called to a universal priesthood, soon thought that men
could do without a special ministry, and without denying the offices
mentioned in Scripture, as some Christians have done since, he
attached no importance to them. "Priesthood is not necessary,[847]" he
said: "every layman may administer the sacraments as well as a
priest." The minister of Bumpstead, one Richard Foxe, and next a
greyfriar of Colchester named Meadow, were successively converted by
Tyball's energetic preaching.

  [847] Strype, Records, i. p. 51.

[Sidenote: CONVERSION OF TOPLEY AND PYKAS.]

Coverdale, who was living not far from these parts, having heard speak
of this religious revival, came to Bumpstead, and went into the
pulpit in the spring of 1528, to proclaim the treasures contained in
Scripture. Among his hearers was an Augustine monk, named Topley, who
was supplying Foxe's place during his absence. This monk, while
staying at the parsonage, had found a copy of Wickliffe's _Wicket_,
which he read eagerly. His conscience was wounded by it, and all
seemed to totter about him.[848] He had gone to church full of doubt,
and after divine service he waited upon the preacher, exclaiming: "O
my sins, my sins!" "Confess yourself to God," said Coverdale, "and not
to a priest. God accepteth the confession which cometh from the heart,
and blotteth out all your sins."[849] The monk believed in the
forgiveness of God, and became a zealous evangelist for the
surrounding country.

  [848] I felt in my conscience a great wavering. Anderson's Annals of
  the Bible, vol. i. p. 185.

  [849] Coverdale's Remains, p. 481.

The divine word had hardly lighted one torch, before that kindled
another. At Colchester, in the same county, a worthy man named Pykas,
had received a copy of the Epistles of Saint Paul from his mother,
with this advice: "My son, live according to these writings, and not
according to the teaching of the clergy." Some time after, Pykas
having bought a New Testament, and "read it thoroughly many
times,"[850] a total change took place in him. "We must be baptized by
the Holy Ghost," he said, and these words passed like a breath of life
over his simple-minded hearers. One day, Pykas having learnt that
Bilney, the first of the Cambridge doctors who had known the power of
God's word, was preaching at Ipswich, he proceeded thither, for he
never refused to listen to a priest, when that priest proclaimed the
truth. "O, what a sermon! how full of the Holy Ghost!" exclaimed
Pykas.

  [850] Strype, vol. i. ch. i. p. 121.

From that period meetings of the brothers in Christ (for thus they
were called) increased in number. They read the New Testament, and
each imparted to the others what he had received for the instruction
of all. One day when the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew had been
read, Pykas, who was sometimes wrong in the spiritual interpretation
of Scripture, remarked: "When the Lord declares that _not one stone of
the temple shall be left upon another_, he speaks of those haughty
priests who persecute those whom they call heretics, and who pretend
to be the temple of God. God will destroy them all." After protesting
against the priest, he protested against the host: "The real body of
Jesus Christ is in the Word," he said; "God is in the Word, the Word
is in God.[851] God and the Word cannot be separated. Christ is the
living Word that nourishes the soul." These humble preachers
increased. Even women knew the Epistles and Gospels by heart; Marion
Matthew, Dorothy Long, Catherine Swain, Alice Gardiner, and, above
all, Gyrling's wife, who had been in service with a priest lately
burnt for heresy, took part in these gospel meetings. And it was not
in cottages only that the glad tidings were then proclaimed; Bower
Hall, the residence of the squires of Bumpstead, was open to Foxe,
Topley, and Tyball, who often read the Holy Scriptures in the great
hall of the mansion, in the presence of the master and all their
household: a humble Reformation more real than that effected by Henry
VIII.

  [851] Ibid. p. 130.

[Sidenote: TWO FORMS OF THE CHURCH.]

There was, however, some diversity of opinion among these brethren.
"All who have begun to believe," said Tyball, Pykas, and others,
"ought to meet together to hear the word and increase in faith. We
pray in common ... and that constitutes a church." Coverdale, Bilney,
and Latimer willingly recognised these incomplete societies, in which
the members met simply as _disciples_; they believed them necessary at
a period when the church was forming. These societies (in the
reformers' views) proved that organization has not the priority in the
Christian church, as Rome maintains, and that this priority belongs to
the faith and the life. But this imperfect form they also regarded as
provisional. To prevent numerous dangers, it was necessary that this
society should be succeeded by another, the church of the New
Testament, with its elders or bishops, and deacons. The word, they
thought, rendered a ministry of the word necessary; and for its proper
exercise not only piety was required, but a knowledge of the sacred
languages, the gift of eloquence, its exercise and perfection.
However, there was no division among these Christians upon secondary
matters.

For some time the bishop of London watched this movement with
uneasiness. He caused Hacker to be arrested, who, for six years past,
had gone from house to house reading the Bible in London and Essex;
examined and threatened him, inquired carefully after the names of
those who had shown him hospitality; and the poor man in alarm had
given up about forty of his brethren. Sebastian Harris, priest of
Kensington, Forman, rector of All Hallows, John and William Pykas, and
many others, were summoned before the bishop. They were taken to
prison; they were led before the judges; they were put in the stocks;
they were tormented in a thousand ways. Their minds became confused;
their thoughts wandered; and many made the confessions required by
their persecutors.

[Sidenote: MONMOUTH ARRESTED.]

The adversaries of the gospel, proud of this success, now desired a
more glorious victory. If they could not reach Tyndale, had they not
in London the patron of his work, Monmouth, the most influential of
the merchants, and a follower of the true faith? The clergy had made
religion their business, and the Reformation restored it to the
people. Nothing offended the priests so much, as that laymen should
claim the right to believe without their intervention, and even to
propagate the faith. Sir Thomas More, one of the most amiable men of
the sixteenth century, participated in their hatred. He wrote to
Cochlæus: "Germany now daily bringeth forth monsters more deadly than
what Africa was wont to do;[852] but, alas! she is not alone. Numbers
of Englishmen, who would not a few years ago even hear Luther's name
mentioned, are now publishing his praises! England is now like the
sea, which swells and heaves before a great storm, without any wind
stirring it."[853] More felt particularly irritated, because the
boldness of the gospellers had succeeded to the timidity of the
Lollards. "The heretics," he said, "have put off hypocrisy, and put on
impudence." He therefore resolved to set his hand to the work.

  [852] More's Life, p. 82.

  [853] Ibid. p. 117.

On the 14th of May 1529, Monmouth was in his shop, when an usher came
and summoned him to appear before Sir J. Dauncies, one of the privy
council. The pious merchant obeyed, striving to persuade himself that
he was wanted on some matter of business; but in this he was deceived,
as he soon found out. "What letters and books have you lately received
from abroad?"[854] asked with some severity, Sir Thomas More, who,
with Sir William Kingston, was Sir John's colleague. "None," replied
Monmouth. "What aid have you given to any persons living on the
continent?"--"None, for these last three years. William Tyndale abode
with me six months," he continued, "and his life was what a good
priest's ought to be. I gave him ten pounds at the period of his
departure, but nothing since. Besides, he is not the only one I have
helped; the bishop of London's chaplain, for instance, has received of
me more than £50."--"What books have you in your possession?" The
merchant named the New Testament and some other works. "All these
books have lain more than two years on my table, and I never heard
that either priests, friars, or laymen learnt any great errors from
them."[855] More tossed his head. "It is a hard matter," he used to
say, "to put a dry stick in the fire without its burning, or to
nourish a snake in our bosom and not be stung by it.[856]--That is
enough," he continued, "we shall go and search your house." Not a
paper escaped their curiosity; but they found nothing to compromise
Monmouth; he was however sent to the Tower.

  [854] Strype's Records, p. 363.

  [855] Ibid. p. 365.

  [856] More's life, p. 116.

[Sidenote: HE IS INTERROGATED BY MORE.]

After some interval the merchant was again brought before his judges.
"You are accused," said More, "of having bought Martin Luther's
tracts; of maintaining those who are translating the Scriptures into
English; of subscribing to get the New Testament printed in English,
with or without glosses; of having imported it into the kingdom; and,
lastly, of having said that faith alone is sufficient to save a
man."[857]

  [857] Strype's Mem. i. p. 490.

There was matter enough to burn several men. Monmouth, feeling
convinced that Wolsey alone had power to deliver him, resolved to
apply to him. "What will become of my poor workmen in London and in
the country during my imprisonment?" he wrote to the cardinal. "They
must have their money every week; who will give it them?... Besides, I
make considerable sales in foreign countries, which bring large
returns to his majesty's customs.[858] If I remain in prison, this
commerce is stopped, and of course all the proceeds for the
exchequer." Wolsey, who was as much a statesman as a churchman, began
to melt; on the eve of a struggle with the pope and the emperor, he
feared, besides, to make the people discontented. Monmouth was
released from prison. As alderman, and then as sheriff of London, he
was faithful until death, and ordered in his last will that thirty
sermons should be preached by the most evangelical ministers in
England, "to make known the holy word of Jesus Christ."--"That is
better," he thought, "than founding masses." The Reformation showed,
in the sixteenth century, that great activity in commerce might be
allied to great piety.

  [858] Strype, Records, i. p. 367.




CHAPTER III.

     Political Changes--Fresh Instructions from the Pope to
     Campeggio--His delays--He unbosoms himself to Francis--A
     Prediction--Arrival of Campeggio--Wolsey's
     Uneasiness--Henry's Satisfaction--The Cardinal's
     Project--Campeggio's Reception--First Interview with the
     Queen and with the King--Useless Efforts to make Campeggio
     part with the Decretal--The Nuncio's Conscience--Public
     Opinion--Measures taken by the King--His Speech to the Lords
     and Aldermen--Festivities--Wolsey seeks French
     Support--Contrariety.


[Sidenote: THE POPE CHANGES.]

While these persecutions were agitating the fields and the capital of
England, all had changed in the ecclesiastical world, because all had
changed in the political. The pope, pressed by Henry VIII and
intimidated by the armies of Francis I, had granted the decretal and
despatched Campeggio. But, on a sudden, there was a new evolution; a
change of events brought a change of counsels. Doria had gone over to
the emperor; his fleet had restored abundance to Naples; the army of
Francis I, ravaged by famine and pestilence, had capitulated, and
Charles V, triumphant in Italy, had said proudly to the pope: "We are
determined to defend the queen of England against King Henry's
injustice."[859]

  [859] Cum Cæsar materteræ suæ causam contra injurias Henrici
  propugnaverit. Sanders, p. 28.

Charles having recovered his superiority, the affrighted pope opened
his eyes to the justice of Catherine's cause. "Send four messengers
after Campeggio," said he to his officers; "and let each take a
different road; bid them travel with all speed and deliver our
despatches to him."[860] They overtook the legate, who opened the
pope's letters. "In the first place," said Clement VII to him,
"protract your journey. In the second place, when you reach England,
use every endeavour to reconcile the king and queen. In the third
place, if you do not succeed, persuade the queen to take the veil. And
in the last place, if she refuses, do not pronounce any sentence
favourable to the divorce without a new and express order from me.
This is the essential: _Summum et maximum mandatum_." The ambassador
of the sovereign pontiff had a mission to do nothing. This instruction
is sometimes as effective as any.

  [860] Quatuor nuncios celerrimo cursu diversis itineribus ad Campegium
  misit. Ibid. et Herbert, p. 253.

Campeggio, the youngest of the cardinals, was the most intelligent
and the slowest; and this slowness caused his selection by the pope.
He understood his master. If Wolsey was Henry's spur to urge on
Campeggio, the latter was Clement's bridle to check Wolsey.[861] One
of the judges of the divorce was about to pull forwards, the other
backwards; thus the business stood a chance of not advancing at all,
which was just what the pope required.

  [861] Fuller, book v. p. 172.

The legate, very eager to relax his speed, spent three months on his
journey from Italy to England. He should have embarked for France on
the 23rd of July; but the end of August was approaching, and no one
knew in that country what had become of him.[862] At length they
learnt that he had reached Lyons on the 22nd of August. The English
ambassador in France sent him horses, carriages, plate, and money, in
order to hasten his progress; the legate complained of the _gout_, and
Gardiner found the greatest difficulty in getting him to move. Henry
wrote every day to Anne Boleyn, complaining of the slow progress of
the nuncio. "He arrived in Paris last Sunday or Monday," he says at
the beginning of September; "Monday next we shall hear of his arrival
in Calais, and then I shall obtain what I have so longed for, to God's
pleasure and both our comforts."[863]

  [862] State Papers, vii. p. 91, 92.

  [863] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 117.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S LETTER TO WOLSEY.]

At the same time, this impatient prince sent message after message to
accelerate the legate's rate of travelling.

Anne began to desire a future which surpassed all that her youthful
imagination had conceived, and her agitated heart expanded to the
breath of hope. She wrote to Wolsey:

     "This shall be to give unto your grace, as I am most bound,
     my humble thanks for the great pain and travail that your
     grace doth take in studying, by your wisdom and great
     diligence, how to bring to pass honourably the greatest
     wealth [well-being] that is possible to come to any creature
     living; and in especial remembering how wretched and
     unworthy I am in comparison to his highness.... Now, good my
     lord, your discretion may consider as yet how little it is
     in my power to recompense you but alonely [only] with my
     good will; the which I assure you, look what thing in this
     world I can imagine to do you pleasure in, you shall find me
     the gladdest woman in the world to do it."[864]

  [864] Ibid. p. 151.

[Sidenote: A CRUEL PROPHECY.]

But the impatience of the king of England and of Anne seemed as if it
would never be satisfied. Campeggio, on his way through Paris, told
Francis I that the divorce would never take place, and that he should
soon go to _Spain_ to see Charles V.... This was significative. "The
king of England ought to know," said the indignant Francis to the duke
of Suffolk, "that Campeggio is _imperialist_ at heart, and that his
mission in England will be a mere mockery."[865]

  [865] The cardinal intended not that your Grace's matter should take
  effect, but only to use dissimulation with your Grace, for he is
  entirely imperial. Suffolk to Henry, State Papers, vii. p. 183.

In truth, the Spanish and Roman factions tried every manoeuvre to
prevent a union they detested. Anne Boleyn, queen of England,
signified not only Catherine humbled, but Charles offended; the
clerical party awakened, perhaps destroyed, and the evangelical party
put in its place. The Romish faction found accomplices even in Anne's
own family. Her brother George's wife, a proud and passionate woman,
and a rigid Roman catholic, had sworn an implacable hatred against her
young sister. By this means wounds might be inflicted, even in the
domestic sanctuary, which would not be the less deep because they were
the work of her own kindred. One day we are told that Anne found in
her chamber a book of pretended prophecies, in which was a picture
representing a king, a queen shedding tears, and at their feet a young
lady headless. Anne turned away her eyes with disgust. She desired,
however, to know what this emblem signified, and officious friends
brought to her one of those pretended wise men, so numerous at all
times, who abuse the credulity of the ignorant by professing to
interpret such mysteries. "This prophetic picture," he said,
"represents the history of the king and his wife." Anne was not
credulous, but she understood what her enemies meant to insinuate, and
dismissed the mock interpreter without betraying any signs of fear;
then turning to her favourite attendant, Anne Saville, "Come hither,
Nan," said she, "look at this book of prophecies; this is the king,
this the queen wringing her hands and mourning, and this (putting her
finger on the bleeding body) is _myself_, with my head cut off."--The
young lady answered with a shudder: "If I thought it were true, I
would not myself have him were he an emperor."--"Tut, Nan," replied
Anne Boleyn with a sweet smile, "I think the book a bauble, and am
resolved to have him, that my issue may be royal, whatever may become
of me."[866] This story is based on good authority, and there were so
many predictions of this kind afloat that it is very possible one of
them might come true; people afterwards recollected only the
prophecies confirmed by the events. But, be that as it may, this
young lady, so severely chastised in after-days, found in her God an
abundant consolation.

  [866] Wyatt, p. 430.

[Sidenote: ARRIVAL OF CAMPEGGIO.]

At length Campeggio embarked at Calais on the 29th of September, and
unfortunately for him he had an excellent passage across the channel.
A storm to drive him back to the French coast would have suited him
admirably. But on the 1st of October he was at Canterbury, whence he
announced his arrival to the king. At this news, Henry forgot all the
delays which had so irritated him. "His majesty can never be
sufficiently grateful to your holiness for so great a favour," wrote
Wolsey to the pope; "but he will employ his riches, his kingdom, his
life even, and deserve the name of _Restorer of the Church_ as justly
as he has gained that of _Defender of the Faith_." This zeal alarmed
Campeggio, for the pope wrote to him that any proceeding which might
irritate Charles would inevitably cause the ruin of the church.[867]
The nuncio became more dilatory than ever, and although he reached
Canterbury on the 1st of October, he did not arrive at Dartford until
the 5th, thus taking four days for a journey of about thirty
miles.[868]

  [867] Sanga to Campeggio, from Viterbo, 27th September. Ranke,
  Deutsche Gesch. iii, p. 135.

  [868] State Papers, vii. p. 94, 95.

Meanwhile preparations were making to receive him in London. Wolsey,
feeling contempt for the poverty of the Roman cardinals, and very
uneasy about the equipage with which his colleague was likely to make
his entrance into the capital, sent a number of showy chests, rich
carpets, litters hung with drapery, and harnessed mules. On the other
hand Campeggio, whose secret mission was to keep in the back-ground,
and above all to do nothing, feared these banners, and trappings, and
all the parade of a triumphal entry. Alleging therefore an attack of
gout in order to escape from the pomps his colleague had prepared for
him, he quietly took a boat, and thus reached the palace of the bishop
of Bath, where he was to lodge.

While the nuncio was thus proceeding unnoticed up the Thames, the
equipages sent by Wolsey entered London through the midst of a gaping
crowd, who looked on them with curiosity as if they had come from the
banks of the Tiber. Some of the mules however took fright and ran
away, the coffers fell off and burst open, when there was a general
rush to see their contents; but to the surprise of all they were
empty. This was an excellent jest for the citizens of London. "Fine
outside, empty inside; a just emblem of the popedom, its embassy, and
foolish pomps," they said; "a sham legate, a procession of masks, and
the whole a farce!"

[Sidenote: ANNE'S INDECISION TERMINATED.]

Campeggio was come at last, and now what he dreaded most was an
audience. "I cannot move," he said, "or endure the motion of a
litter."[869] Never had an attack of gout been more seasonable.
Wolsey, who paid him frequent visits, soon found him to be his equal
in cunning. To no purpose did he treat him with every mark of respect,
shaking his hand and making much of him;[870] it was labour lost, the
Roman nuncio would say nothing, and Wolsey began to despair. The king,
on the contrary, was full of hope, and fancied he already had the act
of divorce in his portfolio, because he had the nuncio in his kingdom.

  [869] Despatch from the bishop of Bayonne, 16th October, 1529. Le
  Grand, Preuves, p. 169.

  [870] Quem sæpius visitavi et amantissime sum complexus. (State
  Papers, vii, p. 103.) Whom often I have visited, and most lovingly
  embraced.

The greatest effect of the nuncio's arrival was the putting an end to
Anne Boleyn's indecision. She had several relapses: the trials which
she foresaw, and the grief Catherine must necessarily feel, had
agitated her imagination and disturbed her mind. But when she saw the
church and her own enemies prepared to pronounce the king's divorce,
her doubts were removed, and she regarded as legitimate the position
that was offered her. The king, who suffered from her scruples, was
delighted at this change. "I desire to inform you," he wrote to her in
English, "what joy it is to me to understand of your conformableness
with reason, and of the suppressing of your inutile and vain thoughts
and fantasies with the bridle of reason. I assure you all the
greatness of this world could not counterpoise for my satisfaction the
knowledge and certainty thereof.... The unfeigned sickness of this
well-willing legate doth somewhat retard his access to your
person."[871] It was therefore the determination of the pope that made
Anne Boleyn resolve to accept Henry's hand; this is an important
lesson for which we are indebted to the _Vatican letters_. We should
be grateful to the papacy for having so carefully preserved them.

  [871] Pamphleteer, No. 43. p. 123.

[Sidenote: CAMPEGGIO'S INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN.]

But the more Henry rejoiced, the more Wolsey despaired; he would have
desired to penetrate into Clement's thoughts, but could not succeed.
Imagining that De Angelis, the general of the Spanish Observance, knew
all the secrets of the pope and of the emperor, he conceived the plan
of kidnapping him. "If he goes to Spain by sea," said he to Du Bellay,
"a good brigantine or two would do the business; and if by land, it
will be easier still." Du Bellay failed not (as he informs us himself)
"to tell him plainly that by such proceedings he would entirely
forfeit the pope's good will."--"What matter?" replied Wolsey, "I
have nothing to lose." As he said this, tears started to his
eyes.[872] At last he made up his mind to remain ignorant of the
pontiff's designs, and wiped his eyes, awaiting, not without fear, the
interview between Henry and Campeggio.

  [872] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 21st October. Le Grand, Preuves, p.
  185.

On the 22nd of October, a month after his arrival, the nuncio, borne
in a sedan chair of red velvet, was carried to court. He was placed on
the right of the throne, and his secretary in his name delivered a
high-sounding speech, saluting Henry with the name of Saviour of Rome,
_Liberator urbis_. "His majesty," replied Fox in the king's name, "has
only performed the duties incumbent on a Christian prince, and he
hopes that the holy see will bear them in mind."--"Well attacked, well
defended," said Du Bellay. For the moment, a few Latin declamations
got the papal nuncio out of his difficulties.

Campeggio did not deceive himself: if the divorce were refused, he
foresaw the reformation of England. Yet he hoped still, for he was
assured that Catherine would submit to the judgment of the church; and
being fully persuaded that the queen would refuse the holy father
nothing, the nuncio began "his approaches," as Du Bellay calls them.
On the 27th of October, the two cardinals waited on Catherine, and in
flattering terms insinuated that she might prevent the blow which
threatened her by voluntary retirement into a convent. And then, to
end all indecision in the queen's mind, Campeggio put on a severe look
and exclaimed: "How is it, madam, explain the mystery to us? From the
moment the holy father appointed us to examine the question of your
divorce, you have been seen not only at court, but in public, wearing
the most magnificent ornaments, participating with an appearance of
gaiety and satisfaction at amusements and festivities which you had
never tolerated before.... The church is in the most cruel
embarrassment with regard to you; the king, your husband, is in the
greatest perplexity; the princess, your daughter, is taken from you
... and instead of shedding tears, you give yourself up to vanity.
Renounce the world, madam; enter a nunnery. Our holy father himself
requires this of you."[873]

  [873] Ibid. 1st November, p. 195.

[Sidenote: CATHERINE'S REPLY.]

The agitated queen was almost fainting; stifling her emotion, however,
she said mildly but firmly: "Alas! my lords, is it now a question
whether I am the king's lawful wife or not, when I have been married
to him almost twenty years and no objection raised before?... Divers
prelates and lords are yet alive who then adjudged our marriage good
and lawful,--and now to say it is detestable! this is a great marvel
to me, especially when I consider what a wise prince the king's father
was, and also the natural love and affection my father, King
Ferdinand, bare unto me. I think that neither of these illustrious
princes would have made me contract an illicit union." At these words,
Catherine's emotion compelled her to stop.--"If I weep, my lords," she
continued almost immediately, "it is not for myself, it is for a
person dearer to me than my life. What! I should consent to an act
which deprives my daughter of a crown? No, I will not sacrifice my
child. I know what dangers threaten me. I am only a weak woman, a
stranger, without learning, advisers, or friends ... and my enemies
are skilful, learned in the laws, and desirous to merit their master's
favour ... and more than that, even my judges are my enemies. Can I
receive as such," she said as she looked at Campeggio, "a man extorted
from the pope by manifest lying?... And as for you," added she,
turning haughtily to Wolsey, "having failed in attaining the tiara,
you have sworn to revenge yourself on my nephew the emperor ... and
you have kept him true promise; for all his wars and vexations, he may
only thank you. One victim was not enough for you. Forging abominable
suppositions, you desire to plunge his aunt into a frightful abyss....
But my cause is just, and I trust it in the Lord's hand." After this
bold language, the unhappy Catherine withdrew to her apartments. The
imminence of the danger effected a salutary revolution in her; she
laid aside her brilliant ornaments, assumed the sober garments in
which she is usually represented, and passed days and nights in
mourning and in tears.[874]

  [874] Regina in luctu et lacrymis noctes diesque egit. Sanders, p. 29.

Thus Campeggio saw his hopes deceived; he had thought to find a nun,
and had met a queen and a mother.... He now proceeded to set every
imaginable spring at work; as Catherine would not renounce Henry, he
must try and prevail upon Henry to renounce his idea of separating
from the queen. The Roman legate therefore changed his batteries, and
turned them against the king.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S INTERVIEW WITH THE NUNCIO.]

Henry, always impatient, went one day unannounced to Campeggio's
lodging, accompanied by Wolsey only:[875] "As we are without
witnesses," he said, taking his seat familiarly between the two
cardinals, "let us speak freely of our affairs.[876]--How shall you
proceed?" But to his great astonishment and grief,[877] the nuncio
prayed him, with all imaginable delicacy, to renounce the
divorce.[878] At these words the fiery Tudor burst out: "Is this how
the pope keeps his word? He sends me an ambassador to annul my
marriage, but in reality to confirm it." He made a pause. Campeggio
knew not what to say. Henry and Catherine being equally persuaded of
the justice of their cause, the nuncio was in a dilemma. Wolsey
himself suffered a martyrdom.[879] The king's anger grew fiercer; he
had thought the legate would hasten to withdraw an imprudent
expression, but Campeggio was dumb. "I see that you have chosen your
part," said Henry to the nuncio; "mine, you may be sure, will soon be
taken also. Let the pope only persevere in this way of acting, and the
apostolical see, covered with perpetual infamy, will be visited with a
frightful destruction."[880] The lion had thrown off the lamb's skin
which he had momentarily assumed. Campeggio felt that he must appease
the monarch. "Craft and delay" were his orders from Rome; and with
that view the pope had provided him with the necessary arms. He
hastened to produce the famous _decretal_ which pronounced the
divorce. "The holy father," he told the king, "ardently desires that
this matter should be terminated by a happy reconciliation between you
and the queen; but if that is impossible, you shall judge yourself
whether or not his holiness can keep his promises." He then read the
bull, and even showed it to Henry, without permitting it, however, to
leave his hands. This exhibition produced the desired effect: Henry
grew calm. "Now I am at ease again," he said; "this miraculous
talisman revives all my courage. This decretal is the efficacious
remedy that will restore peace to my oppressed conscience, and joy to
my bruised heart.[881] Write to his holiness, that this immense
benefit binds me to him so closely, that he may expect from me more
than his imagination can conceive."

And yet a few clouds gathered shortly after in the king's mind.

Campeggio having shown the bull had hastened to lock it up again.
Would he presume to keep it in his own hands? Henry and Wolsey will
leave no means untried to get possession of it; that point gained, and
victory is theirs.

  [875] Regia majestas et ego ad eum crebro accessimus. State Papers,
  vii. p. 103.

  [876] Rex et duo cardinales, remotis arbitris, de suis rebus multum et
  diu collocuti. Sanders, P. 29.

  [877] Incredibili utriusque nostrum animi moerore. State Papers, vii.
  p. 104.

  [878] Conatus est omne divortium inter regiam majestatem et reginam
  dissuadere. Ibid.

  [879] Non absque ingenti cruciatu. Ibid.

  [880] Ingemiscendum excidium, perpetua infamia. Ibid.

  [881] Remedium levamenque afflictæ oppressaque conscientiæ. Ibid.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY REFUSED THE DECRETAL.]

Wolsey having returned to the nuncio, he asked him for the decretal
with an air of candour as if it was the most natural thing in the
world. He desired, he said, to show it to the king's privy-councillors.
"The pope," replied Campeggio, "has granted this bull, not to be used,
but to be kept secret;[882] he simply desired to show the king the
good feeling by which he was animated." Wolsey having failed, Henry
tried his skill. "Have the goodness to hand me the bull which you
showed me," said he. The nuncio respectfully refused. "For a single
moment," he said. Campeggio still refused. The haughty Tudor retired,
stifling his anger. Then Wolsey made another attempt, and founded his
demand on justice. "Like you, I am delegated by his holiness to decide
this affair," he said, "and I wish to study the important document
which is to regulate our proceedings."--This was met by a new refusal.
"What!" exclaimed the minister of Henry VIII, "am I not, like you, a
cardinal?... like you, a judge? your colleague?" It mattered not, the
nuncio would not, by any means, let the decretal go.[883] Clement was
not deceived in the choice he had made of Campeggio; the ambassador
was worthy of his master.

  [882] Non ut ea uteremur, sed ut secreta haberetur. State Papers, vii.
  p. 104.

  [883] Nullo pacto adduci vult, ut mihi, _suo collegæ_, commissionem
  hanc decretalem e suis manibus credat. (Ibid. p. 105.) By no
  engagement could he be induced, to trust out of his hands, to me, his
  colleague that decretal commission.

It was evident that the pope in granting the bull had been acting a
part: this trick revolted the king. It was no longer anger that he
felt, but disgust. Wolsey knew that Henry's contempt was more to be
feared than his wrath. He grew alarmed, and paid the nuncio another
visit. "The _general_ commission," he said, "is insufficient, the
_decretal_ commission alone can be of service, and you do not permit
us to read a word of it.[884]... The king and I place the greatest
confidence in the good intentions of his holiness, and yet we find our
expectations frustrated.[885] Where is that paternal affection with
which we had flattered ourselves? What prince has ever been trifled
with as the king of England is now? If this is the way in which the
_Defender of the Faith_ is rewarded, Christendom will know what those
who serve Rome will have to expect from her, and every power will
withdraw its support. Do not deceive yourselves: the foundation on
which the holy see is placed is so very insecure that the least
movement will suffice to precipitate it into everlasting ruin.[886]
What a sad futurity!... what inexpressible torture!... whether I wake
or sleep, gloomy thoughts continually pursue me like a frightful
nightmare."[887] This time Wolsey spoke the truth.

  [884] Nec ullum verbum nec mentionem ullam. Ibid.

  [885] Esse omnni spe frustratos quam in præfata Sanctitate tam ingenue
  reposueramus. Ibid.

  [886] A fundamento tam levi, incertaque statera pendeat, ut in
  sempiternam ruinam. State Papers, vii, p. 106.

  [887] Quanto animi cruciatu ... vigilans dormiensque. Ibid. p. 108.

[Sidenote: THE NUNCIO REFUSES EVERYTHING.]

But all his eloquence was useless; Campeggio refused to give up the so
much desired bull. When sending him, Rome had told him: "Above all, do
not succeed!" This means having failed, there remained for Wolsey one
other way of effecting the divorce. "Well, then," he said to
Campeggio, "let us pronounce it ourselves."--"Far be it from us,"
replied the nuncio; "the anger of the emperor will be so great, that
the peace of Europe will be broken for ever."--"I know how to arrange
all that," replied the English cardinal, "in political matters you may
trust to me."[888] The nuncio then took another tone, and proudly
wrapping himself up in his morality, he said: "I shall follow the
voice of my conscience; if I see that the divorce is possible, I shall
leap the ditch; if otherwise, I shall not."--"Your conscience! that
may be easily satisfied," rejoined Wolsey. "Holy Scripture forbids a
man to marry his brother's widow; now no pope can grant what is
forbidden by the law of God."--"The Lord preserve us from such a
principle," exclaimed the Roman prelate; "the power of the pope is
unlimited."--The nuncio had hardly put his conscience forward before
it stumbled; it bound him to Rome and not to heaven. But for that
matter, neither public opinion nor Campeggio's own friends had any
great idea of his morality; they thought that to make him _leap the
ditch_, it was only requisite to know the price at which he might be
bought. The bishop of Bayonne wrote to Montmorency: "Put at the close
of a letter which I can show Campeggio something _promissory_, that he
shall have _benefices_.... That will cost you nothing, and may serve
in this matter of the marriage; for I know that he is longing for
something of the sort."--"What is to be done then," said Wolsey at
last, astonished at meeting with a resistance to which he was
unaccustomed. "I shall inform the pope of what I have seen and heard,"
replied Campeggio, "and I shall wait for his instructions." Henry was
forced to consent to this new course, for the nuncio hinted, that if
it were opposed he would go in person to Rome to ask the pontiff's
orders, and he never would have returned. By this means several months
were gained.

  [888] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 266.

[Sidenote: THE PEOPLE SUPPORT CATHERINE.]

During this time men's minds were troubled. The prospect of a divorce
between the king and queen had stirred the nation; and the majority,
particularly among the women, declared against the king. "Whatever may
be done," the people said boldly, "whoever marries the princess Mary
will be king of England."[889] Wolsey's spies informed him that
Catherine and Charles V had many devoted partizans even at the court.
He wished to make sure of this. "It is pretended," he said one day in
an indifferent tone, "that the emperor has boasted that he will get
the king driven from his realm, and that by his majesty's own
subjects.... What do you think of it, my lords?"--"Tough against the
spur," says Du Bellay, the lords remained silent. At length, however,
one of them more imprudent than the rest, exclaimed: "Such a boast
will make the emperor lose more than a hundred thousand Englishmen."
This was enough for Wolsey. To _lose_ them, he thought, Charles must
_have_ them. If Catherine thought of levying war against her husband,
following the example of former queens of England, she would have,
then, a party ready to support her; this became dangerous.

  [889] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 8th November 1528. Le Grand, Preuves,
  p. 204.

The king and the cardinal immediately took their measures. More than
15,000 of Charles's subjects were ordered to leave London; the arms of
the citizens were seized, "in order that they might have no worse
weapon than the tongue;"[890] the Flemish councillors accorded to
Catherine were dismissed after they had been heard by the king and
Campeggio, "for they had no commission to speak to _the other_
[Wolsey]"--and finally, they kept "a great and constant watch" upon
the country. Men feared an invasion of England, and Henry was not of a
humour to subject his kingdom to the pope.

  [890] Ibid. p. 232.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S SPEECH.]

This was not enough; the alarmed king thought it his duty to come to
an explanation with his people; and having summoned the lords
spiritual and temporal, the judges, the members of the privy-council,
the mayor and aldermen of the city, and many of the gentry, to meet
him at his palace of Bridewell on the 13th of November,[891] he said
to them with a very condescending air: "You know, my lords and
gentlemen, that for these twenty years past divine Providence has
granted our country such prosperity as it had never known before. But
in the midst of all the glory that surrounds me, the thought of my
last hour often occurs to me,[892] and I fear that if I should die
without an heir, my death would cause more damage to my people than my
life has done them good. God forbid, that for want of a legitimate
king England should be again plunged into the horrors of civil war!"
Then calling to mind the illegalities invalidating his marriage with
Catherine, the king continued: "These thoughts have filled my mind
with anxiety, and are continually pricking my conscience. This is the
only motive, and God is my witness,[893] which has made me lay this
matter before the pontiff. As touching the queen, she is a woman
incomparable in gentleness, humility, and buxomness, as I these twenty
years have had experiment of; so that if I were to marry again, if the
marriage might be good, I would surely choose her above all other
women. But if it be determined by judgment that our marriage was
against God's law, and surely void, then I shall not only sorrow in
departing from so good a lady and loving companion, but much more
lament and bewail my unfortunate chance, that I have so long lived in
adultery, to God's great displeasure, and have no true heir of my body
to inherit this realm.... Therefore I require of you all to pray with
us that the very truth may be known, for the discharging of our
conscience and the saving of our soul."[894] These words, though
wanting in sincerity, were well calculated to soothe men's minds.
Unfortunately, it appears that after this _speech from the crown_, the
official copy of which has been preserved, Henry added a few words of
his own. "If, however," he said, according to Du Bellay, casting a
threatening glance around him, "there should be any man whatsoever who
speaks of his prince in other than becoming terms, I will show him
that I am the master, and there is no head so high that I will not
roll it from his shoulders."[895] This was a speech in Henry's style;
but we cannot give unlimited credit to Du Bellay's assertions, this
diplomatist being very fond, like others of his class, of "seasoning"
his despatches. But whatever may be the fact as regards the
postscript, the speech on the divorce produced an effect. From that
time there were no more jests, not even on the part of the Boleyns'
enemies. Some supported the king, others were content to pity the
queen in secret; the majority prepared to take advantage of a
court-revolution which every one foresaw. "The king _so plainly_ gave
them to understand his pleasure," says the French ambassador, "that
they speak more soberly than they have done hitherto."

  [891] This act is dated Idibus Novembris. Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p.
  714. Herbert and Collyer say the 8th November.

  [892] In mentem una venit et concurrit mortis cogitatio. Ibid.

  [893] Hæc una res quod Deo teste et in regis oraculo affirmamus.
  Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 714.

  [894] Hall, p. 754.

  [895] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 17th November 1528. Le Grand, Preuves,
  p. 218.

[Sidenote: DU BELLAY SOLICITS CAMPEGGIO.]

Henry wishing to silence the clamours of the people, and to allay the
fears felt by the higher classes, gave several magnificent
entertainments at one time in London, at another at Greenwich, now at
Hampton Court, and then at Richmond. The queen accompanied him, but
Anne generally remained "in a very handsome lodging which Henry had
furnished for her," says Du Bellay. The cardinal, following his
master's example, gave representations of French plays with great
magnificence. All his hope was in France. "I desire nothing in
England, neither in word nor in deed, which is not French,"[896] he
said to the bishop of Bayonne. At length Anne Boleyn had accepted the
brilliant position she had at first refused, and every day her stately
mansion (Suffolk House) was filled with a numerous court,--"more than
ever had crowded to the queen."--"Yes, yes," said Du Bellay, as he saw
the crowd turning towards the _rising sun_, "they wish by these
_little_ things to accustom the people to endure her, that when
_great_ ones are attempted, they may not be found so strange."

  [896] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 1st January. Le Grand, p. 268.

[Sidenote: TRUE CATHOLICITY.]

In the midst of these festivities the grand business did not slumber.
When the French ambassador solicited the subsidy intended for the
ransom of the sons of Francis I, the cardinal required of him in
exchange a paper proving that the marriage had never been valid. Du
Bellay excused himself on the ground of his age and want of learning;
but being given to understand that he could not have the subsidy
without it, he wrote the memoir in a single day. The enraptured
cardinal and king entreated him to speak with Campeggio.[897] The
ambassador consented, and succeeded beyond all expectation. The
nuncio, fully aware that a bow too much bent will break, made Henry by
turns become the sport of hope and fear. "Take care how you assert
that the pope had not the right to grant a dispensation to the king,"
said he to the French bishop, "this would be denying _his power, which
is infinite_. But," added he in a mysterious tone, "I will point out a
road that will infallibly lead you to the mark. Show that the holy
father has been deceived by false information. _Push me hard on
that_," he continued "so as to force me to declare that the
dispensation was granted on erroneous grounds."[898] Thus did the
legate himself reveal the breach by which the fortress might be
surprised. "Victory!" exclaimed Henry, as he entered Anne's apartments
all beaming with joy.

  [897] Ibid. p. 200.

  [898] Poussez-moi cela raide. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand,
  Preuves, p. 217.

But this confidence on the part of Campeggio was only a new trick.
"There is a great rumour at court," wrote Du Bellay soon after, "that
the emperor and the king of France are coming together, and leaving
Henry alone, so that all will fall on his shoulders."[899] Wolsey,
finding that the intrigues of diplomacy had failed, thought it his
duty to put fresh springs in motion, "and by all good and honest means
to gain the pope's favour."[900] He saw, besides, to his great sorrow,
the new catholicity then forming in the world, and uniting, by the
closest bonds, the Christians of England to those of the continent. To
strike down one of the leaders of this evangelical movement might
incline the court of Rome in Henry's favour. The cardinal undertook,
therefore, to persecute Tyndale; and this resolution will now
transport us to Germany.

  [899] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 219.

  [900] Ibid. p. 225.




CHAPTER IV.

     True Catholicity--Wolsey--Harman's Matter--West sent to
     Cologne--Labours of Tyndale and Fryth--Rincke at
     Frankfort--He makes a Discovery--Tyndale at Marburg--West
     returns to England--His Tortures in the Monastery.


The residence of Tyndale and his friends in foreign countries, and the
connections there formed with pious Christians, testify to the
fraternal spirit which the Reformation then restored to the church. It
is in protestantism that true catholicity is to be found. The Romish
church is not a catholic church. Separated from the churches of the
east, which are the oldest in Christendom, and from the reformed
churches, which are the purest, it is nothing but a sect, and that a
degenerated one. A church which should profess to believe in an
episcopal unity, but which kept itself separate from the episcopacy of
Rome and of the East, and from the evangelical churches, would be no
longer a catholic church; it would be a sect more sectarian still than
that of the Vatican, a fragment of a fragment. The church of the
Saviour requires a truer, a diviner unity than that of priests, who
condemn one another. It was the reformers, and particularly
Tyndale,[901] who proclaimed throughout Christendom the existence of a
_body of Christ_, of which all the children of God are members. The
disciples of the Reformation are the true catholics.

  [901] The Church of Christ is the multitude of all them that believe
  in Christ, etc. Exposition of Matthew, Prologue.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S CATHOLICITY.]

It was a catholicity of another sort that Wolsey desired to uphold. He
did not reject certain reforms in the church, particularly such as
brought him any profit; but, before all, he wished to preserve for the
hierarchy their privileges and uniformity. The Romish Church in
England was then personified in him, and if he fell, its ruin would be
near. His political talents and multiplied relations with the
continent, caused him to discern more clearly than others the dangers
which threatened the popedom. The publication of the Scriptures of God
in English appeared to some a cloud without importance, which would
soon disappear from the horizon; but to the foreseeing glance of
Wolsey, it betokened a mighty tempest. Besides, he loved not the
fraternal relations then forming between the evangelical Christians of
Great Britain and of other nations. Annoyed by this spiritual
catholicity, he resolved to procure the arrest of Tyndale, who was its
principal organ.

Already had Hackett, Henry's envoy to the Low Countries, caused the
imprisonment of Harman, an Antwerp merchant, one of the principal
supporters of the English reformer. But Hackett had in vain asked
Wolsey for such documents as would convict him of _treason_ (for the
crime of loving the Bible was not sufficient to procure Harman's
condemnation in Brabant); the envoy had remained without letters from
England, and the last term fixed by the law having expired, Harman and
his wife were liberated after seven months' imprisonment.

And yet Wolsey had not been inactive. The cardinal hoped to find
elsewhere the co-operation which Margaret of Austria refused. It was
Tyndale that he wanted, and everything seemed to indicate that he was
then hidden at Cologne or in its neighbourhood. Wolsey, recollecting
senator Rincke and the services he had already performed, determined
to send to him one John West, a friar of the Franciscan convent at
Greenwich. West, a somewhat narrow-minded but energetic man, was very
desirous of distinguishing himself, and he had already gained some
notoriety in England among the adversaries of the Reformation.
Flattered by his mission, this vain monk immediately set off for
Antwerp, accompanied by another friar, in order to seize Tyndale, and
even Roy, once his colleague at Greenwich, and against whom he had
there ineffectually contended in argument.

While these men were conspiring his ruin, Tyndale composed several
works, got them printed, and sent to England, and prayed God night and
day to enlighten his fellow-countrymen. "Why do give you give yourself
so much trouble," said some of his friends. "They will burn your books
as they have burnt the Gospel." "They will only do what I expect,"
replied he, "if they burn me also." Already he beheld his own burning
pile in the distance; but it was a sight which only served to increase
his zeal. Hidden, like Luther at the Wartburg, not however in a
castle, but in a humble lodging, Tyndale, like the Saxon reformer,
spent his days and nights translating the Bible. But not having an
elector of Saxony to protect him, he was forced to change his
residence from time to time.

[Sidenote: GENESIS AND DEUTERONOMY TRANSLATED.]

At this epoch, Fryth, who had escaped from the prisons of Oxford,
rejoined Tyndale, and the sweets of friendship softened the bitterness
of their exile. Tyndale having finished the New Testament, and begun
the translation of the Old, the learned Fryth was of great use to him.
The more they studied the word of God, the more they admired it. In
the beginning of 1529, they published the books of Genesis and
Deuteronomy, and addressing their fellow-countrymen, they said: "As
thou readest, think that every syllable pertaineth to thine own self,
and suck out the pith of the Scripture."[902] Then denying that
visible signs naturally impart grace, as the schoolmen had pretended,
Tyndale maintained that the sacraments are effectual only when the
Holy Ghost sheds his influence upon them. "The ceremonies of the Law,"
he wrote, "stood the Israelites in the same stead as the sacraments do
us. We are saved not by the power of the sacrifice or the deed itself,
but by virtue of _faith in the promise_, whereof the sacrifice or
ceremony was a token or sign. The Holy Ghost is no dumb God, no God
that goeth a mumming. Wherever the word is proclaimed, this inward
witness worketh. If baptism preach me the washing in Christ's blood,
so doth the Holy Ghost accompany it; and that deed of preaching
through faith doth put away my sins. The ark of Noah saved them in the
water through faith."[903]

  [902] Prologue to the Book of Genesis (Doctr. Tr.) p. 400.

  [903] Prologue to the Book of Leviticus (Doctr. Tr.) p. 423, 424,
  426.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE SOUGHT AT FRANKFORT.]

The man who dared address England in language so contrary to the
teaching of the middle ages must be imprisoned. John West, who had
been sent with this object, arrived at Antwerp; Hackett procured for
him as interpreter a friar of English descent, made him assume a
secular dress, and gave him "three pounds" on the cardinal's account;
the less attention the embassy attracted, the more likely it would be
to succeed. But great was West's vexation, on reaching Cologne, to
learn that Rincke was at Frankfort. But that mattered not; the
Greenwich monk could search for Tyndale at Cologne, and desire Rincke
to do the same at Frankfort; thus there would be two searches instead
of one. West procured a "swift" messenger, (he too was a monk,) and
gave him the letter Wolsey had addressed to Rincke.

It was fair-time at Frankfort, and the city was filled with merchants
and their wares. As soon as Rincke had finished reading Wolsey's
letter, he hastened to the burgomasters, and required them to
confiscate the English translations of the Scriptures, and, above all,
to seize "the heretic who was troubling England as Luther troubled
Germany." "Tyndale and his friends have not appeared in our fairs
since the month of March 1528," replied the magistrates, "and we know
not whether they are dead or alive."

Rincke was not discouraged. John Schoot of Strasburg, who was said to
have printed Tyndale's books, and who cared less about the works he
published than the money he drew from them, happened to be at
Frankfort. "Where is Tyndale?" Rincke asked him. "I do not know,"
replied the printer; but he confessed that he had printed a thousand
volumes at the request of Tyndale and Roy. "Bring them to me,"
continued the senator of Cologne--"If a fair price is paid me, I will
give them up to you." Rincke paid all that was demanded.

Wolsey would now be gratified, for the New Testament annoyed him
almost as much as the divorce; this book, so dangerous in his eyes,
seemed on the point of raising a conflagration which would infallibly
consume the edifice of Roman traditionalism. Rincke, who participated
in his patron's fears, impatiently opened the volumes made over to
him; but there was a sad mistake, they were not the New Testament, not
even a work of Tyndale's, but one written by William Roy, a changeable
and violent man, whom the reformer had employed for some time at
Hamburg, and who had followed him to Cologne, but with whom he had
soon become disgusted. "I bade him farewell for our two lives," said
Tyndale, "and a day longer." Roy, on quitting the reformer, had gone
to Strasburg, where he boasted of his relations with him, and had got
a satire in that city printed against Wolsey and the monastic orders,
entitled _The Burial of the Mass_: this was the book delivered to
Rincke. The monk's sarcastic spirit had exceeded the legitimate bounds
of controversy, and the senator accordingly dared not send the volumes
to England. He did not however discontinue his inquiries, but searched
every place where he thought he could discover the New Testament, and
having seized all the suspected volumes, set off for Cologne.[904]

  [904] Anderson, Annals of the Bible, i. p. 203: "I gathered together
  and packed up all the books from every quarter."

[Sidenote: TYNDALE AT MARBURG.]

Yet he was not satisfied. He wanted Tyndale, and went about asking
every one if they knew where to find him. But the reformer, whom he
was seeking in so many places, and especially at Frankfort and
Cologne, chanced to be residing at about equal distances from these
two towns, so that Rincke, while travelling from one to the other,
might have met him face to face, as Ahab's messenger met Elijah.[905]
Tyndale was at Marburg, whither he had been drawn by several motives.
Prince Philip of Hesse was the great protector of the evangelical
doctrines. The university had attracted attention in the Reform by the
paradoxes of Lambert of Avignon. Here a young Scotchman named
Hamilton, afterwards illustrious as a martyr, had studied shortly
before, and here too the celebrated printer, John Luft, had his
presses. In this city Tyndale and Fryth had taken up their abode, in
September 1528, and, hidden on the quiet banks of the Lahn, were
translating the Old Testament. If Rincke had searched this place he
could not have failed to discover them. But either he thought not of
it, or was afraid of the terrible landgrave. The direct road by the
Rhine was that which he followed, and Tyndale escaped.

  [905] I Kings xviii, 7.

When he arrived at Cologne, Rincke had an immediate interview with
West. Their investigations having failed, they must have recourse to
more vigorous measures. The senator, therefore, sent the monk back to
England, accompanied by his son Hermann, charging them to tell Wolsey:
"To seize Tyndale we require fuller powers, ratified by the emperor.
The traitors who conspire against the life of the king of England are
not tolerated in the empire, much less Tyndale and all those who
conspire against Christendom. He must be put to death; nothing but
some striking example can check the Lutheran heresy.--And as to
ourselves," they were told to add, "by the favour of God there may
possibly be an opportunity for his royal highness and your grace to
recompense us."[906] Rincke had not forgotten the subsidy of ten
thousand pounds which he had received from Henry VII for the Turkish
war, when he had gone to London as Maximilian's envoy.

  [906] Cotton MSS. Vitellius, B, xxi. fol. 43. Bible Annals, i, p. 204.

[Sidenote: WEST'S ANNOYANCES.]

West returned to England sorely vexed that he had failed in his
mission. What would they say at court and in his monastery? A fresh
humiliation was in reserve for him. Roy, whom West had gone to look
for on the banks of the Rhine, had paid a visit to his mother on the
banks of the Thames; and to crown all, the new doctrines had
penetrated into his own convent. The warden, father Robinson, had
embraced them, and night and day the Greenwich monks read that New
Testament which West had gone to Cologne to burn. The Antwerp friar,
who had accompanied him on his journey, was the only person to whom he
could confide his sorrows; but the Franciscans sent him back again to
the continent, and then amused themselves at poor West's expense. If
he desired to tell of his adventures on the banks of the Rhine, he was
laughed at; if he boasted of the names of Wolsey and Henry VIII, they
jeered him still more. He desired to speak to Roy's mother, hoping to
gain some useful information from her; this the monks prevented. "It
is in my commission," he said. They ridiculed him more and more.
Robinson, perceiving that the commission made West assume unbecoming
airs of independence, requested Wolsey to withdraw it; and West,
fancying he was about to be thrown into prison, exclaimed in alarm: "I
am weary of my life!" and conjured a friend whom he had at court to
procure him before Christmas an _obedience_ under his lordship's hand
and seal, enabling him to leave the monastery; "What you pay him for
it," he added, "I shall see you be reimbursed." Thus did West expiate
the fanatical zeal which had urged him to pursue the translator of the
oracles of God. What became of him, we know not: he is never heard of
more.

At that time Wolsey had other matters to engage him than this
"obedience." While West's complaints were going to London, those of
the king were travelling to Rome. The great business in the cardinal's
eyes was to maintain harmony between Henry and the church. There was
no more thought about investigations in Germany, and for a time
Tyndale was saved.




CHAPTER V.

     Necessity of the Reformation--Wolsey's Earnestness with Da
     Casale--An Audience with Clement VII--Cruel Position of the
     Pope--A Judas' Kiss--A new Brief--Bryan and Vannes sent to
     Rome--Henry and Du Bellay--Wolsey's Reasons against the
     Brief--Excitement in London--Metamorphosis--Wolsey's
     Decline--His Anguish.


[Sidenote: NECESSITY OF THE REFORMATION.]

The king and a part of his people still adhered to the popedom, and so
long as these bonds were not broken the word of God could not have
free course. But to induce England to renounce Rome, there must indeed
be powerful motives: and these were not wanting.

Wolsey had never given such pressing orders to any of Henry's
ambassadors: "The king," he wrote to Da Casale on the 1st of November
1528, "commits this business to your prudence, dexterity, and
fidelity; and I conjure you to employ all the powers of your genius,
and even to surpass them. Be very sure that you have done nothing and
can do nothing that will be more agreeable to the king, more desirable
by me, and more useful and glorious for you and your family."[907]

  [907] Vobis vestræque familiæ utilius aut honorificentius. State
  Papers, vii, p. 114.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT BETWEEN CHARLES AND HENRY.]

Da Casale possessed a tenacity which justified the cardinal's
confidence, and an active excitable mind: trembling at the thought of
seeing Rome lose England, he immediately requested an audience of
Clement VII. "What!" said he to the pope, "just as it was proposed to
go on with the divorce, your nuncio endeavours to dissuade the
king!... There is no hope that Catherine of Aragon will ever give an
heir to the crown. Holy father, there must be an end of this. Order
Campeggio to place the _decretal_ in his majesty's hands."--"What say
you?" exclaimed the pope. "I would gladly lose one of my fingers to
recover it again, and you ask me to make it public ... it would be my
ruin."[908] Da Casale insisted: "we have a duty to perform," he said;
"we remind you at this last hour of the perils threatening the
relations which unite Rome and England. The crisis is at hand. We
knock at your door, we cry, we urge, we entreat, we lay before you the
present and future dangers which threaten the papacy.[909]... The
world shall know that the king at least has fulfilled the duty of a
devoted son of the church. If your holiness desires to keep England in
St. Peter's fold, I repeat ... now is the time ... now is the
time."[910] At these words, Da Casale, unable to restrain his emotion,
fell down at the pope's feet, and begged him to save the church in
Great Britain. The pope was moved. "Rise," said he, with marks of
unwonted grief,[911] "I grant you all that is in my power; I am
willing to confirm the judgment which the legates may think it their
duty to pass; but I acquit myself of all responsibility as to the
untold evils which this matter may bring with it.... If the king,
after having defended the faith and the church, desires to ruin both,
on him alone will rest the responsibility of so great a disaster."
Clement granted nothing. Da Casale withdrew disheartened, and feeling
convinced that the pontiff was about to treat with Charles V.

  [908] Burnet, Records, ii. p. 20. Unius digiti jactura....quod factum
  fuit revocarem.

  [909] Admonere, exclamare, rogare, instare, urgere, pulsare, pericula
  præsentia et futura demonstrare. State Papers, vii, p. 112.

  [910] Tempus jam in promptu adest. State Papers, vii. p. 112.

  [911] Burnet's Ref. i. p. 44. Records, p. xx.

Wolsey desired to save the popedom; but the popedom resisted. Clement
VII was about to lose that island which Gregory the Great had won with
such difficulty. The pope was in the most cruel position. The English
envoy had hardly left the palace before the emperor's ambassador
entered breathing threats. The unhappy pontiff escaped the assaults of
Henry only to be exposed to those of Charles; he was thrown backwards
and forwards like a ball. "I shall assemble a general council," said
the emperor through his ambassador, "and if you are found to have
infringed the canons of the church in any point, you shall be
proceeded against with every rigour. Do not forget," added his agent
in a low tone, "that your birth is _illegitimate_, and consequently
excludes you from the pontificate." The timid Clement, imagining that
he saw the tiara falling from his head, swore to refuse Henry every
thing. "Alas!" he said to one of his dearest confidants, "I repent in
dust and ashes that I ever granted this decretal bull. If the king of
England so earnestly desires it to be given him, certainly it cannot
be merely to know its contents. He is but too familiar with them. It
is only to tie my hands in this matter of the divorce; I would rather
die a thousand deaths." Clement, to calm his agitation, sent one of
his ablest gentlemen of the bed-chamber, Francis Campana, apparently
to feed the king with fresh promises, but in reality to cut the only
thread on which Henry's hopes still hung. "We embrace your majesty,"
wrote the pope in the letter given to Campana, "with the paternal
love your numerous merits deserve."[912] Now Campana was sent to
England to burn clandestinely the famous decretal;[913] Clement
concealed his blows by an embrace. Rome had granted many divorces not
so well founded as that of Henry VIII; but a very different matter
from a divorce was in question here; the pope, desirous of upraising
in Italy his shattered power, was about to sacrifice the Tudor, and to
prepare the triumph of the Reformation. Rome was separating herself
from England.

  [912] Nos illum paterna charitate complecti, ut sua erga nos atque
  hanc sedem plurima merita requirunt. State Papers, vii. 116.

  [913] To charge Campegius to burn the decretal. Herbert, p. 250.
  Burnet's Ref. i, 47.

[Sidenote: SECRET BRIEF OF JULIUS II.]

All Clement's fear was, that Campana would arrive too late to burn the
bull; he was soon reassured; a dead calm prevented the _great matter_
from advancing. Campeggio, who took care to be in no hurry about his
mission, gave himself up, like a skilful diplomatist, to his worldly
tastes; and when he could not, due respect being had to the state of
his legs, indulge in the chase, of which he was very fond, he passed
his time in gambling, to which he was much addicted. Respectable
historians assert that he indulged in still more illicit
pleasures.[914] But this could not last for ever, and the nuncio
sought some new means of delay, which offered itself in the most
unexpected manner. One day an officer of the queen's presented to the
Roman legate a _brief_ of Julius II, bearing the same date as the
_bull_ of dispensation, signed too, like that, by the secretary
Sigismond, and in which the pope expressed himself in such a manner,
that Henry's objections fell of themselves. "The emperor," said
Catherine's messenger, "has discovered this brief among the papers of
Puebla, the Spanish ambassador in England, at the time of the
marriage."--"It is impossible to go on," said Campeggio to Wolsey;
"all your reasoning is now cut from under you. _We must wait for fresh
instructions._" This was the cardinal's conclusion at every new
incident, and the journey from London to the Vatican being very long
(without reckoning the Roman dilatoriness), the expedient was
infallible.

  [914] Hunting and gaming all the day long, and following harlots all
  the night. Ibid. p. 52.

Thus there existed two acts of the same pope, signed on the same
day--the one secret, the other public, in contradiction to each other.
Henry determined to send a new mission to Rome. Anne proposed for this
embassy one of the most accomplished gentlemen of the court, her
cousin, Sir Francis Bryan. With him was joined an Italian, Peter
Vannes, Henry's Latin secretary. "You will search all the registers of
the time of Julius II," said Wolsey to them; "you will study the
hand-writing of secretary Sigismond, and you will attentively examine
the ring of the fisherman used by that pontiff.[915]--Moreover you
will inform the pope that it is proposed to set a certain greyfriar,
named De Angelis, in his place, to whom Charles would give the
_spiritual_ authority, reserving the _temporal_ for himself. You will
manage so that Clement takes alarm at the project, and you will then
offer him a guard of 2000 men to protect him. You will ask whether, in
case the queen should desire to embrace a religious life, on condition
of the king's doing the same, and Henry should yield to this
wish,[916] he could have the assurance that the pope would afterwards
release him from his vows. And, finally, you will inquire whether, in
case the queen should refuse to enter a convent, the pope would permit
the king to have _two wives_, as we see in the Old Testament."[917]
The idea which has brought so much reproach on the landgrave of Hesse
was not a new one; the honour of it belongs to a cardinal and legate
of Rome, whatever Bossuet may say. "Lastly," continued Wolsey, "as the
pope is of a timid disposition, you will not fail to season your
remonstrances with threats. You, Peter, will take him aside and tell
him that, as an Italian, having more at heart than any one the glory
of the holy see, it is your duty to warn him, that if he persists, the
king, his realm, and many other princes, will for ever separate from
the papacy."

  [915] State Papers, vii. p. 126, note.

  [916] Only thereby to conduce the queen thereunto. Ibid. p. 136, note.

[917] De duabus uxoribus. Henry's Instructions to Knight, in the
  middle of December 1528. Ibid. p. 137. Some great reasons and
  precedents of the Old Testament appear. Instructions to same, 1st Dec.
  Ibid. p. 136, note.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S CONFERENCE WITH DU BELLAY.]

It was not on the mind of the pope alone that it was necessary to act;
the rumour that the emperor and the king of France were treating
together disturbed Henry. Wolsey had vainly tried to sound Du Bellay;
these two priests tried craft against craft. Besides, the Frenchman
was not always seasonably informed by his court, letters taking _ten
days_ to come from Paris to London.[918] Henry resolved to have a
conference with the ambassador. He began by speaking to him of _his
matter_, says Du Bellay, "and I promise you," he added, "that he needs
no advocate, he understands the whole business so well." Henry next
touched upon the _wrongs_ of Francis I, "recalling so many things that
the envoy knew not what to say."--"I pray you, Master Ambassador,"
said Henry in conclusion, "to beg the king, my brother, to give up a
little of his amusements during a year only for the prompt despatch of
his affairs. Warn those whom it concerns." Having given this spur to
the king of France, Henry turned his thoughts towards Rome.

  [918] La dite lettre du roi, combien qu'elle fût du 3, je l'ai reçue
  sinon le 13; le pareil m'advint quasi de toutes autres. Du Bellay to
  Montmorency, 20th Dec. Le Grand, Preuves.

[Sidenote: NON-AUTHENTICITY OF THE BRIEF.]

In truth, the fatal brief from Spain tormented him day and night, and
the cardinal tortured his mind to find proofs of its non-authenticity;
if he could do so, he would acquit the papacy of the charge of
duplicity, and accuse the emperor of forgery. At last he thought he
had succeeded. "In the first place," he said to the king, "the brief
has the same date as the bull. Now, if the errors in the latter had
been found out on the day it was drawn up, it would have been more
natural to make another than to append a brief pointing out the
errors. What! the same pope, the same day, at the petition of the same
persons, give out two rescripts for one effect,[919] one of which
contradicts the other! Either the bull was good, and then, why the
brief? or the bull was bad, and then, why deceive princes by a
worthless bull? Many names are found in the brief incorrectly spelt,
and these are faults which the pontifical secretary, whose accuracy is
so well known, could not have committed.[920] Lastly, no one in
England ever heard mention of this brief; and yet it is here that it
ought to be found." Henry charged Knight, his principal secretary, to
join the other envoys with all speed, in order to prove to the pope
the supposititious character of the document.

  [919] State Papers, vol. vii. p. 130.

  [920] Queen _Isabella_ was called _Elizabeth_ in the brief; but I have
  seen a document from the court of Madrid in which Queen Elizabeth of
  England was called Isabella; it is not therefore an error without a
  parallel.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S TROUBLE.]

This important paper revived the irritation felt in England against
Charles V, and it was resolved to come to extremities. Every one
discontented with Austria took refuge in London, particularly the
Hungarians. The ambassador from Hungary proposed to Wolsey to adjudge
the imperial crown of Germany to the elector of Saxony or the
landgrave of Hesse, the two chiefs of protestantism.[921] Wolsey
exclaimed in alarm: "It will be an inconvenience to Christendom, _they
are so Lutheran_." But the Hungarian ambassador so satisfied him that
in the end he did not find the matter quite so inconvenient. These
schemes were prospering in London, when suddenly a new metamorphosis
took place under the eyes of Du Bellay. The king, the cardinal, and
the ministers appeared in strange consternation. Vincent da Casale had
just arrived from Rome with a letter from his cousin the prothonatory,
informing Henry that the pope, seeing the triumph of Charles V, the
indecision of Francis I, the isolation of the king of England, and
the distress of his cardinal, had flung himself into the arms of the
emperor. At Rome they went so far as to jest about Wolsey, and to say
that since he could not be St. Peter they would make him St. Paul.

  [921] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 12 Jan. 1529. Le Grand, Preuves, p.
  279.

While they were ridiculing Wolsey at Rome, at St. Germain's, they were
joking about Henry. "I will make him get rid of the notions he has in
his head," said Francis; and the Flemings, who were again sent out of
the country, said as they left London, "that this year they would
carry on the war so vigorously, that it would be really a sight worth
seeing."

Besides these public griefs, Wolsey had his private ones. Anne Boleyn,
who had already begun to use her influence on behalf of the despotic
cardinal's victims, gave herself no rest until Cheyney, a courtier
disgraced by Wolsey, had been restored to the king's favour. Anne even
gave utterance to several biting sarcasms against the cardinal, and
the duke of Norfolk and his party began "to speak big," says Du
Bellay. At the moment when the pope, scared by Charles V, was
separating from England, Wolsey himself was tottering. Who shall
uphold the papacy?... After Wolsey, nobody! Rome was on the point of
losing the power which for nine centuries she had exercised in the
bosom of this illustrious nation. The cardinal's anguish cannot be
described; unceasingly pursued by gloomy images, he saw Anne on the
throne causing the triumph of the Reformation: this nightmare was
stifling him. "His grace, the legate, is in great trouble," wrote the
bishop of Bayonne. "However ... he is more cunning than they
are."[922]

To still the tempest Wolsey had only one resource left: this was to
render Clement favourable to his master's designs. The crafty Campana,
who had burnt the decretal, conjured him not to believe all the
reports transmitted to him concerning Rome. "To satisfy the king,"
said he to the cardinal, "the holy father will, if necessary, descend
from the pontifical throne."[923] Wolsey therefore resolved to send to
Rome a more energetic agent than Vannes, Bryan, or Knight, and cast
his eyes on Gardiner. His courage began to revive, when an unexpected
event fanned once more his loftiest hopes.

  [922] Le Grand, Preuves, p. 295, 296.

  [923] Burnet, Hist. Ref. vol. i. p. 60.




CHAPTER VI.

     The Pope's Illness--Wolsey's Desire--Conference about the
     Members of the Conclave--Wolsey's Instructions--The Pope
     recovers--Speech of the English Envoys to the Pope--Clement
     willing to abandon England--The English demand the Pope's
     Denial of the Brief--Wolsey's Alarm--Intrigues--Bryan's
     clearsightedness--Henry's Threats--Wolsey's new Efforts--He
     calls for an Appeal to Rome, and retracts--Wolsey and Du
     Bellay at Richmond--The Ship of the State.


[Sidenote: THE POPE'S ILLNESS.]

On the 6th of January 1529, the feast of Epiphany, just as the pope
was performing mass, he was attacked by a sudden illness; he was taken
to his room, apparently in a dying state. When this news reached
London, the cardinal resolved to hasten to abandon England, where the
soil trembled under his feet, and to climb boldly to the throne of the
pontiffs. Bryan and Vannes, then at Florence, hurried on to Rome
through roads infested with robbers. At Orvieto they were informed the
pope was better; at Viterbo, no one knew whether he was alive or dead;
at Ronciglione, they were assured that he had expired; and, finally,
when they reached the metropolis of the popedom, they learnt that
Clement could not survive, and that the imperialists, supported by the
Colonnas, were striving to have a pope devoted to Charles V.[924]

  [924] State Papers, vii. p. 143-150.

[Sidenote: PARTIES AMONG THE CARDINALS.]

But great as might be the agitation at Rome, it was greater still at
Whitehall. If God caused De' Medici to descend from the pontifical
throne, it could only be, thought Wolsey, to make him mount it. "It is
expedient to have such a pope as may save the realm," said he to
Gardiner. "And although it cannot but be incommodious to me in this
mine old age to be the common father, yet, when all things be well
pondered, the qualities of all the cardinals well considered, I am the
only one, without boasting, that can and will remedy the king's secret
matter. And were it not for the redintegration of the state of the
church, and especially to relieve the king and his realm from their
calamities, all the riches and honour of the world should not cause me
to accept the said dignity. Nevertheless I conform myself to the
necessities of the times. Wherefore, Master Stephen, that this matter
may succeed, I pray you to apply all your ingenuity, spare neither
money nor labour. I give you the amplest powers, without restriction
or limitation."[925] Gardiner departed to win for his master the
coveted tiara.

  [925] Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 601.

Henry VIII and Wolsey, who could hardly restrain their impatience,
soon heard of the pontiff's death from different quarters.[926] "The
emperor has taken away Clement's life,"[927] said Wolsey, blinded by
hatred. "Charles," rejoined the king, "will endeavour to obtain by
force or fraud, a pope according to his desires." "Yes, to make him
his chaplain," replied Wolsey, "and to put an end by degrees both to
pope and popedom."[928] "We must fly to the defence of the church,"
resumed Henry, "and with that view, my lord, make up your mind to be
pope."--"That alone," answered the cardinal, "can bring your Majesty's
weighty matter to a happy termination, and by saving you, save the
church ... and myself also," he thought in his heart.--"Let us see,
let us count the voters."

  [926] By sundry ways hath been advertised of the death of our holy
  father. Ibid. The king's instructions.

  [927] By some detestable act committed for the late pope's
  destruction. Ibid. p. 603.

  [928] By little and little utterly to exclude and extinguish him and
  his authority. Ibid.

Henry and his minister then wrote down on a strip of parchment the
names of all the cardinals, marking with the letter _A_ those who were
on the side of the kings of England and France, and with the letter
_B_ all who favoured the emperor. "There was no _C_," says a
chronicler sarcastically, "to signify any on _Christ's_ side." The
letter _N_ designated the neutrals. "The cardinals present," said
Wolsey, "will not exceed thirty-nine, and we must have two-thirds,
that is, twenty-six. Now, there are twenty upon whom we can reckon; we
must therefore, at any price, gain six of the neutrals."

[Sidenote: MEANS TO GAIN THE TIARA.]

Wolsey, deeply sensible of the importance of an election that would
decide whether England was to be reformed or not, carefully drew up
the instructions, which Henry signed and which history must register.
"We desire and ordain," the ambassadors were informed in them, "that
you secure the election of the cardinal of York; not forgetting that
next to the salvation of his own soul, there is nothing the king
desires more earnestly.

"To gain over the neutral cardinals you will employ two methods in
particular. The first is, the cardinals being present, and having God
and the Holy Ghost before them, you shall remind them that the
cardinal of York alone can save Christendom.

"The second is, because human fragility suffereth not all things to be
pondered and weighed in a just balance, it appertaineth in matter of
so high importance, to the comfort and relief of all Christendom, to
succour the infirmity that may chance ... not for corruption, you will
understand ... but rather to help the lacks and defaults of human
nature. And, therefore, it shall be expedient that you promise
spiritual offices, dignities, rewards of money, or other things which
shall seem meet to the purpose.

"Then shall you, with good dexterity, combine and knit those
favourable to us in a perfect fastness and indissoluble knot. And that
they may be the better animated to finish the election to the king's
desire, you shall offer them a guard of 2000 or 3000 men from the
kings of England and France, from the viscount of Turin, and the
republic of Venice.

"If, notwithstanding all your exertions, the election should fail,
then the cardinals of the kings shall repair to some sure place, and
there proceed to such an election as may be to God's pleasure.

"And to win more friends for the king, you shall promise, on the one
hand, to the Cardinal de' Medici and his party our special favour; and
the Florentines, on the other hand, you shall put in comfort of the
exclusion of the said family De' Medici. Likewise you shall put the
cardinals in perfect hope of recovering the patrimony of the church;
and you shall contain the Venetians in good trust of a reasonable way
to be taken for Cervia and Ravenna (which formed part of the
patrimony) to their contentment."[929]

  [929] Foxe, iv. p. 604-608.

Such were the means by which the cardinal hoped to win the papal
throne. To the right he said _yes_, to the left he said _no_. What
would it matter that these perfidies were one day discovered, provided
it were after the election. Christendom might be very certain that the
choice of the future pontiff would be the work of the Holy Ghost.
Alexander VI had been a poisoner; Julius II had given way to ambition,
anger, and vice; the liberal Leo X had passed his life in worldly
pursuits; the unhappy Clement VII had lived on stratagems and lies;
Wolsey would be their worthy successor:

    "All the seven deadly sins have worn the triple crown."[930]

  [930] Les sept peches mortels ont porte la tiare. Casimir Delavigne,
  Derniers chants, le Conclave.

[Sidenote: THE DIVORCE DEMANDED.]

Wolsey found his excuse in the thought, that if he succeeded, the
divorce was secured, and England enslaved for ever to the court of
Rome.

Success at first appeared probable. Many cardinals spoke openly in
favour of the English prelate; one of them asked for a detailed
account of his life, in order to present it as a model to the church;
another worshipped him (so he said) as a divinity.... Among the gods
and popes adored at Rome there were some no better than he. But ere
long alarming news reached England. What grief! the pope was getting
better. "Conceal your instructions," wrote the cardinal, "and reserve
them _in omnem eventum_."

Wolsey not having obtained the tiara, it was necessary at least to
gain the divorce. "God declares," said the English ambassadors to the
pope, "_except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that
build it_.[931] Therefore, the king, taking God alone for his guide,
requests of you, in the first place, an engagement to pronounce the
divorce in the space of three months, and in the second the avocation
to Rome."--"The promise first, and only after that the avocation,"
Wolsey had said; "for I fear that if the pope begins with the
avocation, he will never pronounce the divorce."--"Besides," added the
envoys, "the king's second marriage admits of no refusal, whatever
bulls or briefs there may be.[932] The only issue of this matter is
the divorce; the divorce in one way or another must be procured."

  [931] Where Christ is not the foundation, surely no building can be of
  good work. State Papers, vii. p. 122.

  [932] Convolare ad secundas nuptias non patitur negativum. Ibid. p.
  138.

Wolsey had instructed his envoys to pronounce these words with a
certain air of familiarity, and at the same time with a gravity
calculated to produce an effect.[933] His expectations were deceived:
Clement was colder than ever. He had determined to abandon England in
order that he might secure the States of the Church, of which Charles
was then master, thus sacrificing the spiritual to the temporal. "The
pope will not do the least thing for your majesty," wrote Bryan to the
king; "your matter may well be in his _Pater noster_, but it certainly
is not in his _Credo_."[934] "Increase in importunity," answered the
king; "the cardinal of Verona should remain about the pope's person
and counterbalance the influence of De Angelis and the archbishop of
Capua. I would rather lose my two crowns than be beaten by these two
friars."

  [933] Which words, fashioned with a familiarity and somewhat with
  earnestness and gravity. Ibid.

  [934] Ibid. vol. i, p. 330.

[Sidenote: THE POPE'S TERGIVERSATIONS.]

Thus was the struggle about to become keener than ever, when Clement's
relapse once more threw doubt on every thing. He was always between
life and death; and this perpetual alternation agitated the king and
the impatient cardinal in every way. The latter considered that the
pope had need of _merits_ to enter the kingdom of heaven. "Procure an
interview with the pope," he wrote to the envoys, "even though he be
in the very agony of death;[935] and represent to him that nothing
will be more likely _to save his soul_ than the bill of divorce."
Henry's commissioners were not admitted; but towards the end of March,
the deputies appearing in a body,[936] the pope promised to examine
the letter from Spain. Vannes began to fear this document; he
represented that those who had fabricated it would have been able to
give it an appearance of authenticity. "Rather declare immediately
that this brief is not a brief," said he to the pope. "The king of
England, who is your holiness's son, is not so like the rest of the
world. We cannot put the same shoe on every foot."[937] This rather
vulgar argument did not touch Clement. "If to content your master in
this business," said he, "I cannot employ my head, at least I will my
finger."[938]--"Be pleased to explain yourself," replied Vannes, who
found the _finger_ a very little matter.--"I mean," resumed the
pontiff, "that I shall employ every means, provided they are
_honourable_." Vannes withdrew disheartened.

  [935] Burnet's Ref. i. p. 49.

  [936] Postquam conjunctim omnes. State Papers, vii. p. 154.

  [937] Uno eodemque calceo omnium pedes velle vestire. Ibid. p. 156.

  [938] Quod forsan non licebit toto capite assequi, in eo digitum
  imponam. Ibid. p. 157.

He immediately conferred with his colleagues, and all together,
alarmed at the idea of Henry's anger, returned to the pontiff; they
thrust aside the lackeys, who endeavoured to stop them, and made their
way into his bed-chamber. Clement opposed them with that resistance of
inertia by which the popedom has gained its greatest victories:
_siluit_, he remained silent. Of what consequence to the pontiff were
Tudor, his island, and his church, when Charles of Austria was
threatening him with his armies? Clement, less proud than Hildebrand,
submitted willingly to the emperor's power, provided the emperor would
protect him. "I had rather," he said, "be Cæsar's servant, not only in
a temple, but in a stable if necessary, than be exposed to the insults
of rebels and vagabonds."[939] At the same time he wrote to Campeggio:
"Do not irritate the king, but spin out this matter as much as
possible;[940] the Spanish brief gives us the means."

  [939] Malle Cæsari a stabulo nedum a sacris inservire, quam inferiorum
  hominum subditorum, vassalorum, rebellium injurias sustinere. Herbert,
  vol. i, p. 261.

  [940] Le Grand, vol. i, p. 131.

[Sidenote: STRATAGEMS AND DELAYS.]

In fact, Charles V had twice shown Lee the original document, and
Wolsey, after this ambassador's report, began to believe that it was
not Charles who had forged the brief, but that Pope Julius II had
really given two contradictory documents on the same day. Accordingly
the cardinal now feared to see this letter in the pontiff's hands. "Do
all you can to dissuade the pope from seeking the original in Spain,"
wrote he to one of his ambassadors; "it may exasperate the emperor."
We know how cautious the cardinal was towards Charles. Intrigue
attained its highest point at this epoch, and Englishmen and Romans
encountered craft with craft. "In such ticklish negotiations," says
Burnet, (who had had some little experience in diplomacy) "ministers
must say and unsay as they are instructed, which goes of course as a
part of their business."[941] Henry's envoys to the pope intercepted
the letters sent from Rome, and had Campeggio's seized.[942] On his
part the pope indulged in flattering smiles and perfidious
equivocations. Bryan wrote to Henry VIII: "Always your grace hath done
for him in deeds, and he hath recompensed you with fair _words_, and
fair _writings_, of which both I think your grace shall lack none; but
as for the _deeds_, I never believe to see them, and especially at
this time."[943] Bryan had comprehended the court of Rome better
perhaps than many politicians. Finally, Clement himself, wishing to
prepare the king for the blow he was about to inflict, wrote to him:
"We have been able to find nothing that would satisfy your
ambassadors."[944]

  [941] Burnet's Ref. vol. i. p. 54.

  [942] De intercipiendis literis. State Papers, vol. vii, p. 185.

  [943] Ibid. p. 167.

  [944] He added: Tametsi noctes ac dies per nos ipsi, ac per
juris-peritissimos viros omnes vias tentemus. (Ibid. p. 165.) Although
night and day by ourselves, and along with the most skilful lawyers,
we try all ways.

Henry thought he knew what this message meant: that he had found
nothing, and would find nothing; and accordingly this prince, who, if
we may believe Wolsey, had hitherto shown incredible patience and
gentleness,[945] gave way to all his violence. "Very well then," said
he; "my lords and I well know how to withdraw ourselves from the
authority of the Roman see." Wolsey turned pale, and conjured his
master not to rush into that fearful abyss;[946] Campeggio, too,
endeavoured to revive the king's hopes. But it was all of no use.
Henry recalled his ambassadors.

  [945] Incredibili patientia et humanitate. Burnet, Records, p. xxxii.

  [946] Ne præceps huc vel illuc rex hic ruat curamus. Ibid. p. xxxiii.

Henry, it is true, had not yet reached the age when violent characters
become inflexible from the habit they have encouraged of yielding to
their passions. But the cardinal, who knew his master, knew also that
his inflexibility did not depend upon the number of his years; he
thought Rome's power in England was lost, and placed between Henry
and Clement, he exclaimed: "How shall I avoid Scylla, and not fall
into Charybdis?"[947] He begged the king to make one last effort by
sending Dr. Bennet to the pope with orders to support the avocation to
Rome, and he gave him a letter in which he displayed all the resources
of his eloquence. "How can it be imagined," he wrote, "that the
persuasions of sense urge the king to break a union in which the
ardent years of his youth were passed with such purity?[948]... The
matter is very different. I am on the spot, I know the state of men's
minds.... Pray, believe me.... The divorce is the secondary question;
the primary one is the _fidelity of this realm_ to the papal see. The
nobility, gentry, and citizens all exclaim with indignation: Must our
fortunes, and even our lives, depend upon the nod of a foreigner? We
must abolish, or at the very least diminish, the authority of the
Roman pontiff.[949]... Most holy father, we cannot mention such things
without a shudder."... This new attempt was also unavailing. The pope
demanded of Henry how he could doubt his good will, seeing that the
king of England had done so much for the apostolic see.[950] This
appeared a cruel irony to Tudor; the king requested a favour of the
pope, and the pope replied by calling to mind those which the papacy
had received from his hands. "Is this the way," men asked in England,
"in which Rome pays her debts?"

  [947] Hanc Charybdin et hos scopulos evitasse. Burnet, Records, p.
  xxxii.

  [948] Sensuum suadela eam abrumpere cupiat consuetudinem. Ibid. p.
  xxxiii.

  [949] Qui nullam aut certe diminutam hic Romani pontificis
  auctoritatem. Ibid.

  [950] Dubitare non debes si quidem volueris recordare tua erga nos
  merita. State Papers, vii, p. 178.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S EARNESTNESS.]

Wolsey had not reached the term of his misfortunes. Gardiner and Bryan
had just returned to London: they declared that to demand an avocation
to Rome was to lose their cause. Accordingly Wolsey, who turned to
every wind, ordered Da Casale, in case Clement should pronounce the
avocation, to appeal from the pope, the false head of the church, _to
the true vicar of Jesus Christ_.[951] This was almost in Luther's
style. Who was this true vicar? Probably a pope nominated by the
influence of England.

  [951] A non vicario ad verum vicarium Jesu Christi. Ibid. p. 191.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S GRIEF.]

But this proceeding did not assure the cardinal: he was losing his
judgment. A short time before this Du Bellay, who had just returned
from Paris, whither he had gone to retain France on the side of
England, had been invited to Richmond by Wolsey. As the two prelates
were walking in the park, on that hill whence the eye ranges over the
fertile and undulating fields through which the winding Thames pours
its tranquil waters, the unhappy cardinal observed to the bishop: "My
trouble is the greatest that ever was!... I have excited and carried
on this matter of the divorce, to dissolve the union between the two
houses of Spain and England, by sowing misunderstanding between them,
as if I had no part in it.[952] You know it was in the interest of
France; I therefore entreat the king your master and her majesty to do
every thing that may forward the divorce. I shall esteem such a favour
more than if they made me pope; but if they refuse me, my ruin is
inevitable." And then giving way to despair, he exclaimed: "Alas!
would that I were going to be buried to-morrow!"

  [952] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 22nd May. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 319.

The wretched man was drinking the bitter cup his perfidies had
prepared for him. All seemed to conspire against Henry, and Bennet was
recalled shortly after. It was said at court and in the city: "Since
the pope sacrifices us to the emperor, let us sacrifice the pope."
Clement VII, intimidated by the threats of Charles V, and tottering
upon his throne, madly repelled with his foot the bark of England.
Europe was all attention, and began to think that the proud vessel of
Albion, cutting the cable that bound her to the pontiffs, would boldly
spread her canvass to the winds, and ever after sail the sea alone,
wafted onwards by the breeze that comes from heaven.

The influence of Rome over Europe is in great measure political. It
loses a kingdom by a royal quarrel, and might in this same way lose
ten.




CHAPTER VII.

     Discussion Between the Evangelicals and the Catholics--Union
     of Learning and Life--The Laity--Tewkesbury--His Appearance
     before the Bishop's Court--He is tortured--Two Classes of
     Opponents--A Theological Duel--Scripture and the
     Church--Emancipation of the Mind--Mission to the Low
     Countries--Tyndale's Embarrassment--Tonstall wishes to buy
     the Books--Packington's Stratagem--Tyndale departs for
     Antwerp--His Shipwreck--Arrival at Hamburg--Meets Coverdale.


[Sidenote: EVANGELICALS AND CATHOLICS.]

Other circumstances from day to day rendered the emancipation of the
church more necessary. If behind these political debates there had
not been found a Christian people, resolved never to temporize with
error, it is probable that England, after a few years of independence,
would have fallen back into the bosom of Rome. The affair of the
divorce was not the only one agitating men's minds; the religious
controversies, which for some years filled the continent, were always
more animated at Oxford and Cambridge. The _Evangelicals_ and the
_Catholics_ (not very catholic indeed) warmly discussed the great
questions which the progress of events brought before the world. The
former maintained that the primitive church of the apostles and the
actual church of the papacy were not identical; the latter affirmed,
on the contrary, the identity of popery and apostolic Christianity.
Other Romish doctors in later times, finding this position somewhat
embarrassing, have asserted that Catholicism existed only _in the
germ_ in the apostolic church, and had subsequently developed itself.
But a thousand abuses, a thousand errors may creep into a church under
cover of this theory. A plant springs from the seed and grows up in
accordance with immutable laws; whilst a doctrine cannot be
transformed in the mind of man without falling under the influence of
sin. It is true that the disciples of popery have supposed a constant
action of the Divine Spirit in the Catholic church, which excludes
every influence of error. To stamp on the development of the church
the character of truth, they have stamped on the church itself the
character of infallibility; _quod erat demonstrandum_. Their reasoning
is a mere begging of the question. To know whether the Romish
development is identical with the Gospel, we must examine it by
Scripture.

It was not university men alone who occupied themselves with Christian
truth. The separation which has been remarked in other times between
the opinions of the people and of the learned, did not now exist. What
the doctors taught, the citizens practised; Oxford and London embraced
each other. The theologians knew that learning has need of life, and
the citizens believed that life has need of that learning which
derives the doctrine from the wells of the Scriptures of God. It was
the harmony between these two elements, the one theological, the other
practical, which constituted the strength of the English reformation.

[Sidenote: TEWKESBURY BEFORE THE BISHOPS.]

The evangelical life in the capital alarmed the clergy more than the
evangelical doctrine in the colleges. Since Monmouth had escaped, they
must strike another. Among the London merchants was John Tewkesbury,
one of the oldest friends of the Scriptures in England. As early as
1512 he had become possessor of a manuscript copy of the Bible, and
had attentively studied it; when Tyndale's New Testament appeared, he
read it with avidity; and, finally, _The Wicked Mammon_ had completed
the work of his conversion. Being a man of heart and understanding,
clever in all he undertook, a ready and fluent speaker, and liking to
get to the bottom of every thing, Tewkesbury like Monmouth became very
influential in the city, and one of the most learned in Scripture of
any of the evangelicals. These generous Christians, being determined
to consecrate to God the good things they had received from him, were
the first among that long series of laymen who were destined to be
more useful to the truth than many ministers and bishops. They found
time to interest themselves about the most trifling details of the
kingdom of God; and in the history of the Reformation in Britain their
names should be inscribed beside those of Latimer and Tyndale.

The activity of these laymen could not escape the cardinal's notice.
Clement VII was abandoning England: it was necessary for the English
bishops, by crushing the heretics, to show that they would not abandon
the popedom. We can understand the zeal of these prelates, and without
excusing their persecutions, we are disposed to extenuate their crime.
The bishops determined to ruin Tewkesbury. One day in April 1529, as
he was busy among his peltries, the officers entered his warehouse,
arrested him, and led him away to the bishop of London's chapel,
where, besides the ordinary (Tonstall), the bishops of Ely, St. Asaph,
Bath, and Lincoln, with the abbot of Westminster, were on the bench.
The composition of this tribunal indicated the importance of his case.
The emancipation of the laity, thought these judges, is perhaps a more
dangerous heresy than justification by faith.

[Sidenote: MORE'S ATTACK ON TYNDALE.]

"John Tewkesbury," said the bishop of London, "I exhort you to trust
less to your own wit and learning, and more unto the doctrine of the
holy mother the church." Tewkesbury made answer, that in his judgment
he held no other doctrine than that of the church of Christ. Tonstall
then broached the principal charge, that of having read the Wicked
Mammon, and after quoting several passages, he exclaimed: "Renounce
these errors."--"I find no fault in the book," replied Tewkesbury. "It
has enlightened my conscience and consoled my heart. But it is not my
Gospel. I have studied the Holy Scriptures these seventeen years, and
as a man sees the spots of his face in a glass, so by reading them I
have learnt the faults of my soul.[953] If there is a disagreement
between you and the New Testament, put yourselves in harmony with it,
rather than desire to put that in accord with you." The bishops were
surprised that a leather-seller should speak so well, and quote
Scripture so happily that they were unable to resist him.[954] Annoyed
at being catechised by a layman, the bishops of Bath, St. Asaph, and
Lincoln thought they could conquer him more easily by the rack than by
their arguments. He was taken to the Tower, where they ordered him to
be put to the torture. His limbs were crushed, which was contrary to
the laws of England, and the violence of the rack tore from him a cry
of agony to which the priests replied by a shout of exultation. The
inflexible merchant had promised at last to renounce Tyndale's Wicked
Mammon. Tewkesbury left the Tower "almost a cripple,"[955] and
returned to his house to lament the fatal word which the question had
extorted from him, and to prepare in the silence of faith to confess
in the burning pile the precious name of Christ Jesus.

  [953] Foxe, iv. p. 690.

  [954] Ibid. p. 689.

  [955] Ibid.

We must, however, acknowledge that the "question" was not Rome's only
argument. The gospel had two classes of opponents in the sixteenth
century, as in the first ages of the church. Some attacked it with the
torture, others with their writings. Sir Thomas More, a few years
later, was to have recourse to the first of these arguments; but for
the moment he took up his pen. He had first studied the writings of
the Fathers of the church and of the Reformers, but rather as an
advocate than as a theologian; and then, armed at all points, he
rushed into the arena of polemics, and in his attacks dealt those
"technical convictions and that malevolent subtlety," says one of his
greatest admirers,[956] "from which the honestest men of his
profession are not free." Jests and sarcasms had fallen from his pen
in his discussion with Tyndale, as in his controversy with Luther.
Shortly after Tewkesbury's affair (in June, 1529) there appeared _A
Dialogue of Sir Thomas More, Knt., touching the pestilent Sect of
Luther and Tyndale, by the one begun in Saxony, and by the other
laboured to be brought into England_.[957]

  [956] Nisard, Hommes illustres de la renaissance. _Revue des Deux
  Mondes._

  [957] The Dialogue consisted of 250 pages, and was printed by John
  Rastell, More's brother-in-law. Tyndale's answer did not appear until
  later; we have thought it our duty to introduce it here.

[Sidenote: A THEOLOGICAL DUEL.]

Tyndale soon became informed of More's publication, and a remarkable
combat ensued between these two representatives of the two doctrines
that were destined to divide Christendom--Tyndale the champion of
Scripture, and More the champion of the church. More having called his
book a _dialogue_, Tyndale adopted this form in his reply,[958] and
the two combatants valiantly crossed their swords, though wide seas
lay between them. This theological duel is not without importance in
the history of the Reformation. The struggles of diplomacy, of
sacerdotalism, and of royalty were not enough; there must be struggles
of doctrine. Rome had set the hierarchy above the faith; the
Reformation was to restore faith to its place above the hierarchy.

  [958] Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue.

MORE. Christ said not, the Holy Ghost shall _write_, but shall
_teach_. Whatsoever the church says, it is the word of God, though it
be not in Scripture.

TYNDALE. What! Christ and the apostles not spoken of _Scriptures!...
These are written_, says St. John, _that ye believe and through belief
have life_. (1 John ii, 1; Rom. xv, 4; Matthew xxii, 29.)[959]

  [959] Ibid. p. 101.

[Sidenote: APOSTLES AND REFORMERS.]

MORE. The apostles have taught by _mouth_ many things they did not
_write_, because they should not come into the hands of the heathen
for mocking.

TYNDALE. I pray you what thing more to be mocked by the heathen could
they teach than the resurrection; and that Christ was God and man, and
died between two thieves? And yet all these things the apostles
_wrote_. And again, purgatory, penance, and satisfaction for sin, and
praying to saints, are marvellous agreeable unto the superstition of
the heathen people, so that they need not to abstain from writing of
them for fear lest the heathen should have mocked them.[960]

  [960] Ibid. p. 28, 29.

MORE. We must not examine the teaching of the church by Scripture, but
understand Scripture by means of what the church says.

TYNDALE. What! Does the air give light to the sun, or the sun to the
air? Is the church before the Gospel, or the Gospel before the church?
Is not the father older than the son? _God begat us with his own will,
with the word of truth_, says St. James (i, 18.) If he who begetteth
is before him who is begotten, the _word_ is before the _church_, or,
to speak more correctly, before the _congregation_.

MORE. Why do you say _congregation_ and not _church_?

TYNDALE. Because by that word _church_, you understand nothing but a
multitude of shorn and oiled, which we now call the spirituality or
clergy; while the word of right is common unto all the congregation of
them that believe in Christ.[961]

  [961] Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p. 12, 13.

MORE. The church is the pope and his sect are followers.

TYNDALE. The pope teacheth us to trust in holy works for salvation, as
penance, saints' merits, and friars' coats.[962] Now, he that hath no
faith to be saved through Christ, is not of Christ's church.[963]

  [962] Ibid. p. 40.

  [963] Ibid. p. 39.

MORE. The Romish church from which the Lutherans came out, was before
them, and therefore is the right one.

TYNDALE. In like manner you may say, the church of the Pharisees,
whence Christ and his apostles came out, was before them, and was
therefore the right church, and consequently Christ and his disciples
are heretics.

MORE. No: the apostles came out from the church of the Pharisees
because they found not Christ there; but your priests in Germany and
elsewhere, have come out of our church, because they wanted wives.

TYNDALE. Wrong: ... these priests were at first attached to what you
call _heresies_, and then they took wives; but yours were first
attached to the _holy_ doctrine of the pope, and then they took
harlots.[964]

  [964] Ibid. p. 104.

MORE. Luther's books be open, if you will not believe us.

TYNDALE. Nay, ye have shut them up, and have even burnt them.[965]...

  [965] Ibid. p. 189.

MORE. I marvel that you deny _purgatory_, Sir William, except it be a
plain point with you to go straight to hell.[966]

  [966] Ibid. p. 214.

TYNDALE. I know no other purging but faith in the cross of Christ;
while you, for a groat or a sixpence, buy some secret pills
[indulgences] which you take to purge yourselves of your sins.[967]

  [967] Ibid.

MORE. Faith, then, is your purgatory, you say; there is no need,
therefore, of works--a most immoral doctrine!

TYNDALE. It is faith _alone_ that saves us, but not a _bare faith_.
When a horse beareth a saddle and a man thereon, we may well say that
the horse only and alone beareth the saddle, but we do not mean the
saddle empty, and no man thereon.[968]

  [968] Ibid. p. 197.

In this manner did the catholic and the evangelical carry on the
discussion. According to Tyndale, what constitutes the true church is
the work of the Holy Ghost within; according to More, the constitution
of the papacy without. The spiritual character of the Gospel is thus
put in opposition to the formalist character of the Roman church. The
Reformation restored to our belief the solid foundation of the word of
God; for the sand it substituted the rock. In the discussion to which
we have just been listening, the advantage remained not with the
catholic. Erasmus, a friend of More's, embarrassed by the course the
latter was taking, wrote to Tonstall: "I cannot heartily congratulate
More."[969]

  [969] Thomæ More non admodum gratulor. Erasm. Epp. p. 1478.

Henry interrupted the celebrated knight in these contests to send him
to Cambray, where a peace was negotiating between France and the
empire. Wolsey would have been pleased to go himself; but his enemies
suggested to the king, "that it was only that he might not expedite
the matter of the divorce." Henry, therefore, despatched More, Knight,
and Tonstall; but Wolsey had created so many delays that he did not
arrive until after the conclusion of the _Ladies' Peace_ (August
1529). The king's vexation was extreme. Du Bellay had in vain helped
him to spend a _good preparatory July_ to make him _swallow the
dose_.[970] Henry was angry with Wolsey, Wolsey threw the blame on the
ambassador, and the ambassador defended himself, he tells us, "with
tooth and nail."[971]

  [970] Juillet préparatoire pour lui faire avaler la médecine.

  [971] Du bec et des ongles. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, iii.
  p. 328.

[Sidenote: TREATY AGAINST LUTHERAN BOOKS.]

By way of compensation, the English envoys concluded with the emperor
a treaty prohibiting on both sides the printing and sale of "any
Lutheran books."[972] Some of them could have wished for a good
persecution, for a few burning piles, it may be. A singular
opportunity occurred. In the spring of 1529, Tyndale and Fryth had
left Marburg for Antwerp, and were thus in the vicinity of the English
envoys. What West had been unable to effect, it was thought the two
most intelligent men in Britain could not fail to accomplish. "Tyndale
must be captured," said More and Tonstall.--"You do not know what sort
of a country you are in," replied Hackett. "Will you believe that on
the 7th of April, Harman arrested me at Antwerp for damages, caused by
his imprisonment? If you can lay anything to my charge as a private
individual, I said to the officer, I am ready to answer for myself;
but if you arrest me as ambassador, I know no judge but the emperor.
Upon which the procurator had the audacity to reply, that I was
arrested _as ambassador_; and the lords of Antwerp only set me at
liberty on condition that I should appear again at the first
summons.[973] These merchants are so proud of their franchises, that
they would resist even Charles himself." This anecdote was not at all
calculated to encourage More; and not caring about a pursuit, which
promised to be of little use, he returned to England. But the bishop
of London, who was left behind, persisted in the project, and repaired
to Antwerp to put it in execution.

  [972] Herbert, p. 316.

  [973] Hackett to Wolsey, Brussels, 13th April, 1529. Bible Annals,
  vol. i. p. 199.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S DANGER.]

Tyndale was at that time greatly embarrassed; considerable debts,
incurred with his printers, compelled him to suspend his labours. Nor
was this all: the prelate who had spurned him so harshly in London,
had just arrived in the very city where he lay concealed.... What
would become of him?... A merchant, named Augustin Packington, a
clever man, but somewhat inclined to dissimulation, happening to be at
Antwerp on business, hastened to pay his respects to the bishop. The
latter observed, in the course of conversation: "I should like to get
hold of the books with which England is poisoned." "I can perhaps
serve you in that matter," replied the merchant. "I know the Flemings,
who have bought Tyndale's books; so that if your lordship will be
pleased to pay for them, I will make you sure of them all."--"Oh, oh!"
thought the bishop, "Now, as the proverb says, I shall have God by the
toe.[974] Gentle Master Packington," he added in a flattering tone, "I
will pay for them whatsoever they cost you. I intend to burn them at
St. Paul's cross." The bishop, having his hand already on Tyndale's
Testaments, fancied himself on the point of seizing Tyndale himself.

  [974] Foxe, iv, p. 670.

Packington, being one of those men who love to conciliate all parties,
ran off to Tyndale, with whom he was intimate, and said:--"William, I
know you are a poor man, and have a heap of New Testaments and books
by you, for which you have beggared yourself; and I have now found a
merchant who will buy them all, and with ready money too."--"Who is
the merchant?" said Tyndale.--"The bishop of London."--"Tonstall?...
If he buys my books, it can only be to burn them."--"No doubt,"
answered Packington; "but what will he gain by it? The whole world
will cry out against the priest who burns God's word, and the eyes of
many will be opened. Come, make up your mind, William; the bishop
shall have the books, you the money, and I the thanks."... Tyndale
resisted the proposal; Packington became more pressing. "The question
comes to this," he said; "shall the bishop pay for the books or shall
he not? for, make up your mind ... he will have them."--"I consent,"
said the Reformer at last; "I shall pay my debts, and bring out a new
and more correct edition of the Testament." The bargain was made.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE SHIPWRECKED.]

Erelong the danger thickened around Tyndale. Placards, posted at
Antwerp and throughout the province, announced that the emperor, in
conformity with the treaty of Cambray, was about to proceed against
the Reformers and their writings. Not an officer of justice appeared
in the street but Tyndale's friends trembled for his liberty. Under
such circumstances, how could he print his translation of Genesis and
Deuteronomy? He made up his mind about the end of August to go to
Hamburg, and take his passage in a vessel loading for that port.
Embarking with his books, his manuscripts, and the rest of his money,
he glided down the Scheldt, and soon found himself afloat on the
German ocean.

But one danger followed close upon another. He had scarcely passed the
mouth of the Meuse when a tempest burst upon him, and his ship, like
that of old which bore St. Paul, was almost swallowed up by the
waves.--"Satan, envying the happy course and success of the Gospel,"
says a chronicler, "set to his might how to hinder the blessed labours
of this man."[975] The seamen toiled, Tyndale prayed, all hope was
lost. The reformer alone was full of courage, not doubting that God
would preserve him for the accomplishment of his work. All the
exertions of the crew proved useless; the vessel was dashed on the
coast, and the passengers escaped with their lives. Tyndale gazed with
sorrow upon that ocean which had swallowed up his beloved books and
precious manuscripts, and deprived him of his resources.[976] What
labours, what perils! banishment, poverty, thirst, insults, watchings,
persecution, imprisonment, the stake!... Like Paul, he was in perils
by his own countrymen, in perils among strange people, in perils in
the city, in perils in the sea. Recovering his spirits, however, he
went on board another ship, entered the Elbe, and at last reached
Hamburg.

  [975] Foxe, v, p. 120.

  [976] Lost both his money, his copies.... Ibid.

Great joy was in store for him in that city. Coverdale, Foxe informs
us, was waiting there to confer with him, and to help him in his
labours.[977] It has been supposed that Coverdale went to Hamburg to
invite Tyndale, in Cromwell's name, to return to England;[978] but it
is merely a conjecture, and requires confirmation. As early as 1527,
Coverdale had made known to Cromwell his desire to translate the
Scriptures.[979] It was natural that, meeting with difficulties in
this undertaking, he should desire to converse with Tyndale. The two
friends lodged with a pious woman named Margaret van Emmersen, and
spent some time together in the autumn of 1529, undisturbed by the
sweating sickness which was making such cruel havoc all around them.
Coverdale returned to England shortly after; the two reformers had, no
doubt, discovered that it was better for each of them to translate the
Scriptures separately.

  [977] Coverdale tarried for him and helped him. Ibid.

  [978] Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i. p. 240.

  [979] This is the date assigned in Coverdale's Remains. (Par. Soc.) p.
  490.

Before Coverdale's return, Tonstall had gone back to London, exulting
at carrying with him the books he had bought so dearly. But when he
reached the capital, he thought he had better defer the meditated
_auto da fé_ until some striking event should give it increased
importance. And besides, just at that moment, very different matters
were engaging public attention on the banks of the Thames, and the
liveliest emotions agitated every mind.




CHAPTER VIII.

     The Royal Session--Sitting of the 18th June; the Queen's
     Protest--Sitting of the 21st June--Summons to the King and
     Queen--Catherine's Speech--She retires--Impression on the
     audience--The King's Declaration--Wolsey's Protest--Quarrel
     between the Bishops--New sitting--Apparition to the Maid of
     Kent--Wolsey chafed by Henry--The Earl of Wiltshire at
     Wolsey's--Private Conference between Catherine and the two
     Legates.


[Sidenote: THE ROYAL SESSION.]

Affairs had changed in England during the absence of Tonstall and
More; and even before their departure, events of a certain importance
had occurred. Henry, finding there was nothing more to hope from Rome,
had turned to Wolsey and Campeggio. The Roman nuncio had succeeded in
deceiving the king. "Campeggio is very different from what he is
reported," said Henry to his friends; "he is not for the emperor, as I
was told; I have said somewhat to him which has changed his
mind."[980] No doubt he had made some brilliant promise.

  [980] Burnet, Records, p. xxxv.

[Sidenote: THE COMMISSION OPENED.]

Henry therefore, imagining himself sure of his two legates, desired
them to proceed with the matter of the divorce without delay. There
was no time to lose, for the king was informed that the pope was on
the point of recalling the commission given to the two cardinals; and
as early as the 19th of March, Salviati, the pope's uncle and
secretary of state, wrote to Campeggio about it.[981] Henry's process,
once in the court of the pontifical chancery, it would have been long
before it got out again. Accordingly, on the 31st of May, the king, by
a warrant under the great seal, gave the legates _leave_ to execute
their commission, "without any regard to his own person, and having
the fear of God only before their eyes."[982] The legates themselves
had suggested this formula to the king.

  [981] E quanto altro non si possa, forse si pensera ad avvocare la
  causa a se. Lettere di XIII uomini illustri, 19th March 1529.

  [982] Ut solum Deum præ oculis habentes. Rymer, Acta ad annum.

On the same day the commission was opened; but to begin the process
was not to end it. Every letter which the nuncio received forbade him
to do so in the most positive manner. "Advance slowly and never
finish," were Clement's instructions.[983] The trial was to be a
farce, played by a pope and two cardinals.

  [983] Sua beatitudine ricorda, che il procedere sia lento ed in modo
  alcuno non si _venghi al giudicio_. To Card. Campeggio, 29th May,
  1529. Lett. di Principi.

The ecclesiastical court met in the great hall of the Blackfriars,
commonly called the "parliament chamber." The two legates having
successively taken the commission in their hands, devoutly declared
that they were resolved to execute it (they should have said, to elude
it), made the required oaths, and ordered a peremptory citation of the
king and queen to appear on the 18th of June at nine in the morning.
Campeggio was eager to proceed _slowly_; the session was adjourned for
three weeks. The citation caused a great stir among the people.
"What!" said they, "a king and a queen constrained to appear, in their
own realm, before their own subjects." The papacy set an example which
was to be strictly followed in after-years both in England and in
France.

[Sidenote: A ROYAL SITTING.]

On the 18th of June Catherine appeared before the commission in the
parliament chamber, and stepping forward with dignity, said with a
firm voice: "I protest against the legates as incompetent judges, and
appeal to the pope."[984] This proceeding of the queen's, her pride
and firmness, troubled her enemies, and in their vexation they grew
exasperated against her. "Instead of praying God to bring this matter
to a good conclusion," they said, "she endeavours to turn away the
people's affections from the king. Instead of showing Henry the love
of a youthful wife, she keeps away from him night and day. There is
even cause to fear," they added, "that she is in concert with certain
individuals who have formed the horrible design of killing the king
and the cardinal."[985] But persons of generous heart, seeing only a
queen, a wife, and a mother, attacked in her dearest affections,
showed themselves full of sympathy for her.

  [984] Se in illos tanquam judices suos non assentire, ad papam
  provocavit. (Sanders, p. 32.) Refusing to acknowledge them as her
  judges, she appealed to the pope.

  [985] Burnet's Ref. i. p. 54.

On the 21st of June, the day to which the court adjourned, the two
legates entered the parliament chamber with all the pomp belonging to
their station, and took their seats on a raised platform. Near them
sat the bishops of Bath and Lincoln, the abbot of Westminster, and
Doctor Taylor, master of the Rolls, whom they had added to their
commission. Below them were the secretaries, among whom the skilful
Stephen Gardiner held the chief rank. On the right hung a cloth of
estate where the king sat surrounded by his officers; and on the left,
a little lower, was the queen, attended by her ladies. The archbishop
of Canterbury and the bishops were seated between the legates and
Henry VIII, and on both sides of the throne were stationed the
counsellors of the king and queen. The latter were Fisher, bishop of
Rochester, Standish of St. Asaph, West of Ely, and Doctor Ridley. The
people, when they saw this procession defile before them, were far
from being dazzled by the pomp. "Less show and more virtue," they
said, "would better become such judges."

[Sidenote: THE QUEEN'S APPEAL TO THE KING.]

The pontifical commission having been read, the legates declared that
they would judge without fear or favour, and would admit of neither
recusation nor appeal.[986] Then the usher cried: "Henry, king of
England, come into court." The king, cited in his own capital to
accept as judges two priests, his subjects, repressed the throbbing of
his proud heart, and replied, in the hope that this strange trial
would have a favourable issue: "Here I am." The usher continued:
"Catherine, queen of England, come into court." The queen handed the
cardinals a paper in which she protested against the legality of the
court, as the judges were the subjects of her opponent,[987] and
appealed to Rome. The cardinals declared they could not admit this
paper, and consequently Catherine was again called into court. At this
second summons she rose, devoutly crossed herself, made the circuit of
the court to where the king sat, bending with dignity as she passed in
front of the legates, and fell on her knees before her husband. Every
eye was turned upon her. Then speaking in English, but with a Spanish
accent, which by recalling the distance she was from her native home,
pleaded eloquently for her, Catherine said with tears in her eyes, and
in a tone at once dignified and impassioned:

"SIR,--I beseech you, for all the love that hath been between us, and
for the love of God, let me have justice and right; take some pity on
me, for I am a poor woman and a stranger, born out of your dominions.
I have here no assured friend, much less impartial counsel, and I flee
to you as to the head of justice within this realm. Alas! Sir, wherein
have I offended you, or what occasion given you of displeasure, that
you should wish to put me from you? I take God and all the world to
witness, that I have been to you a true, humble, and obedient wife,
ever conformable to your will and pleasure. Never have I said or done
aught contrary thereto, being always well pleased and content with all
things wherein you had delight; neither did I ever grudge in word or
countenance, or show a visage or spark of discontent. I loved all
those whom you loved, only for your sake. This twenty years I have
been your true wife, and by me ye have had divers children, although
it hath pleased God to call them out of this world, which yet hath
been no default in me."

  [986] The king's letter to his ambassadors at Rome, 23rd June. Ibid.
  Records, p. liv.

  [987] Personas judicum non solum regi devinctas verum et subjectas
  esse. (Sanders, p. 35.) Her judges were not only in the interest of
  the king, but were even his subjects.

[Sidenote: THE QUEEN WITHDRAWS.]

The judges, and even the most servile of the courtiers, were touched
when they heard these simple and eloquent words, and the queen's
sorrow moved them almost to tears. Catherine continued:--

"SIR,--When ye married me at the first, I take God to be my judge I
was a true maid; and whether it be true or not, I put it to your
conscience.... If there be any just cause that ye can allege against
me, I am contented to depart from your kingdom, albeit to my great
shame and dishonour; and if there be none, then let me remain in my
former estate until death. Who united us? The king, your father, who
was called the second Solomon; and my father, Ferdinand, who was
esteemed one of the wisest princes that, for many years before, had
reigned in Spain. It is not, therefore, to be doubted that the
marriage between you and me is good and lawful. Who are my judges? Is
not one the man that has put sorrow between you and me?[988]... a
judge whom I refuse and abhor!--Who are the councillors assigned me?
Are they not officers of the crown, who have made oath to you in your
own council?... Sir, I conjure you not to call me before a court so
formed. Yet, if you refuse me this favour ... your will be done.... I
shall be silent, I shall repress the emotions of my soul, and remit my
just cause to the hands of God."

  [988] Qui dissensionem inter ipsam et virum suum. (Polyd. Virg. p.
  688.) Who put dissension between her and her husband.

Thus spoke Catherine through her tears;[989] humbly bending, she
seemed to embrace Henry's knees. She rose and made a low obeisance to
the king. It was expected that she would return to her seat; but
leaning on the arm of Griffiths, her receiver-general, she moved
towards the door. The king, observing this, ordered her to be
recalled; and the usher following her, thrice cried aloud: "Catherine,
queen of England, come into court."--"Madam," said Griffiths, "you are
called back."--"I hear it well enough," replied the queen, "but go you
on, for this is no court wherein I can have justice: let us proceed."
Catherine returned to the palace, and never again appeared before the
court either by proxy or in person.[990]

  [989] Hæc illa flebiliter dicente. Polyd. Virg. p. 686, and Cavendish.

  [990] Burnet, Records, p. 36. In this letter the king says: Both we
  and the queen appeared in person.

She had gained her cause in the minds of many. The dignity of her
person, the quaint simplicity of her speech, the propriety with which,
relying upon her innocence, she had spoken of the most delicate
subjects, and the tears which betrayed her emotion, had created a deep
impression. But "the sting in her speech," as an historian says,[991]
was her appeal to the king's conscience, and to the judgment of
Almighty God, on the capital point in the cause. "How could a person
so modest, so sober in her language," said many, "dare utter such a
falsehood? Besides, the king did not contradict her."

  [991] Fuller, p. 173.

[Sidenote: HENRY JUSTIFIES HIMSELF.]

Henry was greatly embarrassed: Catherine's words had moved him.
Catherine's defence, one of the most touching in history, had gained
over the accuser himself. He therefore felt constrained to render this
testimony to the accused: "Since the queen has withdrawn, I will, in
her absence, declare to you all present, that she has been to me as
true and obedient a wife as I could desire. She has all the virtues
and good qualities that belong to a woman. She is as noble in
character as in birth."

But Wolsey was the most embarrassed of all. When the queen had said,
without naming him, that one of her judges was the cause of all her
misfortunes, looks of indignation were turned upon him.[992] He was
unwilling to remain under the weight of this accusation. As soon as
the king had finished speaking, he said: "Sir, I humbly beg your
majesty to declare before this audience, whether I was the first or
chief mover in this business." Wolsey had formerly boasted to Du
Bellay, "that the first project of the divorce was set on foot by
himself, to create a perpetual separation between the houses of
England and Spain;"[993] but now it suited him to affirm the contrary.
The king, who needed his services, took care not to contradict him.
"My lord cardinal," he said, "I can well excuse you herein. Marry, so
far from being a mover, ye have been rather against me in attempting
thereof. It was the bishop of Tarbes, the French ambassador, who begot
the first scruples in my conscience by his doubts on the legitimacy of
the princess Mary." This was not correct. The bishop of Tarbes was not
in England before the year 1527, and we have proofs that the king was
meditating a divorce in 1526.[994] "From that hour," he continued, "I
was much troubled, and thought myself in danger of God's heavy
displeasure, who, wishing to punish my incestuous marriage, had taken
away all the sons my wife had borne me. I laid my grief before you, my
lord of Lincoln, then being my ghostly father; and by your advice I
asked counsel of the rest of the bishops, and you all informed me
under your seals, that you shared in my scruples."--"That is the
truth," said the archbishop of Canterbury.--"No, Sir, not so, under
correction," quoth the bishop of Rochester, "you have not my hand and
seal."--"No?" exclaimed the king, showing him a paper which he held in
his hand; "is not this your hand and seal?"--"No, forsooth," he
answered. Henry's surprise increased, and turning with a frown to the
archbishop of Canterbury, he asked him: "What say you to that?" "Sir,
it is his hand and seal," replied Warham.--"It is not," rejoined
Rochester; "I told you I would never consent to any such act."--"You
say the truth," responded the archbishop, "but you were fully resolved
at the last, that I should subscribe your name and put your
seal."--"All which is untrue," added Rochester, in a passion. The
bishop was not very respectful to his primate. "Well, well," said the
king, wishing to end the dispute, "we will not stand in argument with
you; for you are but one man."[995] The court adjourned. The day had
been better for Catherine than for the prelates.

  [992] Vidisses Wolseum infestis fere omnium oculis conspici. (Polyd.
  Virg. p. 688.) You might see almost all eyes indignantly turned on
  Wolsey.

  [993] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, pp. 186, 319.

  [994] See Pace's letter to Henry in 1526. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 1.
  Pace there shows that it is incorrect to say: _Deuteronomium abrogare
  Leviticum_ (Deuteronomy abrogates Leviticus), so far as concerns the
  prohibition to take the wife of a deceased brother.

  [995] Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 223.

In proportion as the first sitting had been pathetic, so the
discussions in the second between the lawyers and bishops were
calculated to revolt a delicate mind. The advocates of the two parties
vigorously debated pro and con respecting the consummation of Arthur's
marriage with Catherine. "It is a very difficult question," said one
of the counsel; "none can know the truth."--"But I know it," replied
the bishop of Rochester.--"What do you mean?" asked Wolsey.--"My
lord," he answered, "he was the very Truth who said: '_What God hath
joined together, let not man put asunder_' that is enough for
me."--"So everybody thinks," rejoined Wolsey; "but whether it was God
who united Henry of England and Catherine of Aragon, _hoc restat
probandum_, that remains to be proved. The king's council decides that
the marriage is unlawful, and consequently it was not _God who joined
them together_." The two bishops then exchanged a few words less
edifying than those of the preceding day. Several of the hearers
expressed a sentiment of disgust. "It is a disgrace to the court,"
said Doctor Ridley with no little indignation, "that you dare discuss
questions which fill every right-minded man with horror." This sharp
reprimand put an end to the debate.

[Sidenote: MESSAGE OF THE MAID OF KENT.]

The agitations of the court spread to the convents; priests, monks,
and nuns were every where in commotion. It was not long before
astonishing revelations began to circulate through the cloisters.
There was no talk then of an old portrait of the Virgin that winked
its eyes; but other miracles were invented. "An angel," it was
rumoured, "has appeared to Elizabeth Barton, the maid of Kent, as he
did formerly to Adam, to the patriarchs, and to Jesus Christ." At the
epochs of the creation and of the redemption, and in the times which
lead from one to the other, miracles are natural; God then appeared,
and his coming without any signs of power, would be as surprising as
the rising of the sun unattended by its rays of light. But the Romish
Church does not stop there; it claims in every age, for its saints,
the privilege of miraculous powers, and the miracles are multiplied in
proportion to the ignorance of the people. And accordingly the angel
said to the epileptic maid of Kent: "Go to the unfaithful king of
England, and tell him there are three things he desires, which I
forbid now and for ever. The first is the power of the pope; the
second the new doctrine; the third Anne Boleyn. If he takes her for
his wife, God will visit him." The vision-seeing maid delivered the
message to the king,[996] whom nothing could now stop.

  [996] She showed this unto the king. Letter to Cromwell in Strype,
  vol. i. p. 272.

[Sidenote: A HOT DAY.]

On the contrary, he began to find out that Wolsey proceeded too
slowly, and the idea sometimes crossed his mind that he was betrayed
by this minister. One fine summer's morning, Henry as soon as he rose
summoned the cardinal to him at Bridewell. Wolsey hastened thither,
and remained closeted with the king from eleven till twelve. The
latter gave way to all the fury of his passion and the violence of his
despotism. "We must finish this matter promptly," he said, "we must
positively." Wolsey retired very uneasy, and returned by the Thames to
Westminster. The sun darted his bright rays on the water. The bishop
of Carlisle, who sat by the cardinal's side, remarked, as he wiped his
forehead: "A very warm day, my lord."--"Yes," replied the unhappy
Wolsey, "if you had been _chafed_ for an hour as I have been, you
would say it was a _hot_ day." When he reached his palace, the
cardinal lay down on his bed to seek repose; he was not quiet long.

Catherine had grown in Henry's eyes, as well as in those of the
nation. The king shrank from a judgment; he even began to doubt of his
success. He wished that the queen would consent to a separation. This
idea occurred to his mind after Wolsey's departure, and the cardinal
had hardly closed his eyes before the Earl of Wiltshire (Anne Boleyn's
father) was announced to him with a message from the king. "It is his
majesty's pleasure," said Wiltshire, "that you represent to the queen
the shame that will accrue to her from a judicial condemnation, and
persuade her to confide in his wisdom." Wolsey, commissioned to
execute a task he knew to be impossible, exclaimed: "Why do you put
such fancies in the king's head?" and then he spoke so reproachfully
that Wiltshire, with tears in his eyes, fell on his knees beside the
cardinal's bed.[997] Boleyn, desirous of seeing his daughter queen of
England, feared perhaps that he had taken a wrong course. "It is
well," said the cardinal, recollecting that the message came from
Henry VIII, "I am ready to do every thing to please his majesty." He
rose, went to Bath-Place to fetch Campeggio, and together they waited
on the queen.

  [997] Cavendish, p. 226.

[Sidenote: THE LEGATES VISIT THE QUEEN.]

The two legates found Catherine quietly at work with her maids of
honour. Wolsey addressed the queen in Latin: "Nay, my lord," she said,
"speak to me in English; I wish all the world could hear you."--"We
desire, madam, to communicate to _you alone_ our counsel and
opinion."--"My lord," said the queen, "you are come to speak of things
beyond my capacity;" and then, with noble simplicity, showing a skein
of red silk hanging about her neck, she continued: "These are my
occupations, and all that I am capable of. I am a poor woman, without
friends in this foreign country, and lacking wit to answer persons of
wisdom as ye be; and yet, my lords, to please you, let us go to my
withdrawing room."

At these words the queen rose, and Wolsey gave her his hand. Catherine
earnestly maintained her rights as a woman and a queen. "We who were
in the outer chamber," says Cavendish, "from time to time could hear
the queen speaking very loud, but could not understand what she said."
Catherine, instead of justifying herself, boldly accused her judge. "I
know, Sir Cardinal," she said with noble candour, "I know who has
given the king the advice he is following: it is you. I have not
ministered to your pride--I have blamed your conduct--I have
complained of your tyranny, and my nephew the emperor has not made you
pope.... Hence all my misfortunes. To revenge yourself you have
kindled a war in Europe, and have stirred up against me this most
wicked matter. God will be my judge.... and yours!" Wolsey would have
replied, but Catherine haughtily refused to hear him, and while
treating Campeggio with great civility, declared that she would not
acknowledge either of them as her judge. The cardinals withdrew,
Wolsey full of vexation, and Campeggio beaming with joy, for the
business was getting more complicated. Every hope of accommodation was
lost: nothing remained now but to proceed judicially.




CHAPTER IX.

     The Trial resumed--Catherine Summoned--Twelve Articles--The
     Witnesses' Evidence--Arthur and Catherine really
     married--Campeggio opposes the Argument of Divine
     Right--Other Arguments--The legates required to deliver
     judgment--Their Tergiversations--Change in men's
     minds--Final Session--General Expectation--Adjournment
     during Harvest--Campeggio Excuses this impertinence--The
     King's indignation--Suffolk's violence--Wolsey's Reply--He
     is ruined--General Accusations--The Cardinal turns to an
     Episcopal Life.


[Sidenote: THE TRIAL RESUMED.]

The trial was resumed. The bishop of Bath and Wells waited upon the
queen at Greenwich, and peremptorily summoned her to appear in the
parliament-chamber.[998] On the day appointed Catherine limited
herself to sending an appeal to the pope. She was declared
contumacious, and the legates proceeded with the cause.

  [998] In quadam superiori camera: _the queen'a dining-chamber_,
  nuncupata, 26 die mensis junii Rymer. Acta. p. 119.

Twelve articles were prepared, which were to serve for the examination
of the witnesses, and the summary of which was, that the marriage of
Henry with Catherine, being forbidden both by the law of God and of
the church, was null and void.[999]

  [999] Divino, ecclesiastico jure....nullo omnino et invalidum.
  Herbert, p. 163.

The hearing of the witnesses began, and Dr. Taylor, archdeacon of
Buckingham, conducted the examination. Their evidence, which would now
be taken only with closed doors, may be found in Lord Herbert of
Cherbury's History of Henry VIII. The duke of Norfolk, high-treasurer
of England, the duke of Suffolk, Maurice St. John, gentleman-carver to
Prince Arthur, the Viscount Fitzwalter and Anthony Willoughby, his
cup-bearers, testified to their being present on the morrow of the
wedding at the breakfast of the prince, then in sound health, and
reported the conversation that took place.[1000] The old duchess of
Norfolk, the earl of Shrewsbury, and the marquis of Dorset, confirmed
these declarations, which proved that Arthur and Catherine were really
married. It was also called to mind that, at the time of Arthur's
death, Henry was not permitted to take the title of prince of Wales,
because Catherine hoped to give an heir to the crown of England.[1001]

  [1000] Quod Arthurus mane postridie potum flagitaret, idquo ut
  alebant, quoniam diceret se ilia nocte in calida Hispaniarum regione
  peregrinatum fuisse, Sanders, p. 43.

  [1001] Foxe, v, p. 51.

[Sidenote: SECONDARY ARGUMENTS.]

"If Arthur and Catherine were really married," said the king's
counsellors after these extraordinary depositions, "the marriage of
this princess with Henry, Arthur's brother, was forbidden by the
divine law, by an express command of God contained in Leviticus, and
no dispensation could permit what God had forbidden." Campeggio would
never concede this argument, which limited the right of the popes; it
was necessary therefore to abandon the _divine right_ (which was in
reality to lose the cause), and to seek in the bull of Julius II and
in his famous brief for flaws that would invalidate them both;[1002]
and this the king's counsel did, although they did not conceal the
weakness of their position. "The motive alleged in the dispensation,"
they said, "is the necessity of preserving a cordial relation between
Spain and England; now, there was nothing that threatened their
harmony. Moreover, it is said in this document that the pope grants it
at the prayer of Henry, prince of Wales. Now as this prince was only
thirteen years old, he was not of age to make such a request. As for
the brief, it is found neither in England nor in Rome; we cannot
therefore admit its authenticity." It was not difficult for
Catherine's friends to invalidate these objections. "Besides," they
added, "a union that has lasted twenty years, sufficiently establishes
its own lawfulness. And will you declare the Princess Mary
illegitimate, to the great injury of this realm?"

  [1002] Herbert gives them at length, pp. 264-267.

The king's advocates then changed their course. Was not the Roman
legate provided with a decretal pronouncing the divorce, in case it
should be proved that Arthur's marriage had been really consummated?
Now, this fact had been proved by the depositions. "This is the moment
for delivering judgment," said Henry and his counsellors to Campeggio.
"Publish the pope's decretal." But the pope feared the sword of
Charles V, then hanging over his head; and accordingly, whenever the
king advanced one step, the Romish prelate took several in an opposite
direction. "I will deliver judgment in _five_ days," said he; and when
the five days were expired, he bound himself to deliver it in six.
"Restore peace to my troubled conscience," exclaimed Henry. The legate
replied in courtly phrase; he had gained a few days' delay, and that
was all he desired.

[Sidenote: DIFFERENT OPINIONS.]

Such conduct on the part of the Roman legate produced an unfavourable
effect in England, and a change took place in the public mind. The
first movement had been for Catherine; the second was for Henry.
Clement's endless delays and Campeggio's stratagems exasperated the
nation. The king's argument was simple and popular: "The pope cannot
dispense with the laws of God;" while the queen, by appealing to the
authority of the Roman pontiff, displeased both high and low. "No
precedent," said the lawyers, "can justify the king's marriage with
his brother's widow."

There were, however, some evangelical Christians who thought Henry was
"troubled" more by his passions than by his conscience; and they asked
how it happened that a prince, who represented himself to be so
disturbed by the possible transgression of a law of doubtful
interpretation, could desire, after twenty years, to violate the
indisputable law which forbade the divorce?... On the 21st of July,
the day fixed _ad concludendum_, the cause was adjourned until the
Friday following, and no one doubted that the matter would then be
terminated.

All prepared for this important day. The king ordered the dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk to be present at the sitting of the court; and
being himself impatient to hear the so much coveted judgment, he stole
into a gallery of the parliament-chamber facing the judges.

[Sidenote: THE LEGATE'S REASONS.]

The legates of the holy see having taken their seats, the
attorney-general signified to them, "that every thing necessary for
the information of their conscience having been judicially laid before
them, that day had been fixed for the conclusion of the trial." There
was a pause; everyone feeling the importance of this judgment, waited
for it with impatience. "Either the papacy pronounces my divorce from
Catherine," the king had said, "or I shall divorce myself from the
papacy." That was the way Henry put the question. All eyes, and
particularly the king's, were turned on the judges; Campeggio could
not retreat; he must now say _yes_ or _no_. For some time he was
silent. He knew for certain that the queen's appeal had been admitted
by Clement VII and that the latter had concluded an alliance with the
emperor. It was no longer in his power to grant the king's request.
Clearly foreseeing that a _no_ would perhaps forfeit the power of Rome
in England, while a _yes_ might put an end to the plans of religious
emancipation which alarmed him so much, he could not make up his mind
to say either _yes_ or _no_.

At last the nuncio rose slowly from his chair, and all the assembly
listened with emotion to the oracular decision which for so many years
the powerful king of England had sought from the Roman pontiff. "The
general vacation of the harvest and vintage," he said, "being observed
every year by the court of Rome, dating from to-morrow the 24th of
July, the beginning of the dog-days, we adjourn, to some future
period, the conclusion of these pleadings."[1003]

  [1003] Feriæ generales messium et vindemiarum. (Herbert, p. 278;
  Cavendish, p. 229) The general vacation of harvest and vintage.

The auditors were thunderstruck. "What! because the _malaria_ renders
the air of Rome dangerous at the end of July; and compels the Romans
to close their courts, must a trial be broken off on the banks of the
Thames, when its conclusion is looked for so impatiently?" The people
hoped for a judicial sentence, and they were answered with a jest; it
was thus Rome made sport of Christendom. Campeggio, to disarm Henry's
wrath, gave utterance to some noble sentiments; but his whole line of
conduct raises legitimate doubts as to his sincerity. "The queen," he
said, "denies the competency of the court; I must therefore make my
report to the pope, who is the source of life and honour, and wait his
sovereign orders. I have not come so far to please any man, be he king
or subject. I am an old man, feeble and sickly, and fear none but the
Supreme Judge, before whom I must soon appear. I therefore adjourn
this court until the 1st of October."

It was evident that this adjournment was only a formality intended to
signify the definitive rejection of Henry's demand. The same custom
prevails in the British legislature.

The king, who from his place of concealment had heard Campeggio's
speech, could scarcely control his indignation. He wanted a regular
judgment; he clung to forms; he desired that his cause should pass
successfully through all the windings of ecclesiastical procedure, and
yet here it is wrecked upon the vacations of the Romish court. Henry
was silent, however, either from prudence, or because surprise
deprived him of the power of speech, and he hastily left the gallery.

[Sidenote: SUFFOLK'S VIOLENCE.]

Norfolk, Suffolk, and the other courtiers, did not follow him. The
king and his ministers, the peers and the people, and even the clergy,
were almost unanimous, and yet the pope pronounced his _veto_. He
humbled the Defender of the Faith to flatter the author of the sack of
Rome. This was too much. The impetuous Suffolk started from his seat,
struck his hand violently on the table in front of him, cast a
threatening look upon the judges and exclaimed: "By the mass, the old
saying is confirmed to-day, that no cardinal has ever brought good to
England."[1004]--"Sir, of all men in this realm," replied Wolsey, "you
have the least cause to disparage cardinals, for if I, poor cardinal,
had not been, you would not have had a head on your shoulders."[1005]
It would seem that Wolsey pacified Henry, at the time of the duke's
marriage with the Princess Mary. "I cannot pronounce sentence,"
continued Wolsey, "without knowing the good pleasure of his holiness."
The two dukes and the other noblemen left the hall in anger, and
hastened to the palace.[1006] The legates, remaining with their
officers, looked at each other for a few moments. At last Campeggio,
who alone had remained calm during this scene of violence, arose, and
the audience dispersed.

  [1004] Mensam quæ proponebatur magno ictu concutiens: Per sacram,
  inquit, missam, nemo unquam legatorum aut cardinalium quicquam boni ad
  Angliam apportavit. Sanders, p. 49.

  [1005] Cavendish, p. 233.

  [1006] Duces ex judicio discedentes, ut ipsi omnibus iracundiæ flammis
  urebantur. Sanders, p. 49.

Henry did not allow himself to be crushed by this blow. Rome, by her
strange proceedings, aroused in him that suspicious and despotic
spirit, of which he gave such tragic proofs in after-years. The papacy
was making sport of him. Clement and Wolsey tossed his divorce from
one to the other like a ball which, now at Rome and now at London,
seemed fated to remain perpetually in the air. The king thought he had
been long enough the plaything of his holiness and of the crafty
cardinal; his patience was exhausted, and he resolved to show his
adversaries that Henry VIII was more than a match for these bishops.
We shall find him seizing this favourable opportunity, and giving an
unexpected solution to the matter.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY ACCUSED BY ALL.]

Wolsey sorrowfully hung his head; by taking part with the nuncio and
the pope, he had signed the warrant of his own destruction. So long as
Henry had a single ray of hope, he thought proper still to dissemble
with Clement VII; but he might vent all his anger on Wolsey. From the
period of the _Roman Vacations_ the cardinal was ruined in his
master's mind. Wolsey's enemies seeing his favour decline, hastened to
attack him. Suffolk and Norfolk in particular, impatient to get rid of
an insolent priest who had so long chafed their pride, told Henry that
Wolsey had been continually playing false; they went over all his
negotiations month by month and day by day, and drew the most
overwhelming conclusions from them. Sir William Kingston and Lord
Manners laid before the king one of the cardinal's letters which Sir
Francis Bryan had obtained from the papal archives. In it the
cardinal desired Clement to spin out the divorce question, and finally
to oppose it, seeing (he added) that if Henry was separated from
Catherine, a friend to the reformers would become queen of
England.[1007] This letter clearly expressed Wolsey's inmost thoughts:
Rome at any price ... and perish England and Henry rather than the
popedom! We can imagine the king's anger.

  [1007] Edm. Campion _De divortio_. Herbert, p. 289.

Anne Boleyn's friends were not working alone. There was not a person
at court whom Wolsey's haughtiness and tyranny had not offended; no
one in the king's council in whom his continual intrigues had not
raised serious suspicions. He had (they said) betrayed in France the
cause of England; kept up in time of peace and war secret intelligence
with Madam, mother of Francis I; received great presents from
her;[1008] oppressed the nation, and trodden under foot the laws of
the kingdom. The people called him _Frenchman_ and _traitor_, and all
England seemed to vie in throwing burning brands at the superb edifice
which the pride of this prelate had so laboriously erected.[1009]

  [1008] Du Bellay's Letters, Le Grand, Preuves, p. 374.

  [1009] Novis etiam furoris et insaniæ facibus incenderunt. (Sanders,
  p. 49.) They burned with new brands of rage and madness.

Wolsey was too clearsighted not to discern the signs of his
approaching fall. "Both the rising and the setting sun (for thus an
historian calls Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon) frowned upon
him,"[1010] and the sky, growing darker around him, gave token of the
storm that was to overwhelm him. If the _cause_ failed, Wolsey
incurred the vengeance of the king; if it succeeded, he would be
delivered up to the vengeance of the Boleyns, without speaking of
Catherine's, the emperor's and the pope's. Happy Campeggio! thought
the cardinal, he has nothing to fear. If Henry's favour is withdrawn
from him, Charles and Clement will make him compensation. But Wolsey
lost every thing when he lost the king's good graces. Detested by his
fellow-citizens, despised and hated by all Europe, he saw to whatever
side he turned nothing but the just reward of his avarice and
falseness. He strove in vain, as on other occasions, to lean on the
ambassador of France; Du Bellay was solicited on the other side. "I am
exposed here to such a heavy and continual fire that I am half dead,"
exclaimed the bishop of Bayonne;[1011] and the cardinal met with an
unusual reserve in his former confidant.

  [1010] Fuller, p. 176.

  [1011] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 15th June. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 324.

Yet the crisis approached. Like a skilful but affrighted pilot,
Wolsey cast his eyes around him to discover a port in which he could
take refuge. He could find none but his see of York. He therefore
began once more to complain of the fatigues of power, of the weariness
of the diplomatic career, and to extol the sweetness of an episcopal
life. On a sudden he felt a great interest about the flock of whom he
had never thought before. Those around him shook their heads, well
knowing that such a retreat would be to Wolsey the bitterest of
disgraces. One single idea supported him; if he fell, it would be
because he had clung more to the pope than to the king: he would be
the martyr of his faith.--What a faith, what a martyr!




CHAPTER X.

     Anne Boleyn at Hever--She Reads the Obedience of a Christian
     Man--is recalled to Court--Miss Gainsford and George
     Zouch--Tyndale's Book converts Zouch--Zouch in the
     Chapel-Royal--The Book seized--Anne applies to Henry--The
     King reads the Book--Pretended Influence of the Book on
     Henry--The Court at Woodstock--The Park and its
     Goblins--Henry's Esteem for Anne.


[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN AT HEVER.]

While these things were taking place Anne was living at Hever Castle
in retirement and sadness. Scruples from time to time still alarmed
her conscience. It is true, the king represented to her unceasingly
that his salvation and the safety of his people demanded the
dissolution of a union condemned by the divine law, and that what he
solicited several popes had granted. Had not Alexander VI annulled,
after ten years, the marriage of Ladislaus and Beatrice of Naples? Had
not Louis XII, the father of his people, been divorced from Joan of
France? Nothing was more common, he said, than to see the divorce of a
prince authorized by a pope; the security of the state must be
provided for before every thing else. Carried away by these arguments
and dazzled by the splendour of a throne, Anne Boleyn consented to
usurp at Henry's side the rank belonging to another. Yet, if she was
imprudent and ambitious, she was feeling and generous, and the
misfortunes of a queen whom she respected soon made her reject with
terror the idea of taking her place. The fertile pastures of Kent and
the gothic halls of Hever Castle were by turns the witnesses of the
mental conflicts this young lady experienced. The fear she entertained
of seeing the queen again, and the idea that the two cardinals, her
enemies, were plotting her ruin, made her adopt the resolution of not
returning to court, and she shut herself up in her solitary chamber.

[Sidenote: ANNE RECALLED TO COURT.]

Anne had neither the deep piety of a Bilney, nor the somewhat vague
and mystic spirituality observable in Margaret of Valois; it was not
feeling which prevailed in her religion, it was knowledge, and a
horror of superstition and pharisaism. Her mind required light and
activity, and at that time she sought in reading the consolations so
necessary to her position. One day she opened one of the books
prohibited in England, which a friend of the Reformation had given
her: _The Obedience of a Christian Man_. Its author was William
Tyndale, that invisible man whom Wolsey's agents were hunting for in
Brabant and Germany, and this was a recommendation to Anne. "If thou
believe the promises," she read, "then God's truth justifieth thee;
that is, forgiveth thy sins and sealeth thee with his Holy Spirit. If
thou have true faith, so seest thou the exceeding and infinite love
and mercy which God hath shown thee freely in Christ: then must thou
needs love again: and love cannot but compel thee to work. If when
tyrants oppose thee thou have power to confess, then art thou sure
that thou art safe.[1012] If thou be fallen from the way of truth,
come thereto again and thou art safe. Yea, Christ shall save thee, and
the angels of heaven shall rejoice at thy coming."[1013] These words
did not change Anne's heart, but she marked with her nail, as was her
custom,[1014] other passages which struck her more, and which she
desired to point out to the king if, as she hoped, she was ever to
meet him again. She believed that the truth was there, and took a
lively interest in those whom Wolsey, Henry, and the pope were at that
time persecuting.

  [1012] Tyndale and Fryth's Works, vol. i. 295.

  [1013] Tyndale's Works, vol. i. p. 300.

  [1014] Wyatt's Memoirs, p. 438.

Anne was soon dragged from these pious lessons, and launched into the
midst of a world full of dangers. Henry, convinced that he had nothing
to expect henceforward from Campeggio, neglected those proprieties
which he had hitherto observed, and immediately after the adjournment
ordered Anne Boleyn to return to court; he restored her to the place
she had formerly occupied, and even surrounded her with increased
splendour. Every one saw that Anne, in the king's mind, was queen of
England; and a powerful party was formed around her, which, proposed
to accomplish the definitive ruin of the cardinal.

[Sidenote: MISS GAINSFORD AND GEORGE ZOUCH.]

After her return to court, Anne read much less frequently _The
Obedience of a Christian Man_ and the _Testament of Jesus Christ_.
Henry's homage, her friends' intrigues, and the whirl of festivities,
bade fair to stifle the thoughts which solitude had aroused in her
heart. One day having left Tyndale's book in a window, Miss Gainsford,
a fair young gentlewoman[1015] attached to her person, took it up and
read it. A gentleman of handsome mien, cheerful temper, and extreme
mildness, named George Zouch, also belonging to Anne's household, and
betrothed to Miss Gainsford, profiting by the liberty his position
gave him, indulged sometimes in "love tricks."[1016] On one occasion
when George desired to have a little talk with her, he was annoyed to
find her absorbed by a book of whose contents he knew nothing; and
taking advantage of a moment when the young lady had turned away her
head, he laughingly snatched it from her. Miss Gainsford ran after
Zouch to recover her book; but just at that moment she heard her
mistress calling her, and she left George, threatening him with her
finger.

  [1015] Strype, i. p. 171.

  [1016] Ibid. p. 172.

As she did not return immediately, George withdrew to his room, and
opened the volume; it was the _Obedience of a Christian Man_. He
glanced over a few lines, then a few pages, and at last read the book
through more than once. He seemed to hear the voice of God. "I feel
the Spirit of God," he said, "speaking in my heart as he has spoken in
the heart of him who wrote the book."[1017] The words which had only
made a temporary impression on the preoccupied mind of Anne Boleyn,
penetrated to the heart of her equerry and converted him. Miss
Gainsford, fearing that Anne would ask for her book, entreated George
to restore it to her; but he positively refused, and even the young
lady's tears failed to make him give up a volume in which he had found
the life of his soul. Becoming more serious, he no longer jested as
before; and when Miss Gainsford peremptorily demanded the book, he
was, says the chronicler, "ready to weep himself."

  [1017] Ibid.

Zouch, finding in this volume an edification which empty forms and
ceremonies could not give, used to carry it with him to the king's
chapel. Dr. Sampson, the dean, generally officiated; and while the
choir chanted the service, George would be absorbed in his book, where
he read: "If when thou seest the celebration of the sacrament of the
Lord's Supper, thou believest in this promise of Christ: _This is my
body that is broken for you_, and if thou have this promise fast in
thine heart, thou art saved and justified thereby; thou eatest his
body and drinkest his blood. If not, so helpeth it thee not, though
thou hearest a thousand masses in a day: no more than it should help
thee in a dead thirst to behold a bush at a tavern door, if thou
knewest not thereby that there was wine within to be sold."[1018] The
young man dwelt upon these words: by faith he ate the body and drank
the blood of the Son of God. This was what was passing in the palaces
of Henry VIII; there were saints in the household of Cæsar.

  [1018] Tyndale and Fryth's Works, vol. i. p. 286.

[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN BEFORE THE KING.]

Wolsey, desirous of removing from the court everything that might
favour the Reformation, had recommended extreme vigilance to Dr.
Sampson so as to prevent the circulation of the innovating books.
Accordingly, one day when George was in the chapel absorbed in his
book, the dean, who, even while officiating, had not lost sight of the
young man, called him to him after the service, and rudely taking the
book from his hands, demanded: "What is your name, and in whose
service are you?" Zouch having replied, the dean withdrew with a very
angry look, and carried his prey to the cardinal.

When Miss Gainsford heard of this mishap, her grief was extreme; she
trembled at the thought that the _Obedience of a Christian Man_ was in
Wolsey's hands. Not long after this, Anne having asked for her book,
the young lady fell on her knees, confessed all, and begged to be
forgiven.[1019] Anne uttered not a word of reproach; her quick mind
saw immediately the advantage she might derive from this affair.
"Well," said she, "it shall be the dearest book to them that ever the
dean or cardinal took away."

  [1019] She on her knees told it all. Strype, vol. i. p. 172.

"The noble lady," as the chronicler styles her, immediately demanded
an interview of the king, and on reaching his presence she fell at his
feet,[1020] and begged his assistance. "What is the matter, Anne,"
said the astonished monarch. She told him what had happened, and Henry
promised that the book should not remain in Wolsey's hands.

  [1020] Upon her knees she desireth the king's help for her book. Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE KING READS TYNDALE'S BOOK.]

Anne had scarcely quitted the royal apartments when the cardinal
arrived with the famous volume, with the intention of complaining to
Henry of certain passages which he knew could not fail to irritate
him, and to take advantage of it even to attack Anne, if the king
should be offended.[1021] Henry's icy reception closed his mouth; the
king confined himself to taking the book, and bowing out the cardinal.
This was precisely what Anne had hoped for. She begged the king to
read the book, which he promised to do.

  [1021] Wyatt's Memoirs, p. 411.

And Henry accordingly shut himself up in his closet, and read the
_Obedience of a Christian Man_. There were few works better calculated
to enlighten him, and none, after the Bible, that has had more
influence upon the Reformation in England. Tyndale treated of
_obedience_, "the essential principle," as he terms it, "of every
political or religious community." He declaimed against the unlawful
power of the popes, who usurped the lawful authority of Christ and of
his Word. He professed political-doctrines too favourable doubtless to
absolute power, but calculated to show that the reformers were not, as
had been asserted, instigators of rebellion. Henry read as follows:--

"The king is in the room of God in this world. He that resisteth the
king, resisteth God; he that judgeth the king, judgeth God. He is the
minister of God to defend thee from a thousand inconveniences; though
he be the greatest tyrant in the world, yet is he unto thee a great
benefit of God; for it is better to pay the tenth than to lose all,
and to suffer wrong of one man than of every man."[1022]

  [1022] Tyndale's Works, edited by Russel, vol. i. p. 212

These are indeed strange doctrines for _rebels_ to hold, thought the
king; and he continued:--

"Let kings, if they had lever [rather] be Christians in deed than so
to be called, give themselves altogether to the wealth [well-being] of
their realms after the ensample of Jesus Christ; remembering that the
people are God's, and not theirs; yea, are Christ's inheritance,
bought with his blood. The most despised person in his realm (if he is
a Christian) is equal with him in the kingdom of God and of Christ.
Let the king put off all pride, and become a brother to the poorest of
his subjects."[1023]

  [1023] Ibid. p. 233.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE'S DOCTRINE ON KINGS.]

It is probable that these words were less satisfactory to the king. He
kept on reading:--

"Emperors and kings are nothing now-a-days, but even hangmen unto the
pope and bishops, to kill whomsoever they condemn, as Pilate was unto
the scribes and pharisees and high bishops to hang Christ."[1024]

  [1024] Ibid. p. 274.

This seemed to Henry rather strong language.

"The pope hath received no other authority of Christ than to preach
God's word. Now, this word should rule only, and not bishops' decrees
or the pope's pleasure. _In præsentia majoris cessat potestas
minoris_, in the presence of the greater, the less hath no
power.[1025] The pope, against all the doctrine of Christ, which
saith, _My kingdom is not of this world_, hath usurped the right of
the emperor. Kings must make account of their doings only to
God.[1026] No person may be exempt from this ordinance of God; neither
can the profession of monks and friars, or anything that the popes or
bishops can lay for themselves, except them from the sword of the
emperor or king, if they break the laws. For it is written, (Rom.
xiii.) Let every soul submit himself unto the authority of the higher
powers."[1027]

  [1025] Tyndale's Works, p. 243.

  [1026] Ibid. p. 220.

  [1027] Ibid. p. 213.

"What excellent reading!" exclaimed Henry, when he had finished; "this
is truly a book for all kings to read, and for me particularly."[1028]

  [1028] Strype, i. p. 172.

Captivated by Tyndale's work, the king began to converse with Anne
about the church and the pope; and she who had seen Margaret of Valois
unassumingly endeavour to instruct Francis I strove in like manner to
enlighten Henry VIII. She did not possess the influence over him she
desired; this unhappy prince was, to the very end of his life, opposed
to the evangelical reformation; protestants and catholics have been
equally mistaken when they have regarded him as being favourable to
it. "In a short time," says the annalist quoted by Strype at the end
of his narrative, "the king, by the help of this virtuous lady, had
his eyes opened to the truth. He learned to seek after that truth, to
advance God's religion and glory, to detest the pope's doctrine, his
lies, his pomp, and pride, and to deliver his subjects from the
Egyptian darkness and Babylonian bonds that the pope had brought him
and his subjects under. Despising the rebellions of his subjects and
the rage of so many mighty potentates abroad, he set forward a
religious reformation, which, beginning with the triple-crowned head,
came down to all the members of the hierarchy." History has rarely
delivered a more erroneous judgment. Henry's eyes were never opened to
the truth, and it was not he who made the Reformation. It was
accomplished first of all by Scripture, and then by the ministry of
simple and faithful men baptized of the Holy Ghost.

[Sidenote: THE COURT AT WOODSTOCK.]

Yet Tyndale's book and the conduct of the legates had given rise in
the king's mind to new thoughts which he sought time to mature. He
desired also to conceal his anger from Wolsey and Campeggio, and
dissipate his _spleen_, says the historian Collyer; he therefore gave
orders to remove the court to the palace of Woodstock. The magnificent
park attached to this royal residence, in which was the celebrated
bower constructed (it is said) by Henry II to conceal the fair
Rosamond, offered all the charms of the promenade, the chase, and
solitude.[1029] Hence he could easily repair to Langly, Grafton, and
other country seats. It was not long before the entertainments,
horse-races, and other rural sports began. The world with its
pleasures and its grandeur, were at the bottom the idols of Anne
Boleyn's heart; but yet she felt a certain attraction for the new
doctrine, which was confounded in her mind with the great cause of all
knowledge, perhaps even with her own. More enlightened than the
generality of women, she was distinguished by the superiority of her
understanding not only over her own sex, but even over many of the
gentlemen of the court. While Catherine, a member of the third order
of St. Francis, indulged in trifling practices, the more intelligent,
if not more pious Anne, cared but little for amulets which the friars
had blessed, for apparitions, or visions of angels. Woodstock
furnished her with an opportunity of curing Henry VIII of the
superstitious ideas natural to him. There was a place in the forest
said to be haunted by evil spirits; not a priest or a courtier dared
approach it. A tradition ran that if a king ventured to cross the
boundary, he would fall dead. Anne resolved to take Henry there.
Accordingly, one morning she led the way in the direction of the place
where these mysterious powers manifested their presence (as it was
said) by strange apparitions; they entered the wood; they arrived at
the so much dreaded spot; all hesitated; but Anne's calmness reassured
her companions; they advanced; they found ... nothing but trees and
turf, and, laughing at their former terrors, they explored every
corner of this mysterious resort of the evil spirits. Anne returned to
the palace, congratulating herself on the triumph Henry had gained
over his imaginary fears.[1030] This prince, who could as yet bear
with superiority in others, was struck with Anne Boleyn's.

  [1029] The letters from the king's secretaries Gardiner and Tuke to
Wolsey, dated Woodstock, run from 4th August to 8th September. State
Papers, i. p. 335-347.

  [1030] Foxe, v. p. 136; Miss Benger's life of Anne Boleyn, p. 299.

    Never too gay nor yet too melancholy,
    A heavenly mind is hers, like angels holy.
    None purer ever soared above the sky.
    O mighty Marvel, thus may every eye
    See of what monster strange the humble serf am I;

    Monster indeed, for in her frame divine
    A woman's form, man's heart, and angel's head combine.[1031]

  [1031]

    Jamais trop gay, ne trop melancolique,
    Elle a au chef un esprit angelique,
    Le plus subtil qui onc au ciel vola.
    O grand' merveille! on peut voir par cela
    Que je suis serf d'un monstre fort etrange:
    Monstre je dy, car pour tout vray elle a
    Corps feminin, coeur d'homme et tete d'ange

These verses of Clement Marot, written in honour of Margaret of
Valois, faithfully express what Henry then felt for Anne, who had been
with Marot in the household of that princess. Henry's love may perhaps
have deceived him, as to Anne's excellencies.




CHAPTER XI.

     Embarrassment of the pope--The Triumphs of Charles decide
     him--He traverses the Cause to Rome--Wolsey's
     Dejection--Henry's Wrath--His fears--Wolsey obtains
     comfort--Arrival of the two Legates at Grafton--Wolsey's
     reception by Henry--Wolsey and Norfolk at Dinner--Henry with
     Anne--Conference between the King and the Cardinal--Wolsey's
     Joy and Grief--The Supper at Euston--Campeggio's Farewell
     Audience--Wolsey's Disgrace--Campeggio at Dover--He is
     accused by the courtiers--Leaves England--Wolsey foresees
     his own Fall and that of the Papacy.


[Sidenote: EMBARRASSMENT OF THE POPE.]

While the court was thus taking its pleasure at Woodstock, Wolsey
remained in London, a prey to the acutest anguish. "This avocation to
Rome," wrote he to Gregory De Casale, "will not only completely
alienate the king and his realm from the apostolic see, but will ruin
me utterly."[1032] This message had hardly reached the pope, before
the imperial ambassadors handed to him the queen's protest, and added
in a very significant tone: "If your holiness does not call this cause
before you, the emperor, who is determined to bring it to an end, will
have recourse to _other arguments_." The same perplexity always
agitated Clement: Which of the two must be sacrificed, Henry or
Charles? Anthony de Leyva, who commanded the imperial forces, having
routed the French army, the pope no longer doubted that Charles was
the elect of Heaven. It was not Europe alone which acknowledged this
prince's authority; a new world had just laid its power and its gold
at his feet. The formidable priest-king of the Aztecs had been unable
to withstand Cortez; could the priest-king of Rome withstand Charles
V? Cortez had returned from Mexico, bringing with him Mexican chiefs
in all their barbarous splendour, with thousands of _pesos_, with gold
and silver and emeralds of extraordinary size, with magnificent
tissues and birds of brilliant plumage. He had accompanied Charles,
who was then going to Italy, to the place of embarkation, and had sent
to Clement VII costly gifts of the precious metals, valuable jewels,
and a troop of Mexican dancers, buffoons, and jugglers, who charmed
the pope and the cardinal above all things.[1033]

  [1032] Non solum regium animum et totum hoc regnum a sedis apostolicæ
  devotione penitus abalienabit, ac me omnino perdet et funditus
  destruet. State Papers, vii, p. 189.

  [1033] Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, book vii, chap. iv.

[Sidenote: PEACE BETWEEN CLEMENT AND CHARLES.]

Clement, even while refusing Henry's prayer, had not as yet granted
the emperor's. He thought he could now resist no longer the star of a
monarch victorious over two worlds, and hastened to enter into
negotiations with him. Sudden terrors still assailed him from time to
time: My refusal (he said to himself) may perhaps cause me to lose
England. But Charles, holding him in his powerful grasp, compelled him
to submit. Henry's antecedents were rather encouraging to the pontiff.
How could he imagine that a prince, who alone of all the monarchs of
Europe had once contended against the great reformer, would now
separate from the popedom? On the 6th of July Clement declared to the
English envoys that he _avoked to Rome_ the cause between Henry VIII
and Catherine of Aragon. In other words, this was refusing the
divorce. "There are twenty three points in this case," said the
courtiers, "and the debate on the first has lasted a year; before the
end of the trial, the king will be not only past marrying but past
living."[1034]

  [1034] Fuller, p. 178.

When he learned that the fatal blow had been struck, Bennett in a tone
of sadness exclaimed: "Alas! most holy father, by this act the Church
in England will be utterly destroyed; the king declared it to me with
tears in his eyes."[1035]--"Why is it my fortune to live in such evil
days?" replied the pope, who, in his turn, began to weep;[1036] "but I
am encircled by the emperor's forces, and if I were to please the
king, I should draw a fearful ruin upon myself and upon the church....
God will be my judge."

  [1035] Burnet, Records, ii, p. 37.

  [1036] Ibid.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S ANGER.]

On the 15th of July Da Casale sent the fatal news to the English
minister. The king was cited before the pope, and in case of refusal
condemned in a fine of 10,000 ducats. On the 18th of July peace was
proclaimed at Rome between the pontiff and the emperor, and on the
next day (these dates are important) Clement, wishing still to make
one more attempt to ward off the blow with which the papacy was
threatened, wrote to Cardinal Wolsey: "My dear son, how can I describe
to you my affliction? Show in this matter the prudence which so
distinguishes you, and preserve the king in those kindly feelings
which he has ever manifested towards me."[1037] A useless attempt! Far
from saving the papacy, Wolsey was to be wrecked along with it.

  [1037] Ut dictum regem in solita erga nos benevolentia retinere velis.
  Burnet, Records, ii. p. xxxviii.

Wolsey was thunderstruck. At the very time he was assuring Henry of
the attachment of Clement and Francis, both were deserting him. The
"politic handling" failed, which the cardinal had thought so skilful,
and which had been so torturous. Henry now had none but enemies on the
continent of Europe, and the Reformation was daily spreading over his
kingdom. Wolsey's anguish cannot be described. His power, his pomp,
his palaces were all threatened; who could tell whether he would even
preserve his liberty and his life.--A just reward for so much
duplicity.

[Sidenote: HENRY CONCEALS HIS AFFRONT.]

But the king's wrath was to be greater than even the minister's alarm.
His terrified servants wondered how they should announce the pontiff's
decision. Gardiner, who, after his return from Rome, had been named
secretary of state, went down to Langley on the 3rd of August to
communicate it to him. What news for the proud Tudor! The decision on
the divorce was forbidden in England; the cause avoked to Rome, there
to be buried and unjustly lost; Francis I treating with the emperor;
Charles and Clement on the point of exchanging at Bologna the most
striking signs of their unchangeable alliance; the services rendered
by the king to the popedom repaid with the blackest ingratitude; his
hope of giving an heir to the crown disgracefully frustrated; and
last, but not least, Henry VIII, the proudest monarch of Christendom,
summoned to Rome to appear before an ecclesiastical tribunal ... it
was too much for Henry. His wrath, a moment restrained, burst forth
like a clap of thunder,[1038] and all trembled around him. "Do they
presume," he exclaimed, "to try my cause elsewhere than in my own
dominions? I, the king of England, summoned before an Italian
tribunal!... Yes, ... I will go to Rome, but it shall be with such a
mighty army that the pope, and his priests, and all Italy shall be
struck with terror.[1039]--I forbid the letters of citation to be
executed," he continued; "I forbid the commission to consider its
functions at an end." Henry would have desired to tear off Campeggio's
purple robes, and throw this prince of the Roman church into prison,
in order to frighten Clement; but the very magnitude of the insult
compelled him to restrain himself. He feared above all things to
appear humbled in the eyes of England, and he hoped, by showing
moderation, to hide the affront he had received. "Let everything be
done," he told Gardiner, "to conceal from my subjects these letters of
citation, which are so hurtful to my glory. Write to Wolsey that I
have the greatest confidence in his dexterity, and that he ought, by
good handling, to win over Campeggio[1040] and the queen's
counsellors, and, above all, prevail upon them at any price not to
serve these citatory letters on me." But Henry had hardly given his
instructions when the insult of which he had been the object recurred
to his imagination; the thought of Clement haunted him night and day,
and he swore to exact a striking vengeance from the pontiff. Rome
desires to have no more to do with England.... England in her turn
will cast off Rome. Henry will sacrifice Wolsey, Clement, and the
church; nothing shall stop his fury. The crafty pontiff has concealed
his game, the king shall beat him openly; and from age to age the
popedom shall shed tears over the imprudent folly of a medici.

  [1038] He became much incensed. Herbert, p. 187. Supra quam dici
  potest excanduit Sanders, p. 50.

  [1039] He would do the same with such a mayn [great] and army royal,
  as should be formidable to the pope and all Italy. State Papers, vii.
  p. 194; Burnet, Records, p. xxxvii.

  [1040] Your grace's dexterity ... by good handling of the cardinal
  Campeggio. State Papers, vol. 1. p. 336.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S DISFAVOUR.]

Thus after insupportable delays which had fatigued the nation, a
thunderbolt fell upon England. Court, clergy, and people, from whom it
was impossible to conceal these great events, were deeply stirred, and
the whole kingdom was in commotion. Wolsey, still hoping to ward off
the ruin impending over both himself and the papacy, immediately put
in play all that dexterity which Henry had spoken of; he so far
prevailed that the letters citatorial were not served on the king, but
only the brief addressed to Wolsey by Clement VII.[1041] The cardinal,
all radiant with this trivial success, and desirous of profiting by it
to raise his credit, resolved to accompany Campeggio, who was going
down to Grafton to take leave of the king. When the coming of the two
legates was heard of at court, the agitation was very great. The dukes
of Norfolk and Suffolk regarded this proceeding as the last effort of
their enemy, and entreated Henry not to receive him. "The king will
receive him," said some. "The king will not receive him," answered
others. At length one Sunday morning it was announced that the
prelates were at the gates of the mansion. Wolsey looked round with an
anxious eye for the great officers who were accustomed to introduce
him. They appeared, and desired Campeggio to follow them. When the
legate had been taken to his apartments, Wolsey waited his turn; but
great was his consternation on being informed that there was no
chamber appointed for him in the palace. Sir Henry Norris, groom of
the stole, offered Wolsey the use of his own room, and the cardinal
followed him, almost sinking beneath the humiliation he had
undergone.[1042] He made ready to appear before the king, and
summoning up his courage, proceeded to the presence-chamber.

  [1041] Ibid. p. 343.

  [1042] Cavendish, p. 237-245.

The lords of the council were standing in a row according to their
rank; Wolsey, taking off his hat, passed along saluting each of them
with affected civility. A great number of courtiers arrived, impatient
to see how Henry would receive his old favourite; and most of them
were already exulting in the striking disgrace of which they hoped to
be witnesses. At last the king was announced.

Henry stood under the cloth of state; and Wolsey advanced and knelt
before him. Deep silence prevailed throughout the chamber.... To the
surprise of all, Henry stooped down and raised him up with both
hands.... Then, with a pleasing smile, he took Wolsey to the window,
desired him to put on his hat, and talked familiarly with him. "Then,"
says Cavendish, the cardinal's gentleman usher, "it would have made
you smile to behold the countenances of those who had laid wagers that
the king would not speak with him."

But this was the last ray of evening which then lighted up the
darkening fortunes of Wolsey: the star of his favour was about to set
for ever.... The silence continued, for every one desired to catch a
few words of the conversation. The king seemed to be accusing Wolsey,
and Wolsey to be justifying himself. On a sudden Henry pulled a letter
out of his bosom, and showing it to the cardinal, said in a loud
voice: "How can that be? is not this your hand?" It was no doubt the
letter which Bryan had intercepted. Wolsey replied in an under-tone,
and seemed to have appeased his master. The dinner hour having
arrived, the king left the room telling Wolsey that he would not fail
to see him again; the courtiers were eager to make their profoundest
reverences to the cardinal, but he haughtily traversed the chamber,
and the dukes hastened to carry to Anne Boleyn the news of this
astonishing reception.

Wolsey, Campeggio, and the lords of the council sat down to dinner.
The cardinal, well aware that the terrible letter would be his utter
ruin, and that Henry's good graces had no other object than to prepare
his fall, began to hint at his retirement. "Truly," said he with a
devout air, "the king would do well to send his bishops and chaplains
home to their cures and benefices." The company looked at one another
with astonishment. "Yea, marry," said the duke of Norfolk somewhat
rudely, "and so it were meet for you to do also."--"I should be very
well contented therewith," answered Wolsey, "if it were the king's
pleasure to license me with leave to go to my cure at Winchester."--
"Nay, to your benefice at York, where your greatest honour and charge
is," replied Norfolk, who was not willing that Wolsey should be living
so near Henry.--"Even as it shall please the king," added Wolsey, and
changed the subject of conversation.

[Sidenote: HENRY AND ANNE BOLEYN.]

Henry had caused himself to be announced to Anne Boleyn, who (says
Cavendish) "kept state at Grafton more like a queen than a simple
maid." Possessing extreme sensibility, and an ardent imagination,
Anne, who felt the slightest insult with all the sensibility of her
woman's heart, was very dissatisfied with the king after the report of
the dukes. Accordingly, heedless of the presence of the attendants,
she said to him: "Sir, is it not a marvellous thing to see into what
great danger the cardinal hath brought you with all your
subjects?"--"How so, sweetheart?" asked Henry. Anne continued: "Are
you ignorant of the hatred his exactions have drawn upon you? There is
not a man in your whole realm of England worth one hundred pounds, but
he hath made you his debtor." Anne here alluded to the loan the king
had raised among his subjects. "Well, well," said Henry, who was not
pleased with these remarks, "I know that matter better than you."--"If
my lord of Norfolk, my lord of Suffolk, my uncle, or my father had
done much less than the cardinal hath done," continued Anne, "they
would have lost their heads ere this." "Then I perceive," said Henry,
"you are none of his friends."--"No, sir, I have no cause, nor any
that love you," she replied. The dinner was ended; the king, without
appearing at all touched, proceeded to the presence-chamber where
Wolsey expected him.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S LAST INTERVIEW.]

After a long conversation, carried on in a low tone, the king took
Wolsey by the hand and led him into his private chamber. The courtiers
awaited impatiently the termination of an interview which might decide
the fate of England; they walked up and down the gallery, often
passing before the door of the closet, in the hope of catching from
Wolsey's looks, when he opened it, the result of this secret
conference; but one quarter of an hour followed another, these became
hours, and still the cardinal did not appear. Henry having resolved
that this conversation should be the last, was no doubt collecting
from his minister all the information necessary to him. But the
courtiers imagined he was returning into his master's favour; Norfolk,
Suffolk, Wiltshire, and the other enemies of the prime minister, began
to grow alarmed, and hastened off to Anne Boleyn, who was their last
hope.

It was night when the king and Wolsey quitted the royal closet; the
former appeared gracious, the latter satisfied; it was always Henry's
custom to smile on those he intended to sacrifice. "I shall see you in
the morning," he said to the cardinal with a friendly air. Wolsey made
a low bow, and, turning round to the courtiers, saw the king's smile
reflected on their faces. Wiltshire, Tuke, and even Suffolk, were full
of civility. "Well," thought he, "the motion of such weathercocks as
these shows me from what quarter the wind of favour is blowing."[1043]

  [1043] Burnet's Ref. vol. i, p. 59.

But a moment after the wind began to change. Men with torches waited
for the cardinal at the gates of the palace to conduct him to the
place where he would have to pass the night. Thus he was not to sleep
beneath the same roof with Henry. He was to lie at Euston, one of
Empson's houses, about three miles off. Wolsey, repressing his
vexation, mounted his horse, the footmen preceded him with their
links, and after an hour's riding along very bad roads, he reached the
lodging assigned him.

[Sidenote: THE KING'S FAREWELL TO WOLSEY.]

He had sat down to supper, to which some of his most intimate friends
had been invited, when suddenly Gardiner was announced. Gardiner owed
every thing to the cardinal, and yet he had not appeared before him
since his return from Rome. He comes no doubt to play the hypocrite
and the spy, thought Wolsey. But as soon as the secretary entered,
Wolsey rose, made him a graceful compliment, and prayed him to take a
seat. "Master Secretary," he asked, "where have you been since your
return from Rome?"--"I have been following the court from place to
place."--"You have been hunting then? Have you any dogs?" asked the
prime minister, who knew very well what Gardiner had been doing in the
king's closet. "A few," replied Gardiner. Wolsey thought that even the
secretary was a bloodhound on his track. And yet after supper he took
Gardiner aside, and conversed with him until midnight. He thought it
prudent to neglect nothing that might clear up his position; and
Wolsey sounded Gardiner, just as he himself had been sounded by Henry
not long before.

The same night at Grafton the king gave Campeggio a farewell audience,
and treated him very kindly, "by giving him presents and other
matters," says Du Bellay. Henry then returned to Anne Boleyn. The
dukes had pointed out to her the importance of the present moment; she
therefore asked and obtained of Henry, without any great difficulty,
his promise never to speak to his minister again.[1044] The insults of
the papacy had exasperated the king of England, and as he could not
punish Clement, he took his revenge on the cardinal.

  [1044] Du Bellay to the Grand Master. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 375; also
  Cavendish.

The next morning, Wolsey, impatient to have the interview which Henry
had promised, rode back early to Grafton. But as he came near, he met
a numerous train of servants and sumpter-horses; and presently
afterwards Henry, with Anne Boleyn and many lords and ladies of the
court, came riding up. "What does all this mean?" thought the cardinal
in dismay. "My lord," said the king, as he drew near, "I cannot stay
with you now. You will return to London with cardinal Campeggio." Then
striking the spurs into his horse, Henry galloped off with a friendly
salutation. After him came Anne Boleyn, who rode past Wolsey with head
erect, and casting on him a proud look. The court proceeded to
Hartwell Park, where Anne had determined to keep the king all day.
Wolsey was confounded. There was no room for doubt; his disgrace was
certain. His head swam, he remained immovable for an instant, and then
recovered himself; but the blow he had received had not been
unobserved by the courtiers, and the cardinal's fall became the
general topic of conversation.

After dinner, the legates departed, and on the second day reached Moor
Park, a mansion built by Archbishop Neville, one of Wolsey's
predecessors, who for high treason had been first imprisoned at
Calais, and afterwards at Ham. These recollections were by no means
agreeable to Wolsey. The next morning the two cardinals separated,
Campeggio proceeded to Dover and Wolsey to London.

[Sidenote: CAMPEGGIO SEARCHED AT DOVER.]

Campeggio was impatient to get out of England, and great was his
annoyance, on reaching Dover, to find that the wind was contrary. But
a still greater vexation was in reserve. He had hardly lain down to
rest himself, before his door was opened, and a band of sergeants
entered the room. The cardinal, who knew what scenes of this kind
meant in Italy, thought he was a dead man,[1045] and fell trembling at
his chaplain's feet begging for absolution. Meantime the officers
opened his luggage, broke into his chests, scattered his property
about the floor, and even shook out his clothes.[1046]

  [1045] Le Grand, vol. ii. p. 156. Life of Campeggio, by Sigonius.

  [1046] Sarcinas excuti jussit. Sanders, p. 51.

Henry's tranquility had not been of long duration. "Campeggio is the
bearer of letters from Wolsey to Rome," whispered some of the
courtiers; "who knows but they contain treasonable matter?" "There is,
too, among his papers the famous _decretal_ pronouncing the divorce,"
said one; "if we had but that document it would finish the business."
Another affirmed that Campeggio "had large treasure with him of my
lord's (Wolsey's) to be conveyed in great tuns to Rome,"[1047] whither
it was surmised the cardinal of York would escape to enjoy the fruits
of his treason. "It is certain," added a third, "that Campeggio,
assisted by Wolsey, has been able to procure your majesty's
correspondence with Anne Boleyn, and is carrying it away with him."
Henry, therefore, sent a messenger after the nuncio, with orders that
his baggage should be thoroughly searched.

  [1047] Cavendish, p. 216. See also Le Grand, ii. 258

Nothing was found, neither letters, nor bull, nor treasures. The bull
had been destroyed; the treasures Wolsey had never thought of
intrusting to his colleague; and the letters of Anne and Henry,
Campeggio had sent on before by his son Rodolph, and the pope was
stretching out his hands to receive them, proud, like his successors,
of the robbery committed by two of his legates.

Campeggio being reassured, and seeing that he was neither to be killed
nor robbed, made a great noise at this act of violence, and at the
insulting remarks which had given rise to it. "I will not leave
England," he caused Henry to be informed, "until I have received
satisfaction." "My lord forgets that he is legate no longer," replied
the king, "since the pope has withdrawn his power; he forgets,
besides, that, as bishop of Salisbury, he is my subject; as for the
remarks against him and the cardinal of York, it is a liberty the
people of England are accustomed to take, and which I cannot put
down." Campeggio, anxious to reach France, was satisfied with these
reasons, and soon forgot all his sorrows at the sumptuous table of
cardinal Duprat.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S DESOLATION.]

Wolsey was not so fortunate. He had seen Campeggio go away, and
remained like a wrecked seaman thrown on a desert isle, who has seen
depart the only friends capable of giving him any help. His necromancy
had forewarned him that this would be a fatal year.[1048] The angel of
the maid of Kent had said: "Go to the cardinal and announce his fall,
because he has not done what you had commanded him to do."[1049] Other
voices besides hers made themselves heard: the hatred of the nation,
the contempt of Europe, and, above all, Henry's anger, told him that
his hour was come. It was true the pope said, that he would do all in
his power to save him;[1050] but Clement's good offices would only
accelerate his ruin. Du Bellay, whom the people believed to be the
cardinal's accomplice, bore witness to the change that had taken place
in men's minds. While passing on foot through the streets of the
capital, followed by two valets, "his ears were so filled with coarse
jests as he went along," he said, "that he knew not which way to
turn."[1051] "The cardinal is utterly undone," he wrote; "and I see
not how he can escape." The idea occurred to Wolsey, from time to
time, to pronounce the divorce himself; but it was too late. He was
even told that his life was in danger. Fortune, blind and bald, her
foot on the wheel, fled rapidly from him, nor was it in his power to
stop her. And this was not all: after him (he thought) there was no
one who could uphold the church of the pontiffs in England. The ship
of Rome was sailing on a stormy sea among rocks and shoals; Wolsey at
the helm looked in vain for a port of refuge; the vessel leaked on
every side; it was rapidly sinking, and the cardinal uttered a cry of
distress. Alas! he had desired to save Rome, but Rome would not have
it so.

  [1048] He had learnt of his necromancy that this would be a jeopardous
  year for him. Tyndale's Works, i, p. 480.

  [1049] Strype. i. p. 373.

  [1050] Herbert, p. 289.

  [1051] Du Bellay to Montmorency. 12th October. Le Grand, Preuves,
  p.365.




CHAPTER XII.

     A Meeting at Waltham--Youth of Thomas Cranmer--His early
     Education--Studies Scripture for Three Years--His functions
     as Examiner--The Supper at Waltham--New View of the
     Divorce--Fox communicates it to Henry--Cranmer's
     Vexation--Conference with the King--Cranmer at the Boleyns.


[Sidenote: THOMAS CRANMER.]

As Wolsey's star was disappearing in the West in the midst of stormy
clouds, another was rising in the East, to point out the way to save
Britain. Men, like stars, appear on the horizon at the command of God.

On his return from Woodstock to Greenwich, Henry stopped full of
anxiety at Waltham in Essex. His attendants were lodged in the houses
of the neighbourhood. Fox, the almoner, and Secretary Gardiner, were
quartered on a gentleman named Cressy, at Waltham Abbey. When supper
was announced, Gardiner and Fox were surprised to see an old friend
enter the room. It was Thomas Cranmer, a Cambridge doctor. "What! is
it you?" they said, "and how came you here?" "Our host's wife is my
relation," replied Cranmer, "and as the epidemic is raging at
Cambridge, I brought home my friend's sons, who are under my care." As
this new personage is destined to play an important part in the
history of the Reformation, it may be worth our while to interrupt our
narrative, and give a particular account of him.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S FIRST MARRIAGE.]

Cranmer was descended from an ancient family, which came into England,
as is generally believed, with the Conqueror. He was born at Aslacton
in Nottinghamshire on the 2nd of July 1489, six years after Luther.
His early education had been very much neglected; his tutor, an
ignorant and severe priest, had taught him little else than patiently
to endure severe chastisement--a knowledge destined to be very useful
to him in after-life. His father was an honest country gentleman, who
cared for little besides hunting, racing, and military sports. At this
school, the son learnt to ride, to handle the bow and the sword, to
fish, and to hawk; and he never entirely neglected these exercises,
which he thought essential to his health. Thomas Cranmer was fond of
walking, of the charms of nature, and of solitary meditations; and a
hill, near his father's mansion, used often to be shown where he was
wont to sit, gazing on the fertile country at his feet, fixing his
eyes on the distant spires, listening with melancholy pleasure to the
chime of the bells, and indulging in sweet contemplations. About 1504,
he was sent to Cambridge, where "barbarism still prevailed," says an
historian.[1052] His plain, noble, and modest air conciliated the
affections of many, and, in 1510, he was elected fellow of Jesus
College. Possessing a tender heart, he became attached, at the age of
twenty-three, to a young person of good birth (says Foxe,) or of
inferior rank, as other writers assert. Cranmer was unwilling to
imitate the disorderly lives of his fellow-students, and although
marriage would necessarily close the career of honours, he married the
young lady, resigned his fellowship (in conformity with the
regulations), and took a modest lodging at the Dolphin. He then began
to study earnestly the most remarkable writings of the times,
polishing, it has been said, his old asperity on the productions of
Erasmus, of Lefevre of Etaples, and other great authors; every day his
crude understanding received new brilliancy.[1053] He then began to
teach in Buckingham (afterwards Magdalene) College, and thus provided
for his wants.

  [1052] Fæda barbaries. Melch. Adam. Vitæ Theol. i.

  [1053] Ad eos non aliter quam ad cotem, quotidie priscam detergebat
  scabritiem. (Ibid.) Coming to them as to a whetstone, he daily rubbed
  off his old asperity.

[Sidenote: CRANMER ON THE DIVORCE.]

His lessons excited the admiration of enlightened men, and the anger
of obscure ones, who disdainfully called him (because of the inn at
which he lodged) _the hostler_. "This name became him well," said
Fuller, "for in his lessons he roughly rubbed the backs of the friars,
and famously curried the hides of the lazy priests." His wife dying a
year after his marriage, Cranmer was re-elected fellow of his old
college, and the first writing of Luther's having appeared, he said:
"I must know on which side the truth lies. There is only one
infallible source, the Scriptures; in them I will seek for God's
truth."[1054] And for three years he constantly studied the holy
books,[1055] without commentary, without human theology, and hence he
gained the name of the _Scripturist_. At last his eyes were opened; he
saw the mysterious bond which unites all biblical revelations, and
understood the completeness of God's design. Then without forsaking
the Scriptures, he studied all kinds of authors.[1056] He was a slow
reader, but a close observer;[1057] he never opened a book without
having a pen in his hand.[1058] He did not take up with any particular
party or age; but possessing a free and philosophic mind, he weighed
all opinions in the balance of his judgment,[1059] taking the Bible
for his standard.

  [1054] Behold the very fountains. Foxe, viii, p. 4.

  [1055] Totum triennium Sacræ Scripturæ monumentis periegendis
  impendit. M. Adam. p. 1.

  [1056] Like a merchant greedy of all good things. Foxe. viii, p. 4.

  [1057] Tardus quidem lector sed vehemens observator. M. Adam. p. 1.

  [1058] Sine calamo nunquam ad scriptoris eujusquam librum accessit. M.
  Adam. p. 1.

  [1059] Omnes omnium opiniones tacito secum judicio trutinabat. Ibid.

Honours soon came upon him; he was made successively doctor of
divinity, professor, university preacher, and examiner. He used to say
to the candidates for the ministry: "Christ sendeth his hearers to the
Scriptures, and not to the church."[1060]--"But," replied the monks,
"they are so difficult."--"Explain the obscure passages by those which
are clear," rejoined the professor, "Scripture by Scripture. Seek,
pray, _and he who has the key of David_ will open them to you." The
monks, affrighted at this task, withdrew bursting with anger; and
erelong Cranmer's name was a name of dread in every convent. Some,
however, submitted to the labour, and one of them, Doctor Barret,
blessed God that the examiner had turned him back; "for," said he, "I
found the knowledge of God in the holy book he compelled me to study."
Cranmer toiled at the same work as Latimer, Stafford, and Bilney.

  [1060] Cranmer's Works, p. 17, 18.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S CHARACTER.]

Fox and Gardiner having renewed acquaintance with their old friend at
Waltham Abbey, they sat down to table, and both the almoner and the
secretary asked the doctor what he thought of the divorce. It was the
usual topic of conversation, and not long before, Cranmer had been
named member of a commission appointed to give their opinion on this
affair. "You are not in the right path," said Cranmer to his friends;
"you should not cling to the decisions of the church. There is a surer
and a shorter way which alone can give peace to the king's
conscience."--"What is that?" they both asked. "The true question is
this," replied Cranmer: "_What says the Word of God?_ If God has
declared a marriage of this nature _bad_, the pope cannot make it
_good_. Discontinue these interminable Roman negotiations. When God
has spoken man must obey."--"But how shall we know what God has
said?"--"Consult the universities; they will discern it more surely
than Rome."

This was a new view. The idea of consulting the universities had been
acted upon before; but then their own opinions only had been demanded;
now, the question was simply to know _what God says in his word_. "The
word of God is above the church," was the principle laid down by
Cranmer, and in that principle consisted the whole of the
Reformation. The conversation at the supper-table of Waltham was
destined to be one of those secret springs which an invisible Hand
sets in motion for the accomplishment of his great designs. The
Cambridge doctor, suddenly transported from his study to the foot of
the throne, was on the point of becoming one of the principal
instruments of Divine wisdom.

The day after this conversation, Fox and Gardiner arrived at
Greenwich, and the king summoned them into his presence the same
evening. "Well, gentlemen," he said to them, "our holidays are over;
what shall we do now? If we still have recourse to Rome, God knows
when we shall see the end of this matter."[1061]--"It will not be
necessary to take so long a journey," said Fox; "we know a shorter and
surer way."--"What is it?" asked the king eagerly.--"Doctor Cranmer,
whom we met yesterday at Waltham, thinks that the Bible should be the
sole judge in your cause." Gardiner, vexed at his colleague's
frankness, desired to claim all the honour of this luminous idea for
himself; but Henry did not listen to him. "Where is Doctor Cranmer?"
said he, much affected.[1062] "Send, and fetch him immediately. Mother
of God! (this was his customary oath) this man has the right sow by
the ear.[1063] If this had only been suggested to me two years ago,
what expense and trouble I should have been spared."

  [1061] God knows, and not I. Foxe, viii, 7.

  [1062] Burnet, vol. i, p. 60.

  [1063] Ibid.

Cranmer had gone into Nottinghamshire; a messenger followed and
brought him back. "Why have you entangled me in this affair?" he said
to Fox and Gardiner. "Pray make my excuses to the king." Gardiner, who
wished for nothing better, promised to do all he could; but it was of
no use. "I will have no excuses," said Henry. The wily courtier was
obliged to make up his mind to introduce the ingenuous and upright
man, to whom that station, which he himself had so coveted, was one
day to belong. Cranmer and Gardiner went down to Greenwich, both alike
dissatisfied.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S INTERVIEW WITH HENRY.]

Cranmer was then forty years of age, with pleasing features, and mild
and winning eyes, in which the candour of his soul seemed to be
reflected. Sensible to the pains as well as to the pleasures of the
heart, he was destined to be more exposed than other men to anxieties
and falls; a peaceful life in some remote parsonage would have been
more to his taste than the court of Henry VIII. Blessed with a
generous mind, unhappily he did not possess the firmness necessary in
a public man; a little stone sufficed to make him stumble. His
excellent understanding showed him the better way; but his great
timidity made him fear the more dangerous. He was rather too fond of
relying upon the power of men, and made them unhappy concessions with
too great facility. If the king had questioned him, he would never
have dared advise so bold a course as that he had pointed out; the
advice had slipped from him at table during the intimacy of familiar
conversation. Yet he was sincere, and after doing everything to escape
from the consequences of his frankness, he was ready to maintain the
opinion he had given.

Henry, perceiving Cranmer's timidity, graciously approached him. "What
is your name," said the king endeavouring to put him at his ease? "Did
you not meet my secretary and my almoner at Waltham?" And then he
added: "Did you not speak to them of my great affair?"--repeating the
words ascribed to Cranmer. The latter could not retreat: "Sir, it is
true, I did say so."--"I see," replied the king with animation, "that
you have found the breach through which we must storm the fortress.
Now, Sir doctor, I beg you, and as you are my subject I command you,
to lay aside every other occupation, and to bring my cause to a
conclusion in conformity with the ideas you have put forth. All that I
desire to know is, whether my marriage is contrary to the laws of God
or not. Employ all your skill in investigating the subject, and thus
bring comfort to my conscience as well as to the queen's."[1064]

  [1064] For the discharging of both our consciences. Foxe, VIII, p. 8.

Cranmer was confounded; he recoiled from the idea of deciding an
affair on which depended, it might be, the destinies of the nation,
and sighed after the lonely fields of Aslacton. But grasped by the
vigorous hand of Henry, he was compelled to advance. "Sir," said he,
"pray intrust this matter to doctors more learned than I am."--"I am
very willing," answered the king, "but I desire that you will also
give me your opinion in writing." And then summoning the earl of
Wiltshire to his presence, he said to him: "My lord, you will receive
Doctor Cranmer into your house at Durham Place, and let him have all
necessary quiet to compose a report for which I have asked him." After
this precise command, which admitted of no refusal, Henry withdrew.

[Sidenote: CRANMER MEETS ANNE BOLEYN.]

In this manner was Cranmer introduced by the king to Anne Boleyn's
father, and not, as some Romanist authors have asserted, by Sir
Thomas Boleyn to the king.[1065] Wiltshire conducted Cranmer to Durham
House (now the Adelphi in the Strand,) and the pious doctor on whom
Henry had imposed these quarters, soon contracted a close friendship
with Anne and her father, and took advantage of it to teach them the
value of the Divine word, as _the pearl of great price_.[1066] Henry,
while profiting by the address of a Wolsey and a Gardiner, paid little
regard to the men; but he respected Cranmer, even when opposed to him
in opinion, and until his death placed the learned doctor above all
his courtiers and all his clerks. The pious man often succeeds better,
even with the great ones of this world, than the ambitious and the
intriguing.

  [1065] Sanders, p. 57; Lingard, vol. vi. chap. iii. Compare Foxe, vol.
  viii, p. 8.

  [1066] Teque nobilis illius margaritæ desiderio teneri. Erasm. Epp. p.
  1754.




CHAPTER XIII.

     Wolsey in the Court of Chancery--Accused by the
     Dukes--Refuses to give up the Great Seal--His Despair--He
     gives up the Seal--Order to depart--His
     Inventory--Alarm--The Scene of Departure--Favourable Message
     from the King--Wolsey's Joy--His Fool--Arrival at Esher.


While Cranmer was rising notwithstanding his humility, Wolsey was
falling in despite of his stratagems. The cardinal still governed the
kingdom, gave instructions to ambassadors, negotiated with princes,
and filled his sumptuous palaces with his haughtiness. The king could
not make up his mind to turn him off; the force of habit, the need he
had of him, the recollection of the services Henry had received from
him, pleaded in his favour. Wolsey without the seals appeared almost
as inconceivable as the king without his crown. Yet the fall of one of
the most powerful favourites recorded in history was inevitably
approaching, and we must now describe it.

[Sidenote: THE CARDINAL'S LAST SITTING.]

On the 9th of October, after the Michaelmas vacation, Wolsey, desirous
of showing a bold face, went and opened the high court of chancery
with his accustomed pomp; but he noticed, with uneasiness, that none
of the king's servants walked before him, as they had been accustomed
to do. He presided on the bench with an inexpressible depression of
spirits, and the various members of the court sat before him with an
absent air; there was something gloomy and solemn in this sitting, as
if all were taking part in a funeral: it was destined indeed to be the
last act of the cardinal's power. Some days before (Foxe says on the
1st of October) the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with other lords of
the privy-council, had gone down to Windsor, and denounced to the king
Wolsey's unconstitutional relations with the pope, his usurpations,
"his robberies, and the discords sown by his means between Christian
princes."[1067] Such motives would not have sufficed; but Henry had
stronger. Wolsey had not kept any of his promises in the matter of the
divorce; it would even appear that he had advised the pope to
excommunicate the king, and thus raise his people against him.[1068]
This enormity was not at that time known by the prince; it is even
probable that it did not take place until later. But Henry knew
enough, and he gave his attorney-general, Sir Christopher Hales,
orders to prosecute Wolsey.

  [1067] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 22nd October. Le Grand, Preuves. p.
  377.

  [1068] Range, Deutsche Geschichte, iii. p. 140.

Whilst the heart-broken cardinal was displaying his authority for the
last time in the court of chancery, the attorney-general was accusing
him in the King's Bench for having obtained papal bulls conferring on
him a jurisdiction which encroached on the royal power; and calling
for the application of the penalties of _præmunire_. The two dukes
received orders to demand the seals from Wolsey; and the latter,
informed of what had taken place, did not quit his palace on the 10th,
expecting every moment the arrival of the messengers of the king's
anger; but no one appeared.

The next day the two dukes arrived: "It is the king's good pleasure,"
said they to the cardinal, who remained seated in his arm-chair, "that
you give up the broad seal to us and retire to Esher" (a country-seat
near Hampton Court.) Wolsey, whose presence of mind never failed him,
demanded to see the commission under which they were acting. "We have
our orders from his majesty's mouth," said they.--"That may be
sufficient for you," replied the cardinal, "but not for me. The great
seal of England was delivered to me by the hands of my sovereign; I
may not deliver it at the simple word of any lord, unless you can show
me your commission." Suffolk broke out into a passion, but Wolsey
remained calm, and the two dukes returned to Windsor. This was the
cardinal's last triumph.

[Sidenote: HE GIVES UP THE GREAT SEAL.]

The rumour of his disgrace created an immense sensation at court, in
the city, and among the foreign ambassadors. Du Bellay hastened to
York Place (Whitehall) to contemplate this great ruin and console his
unhappy friend. He found Wolsey, with dejected countenance and
lustreless eyes, "shrunk to half his wonted size," wrote the
ambassador to Montmorency, "the greatest example of fortune which was
ever beheld." Wolsey desired "to set forth his case" to him; but his
thoughts were confused, his language broken, "for heart and tongue
both failed him entirely;" he burst into tears. The ambassador
regarded him with compassion: "Alas!" thought he, "his enemies cannot
but feel pity for him." At last the unhappy cardinal recovered his
speech, but only to give way to despair. "I desire no more authority,"
he exclaimed, "nor the pope's legation, nor the broad seal of
England.... I am ready to give up every thing, even to my
shirt.[1069]... I can live in a hermitage, provided the king does not
hold me in disgrace." The ambassador "did all he could to comfort
him," when Wolsey, catching at the plank thrown out to him, exclaimed:
"Would that the king of France and madame might pray the king to
moderate his anger against me. But above all," he added in alarm,
"take care the king never knows that I have solicited this of you." Du
Bellay wrote indeed to France, that the king and madame alone could
"withdraw their affectionate servant from the gates of hell," and
Wolsey being informed of these despatches, his hopes recovered a
little. But this bright gleam did not last long.

  [1069] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 371.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S LAST HOPES.]

On Sunday the 17th of October, Norfolk and Suffolk re-appeared at
Whitehall, accompanied by Fitzwilliam, Taylor, and Gardiner, Wolsey's
former dependant. It was six in the evening; they found the cardinal
in an upper chamber, near the great gallery, and presented the king's
orders to him. Having read them he said: "I am happy to obey his
majesty's commands;" then having ordered the great seal to be brought
him, he took it out of the white leather case in which he kept it, and
handed it to the dukes, who placed it in a box, covered with crimson
velvet, and ornamented with the arms of England,[1070] ordered
Gardiner to seal it up with red wax, and gave it to Taylor to convey
to the king.

Wolsey was thunderstruck; he was to drink the bitter cup even to the
dregs: he was ordered to leave his palace forthwith, taking with him
neither clothes, linen, nor plate; the dukes had feared that he would
convey away his treasures. Wolsey comprehended the greatness of his
misery; he found strength however to say: "Since it is the kings' good
pleasure to take my house and all it contains, I am content to retire
to Esher." The dukes left him.

  [1070] In quadam theca de veluto crimisino. Rymer, Act. p. 138.

Wolsey remained alone. This astonishing man, who had risen from a
butcher's shop to the summit of earthly greatness--who, for a word
that displeased him, sent his master's most faithful servants (Pace
for instance) to the Tower--and who had governed England as if he had
been its monarch, and even more, for he had governed without a
parliament: was driven out, and thrown, as it were, upon a dunghill. A
sudden hope flashed like lightning through his mind; perhaps the
magnificence of the spoils would appease Henry. Was not Esau pacified
by Jacob's present? Wolsey summoned his officers: "Set tables in the
great gallery," he said to them, "and place on them all I have
entrusted to your care, in order to render me an account." These
orders were executed immediately. The tables were covered with an
immense quantity of rich stuffs, silks and velvets of all colours,
costly furs, rich copes and other ecclesiastical vestures; the walls
were hung with cloth of gold and silver, and webs of a valuable stuff
named baudykin,[1071] from the looms of Damascus, and with tapestry,
representing scriptural subjects or stories from the old romances of
chivalry. The gilt chamber and the council chamber, adjoining the
gallery, were both filled with plate, in which the gold and silver
were set with pearls and precious stones: these articles of luxury
were so abundant that basketfulls of costly plate, which had fallen
out of fashion were stowed away under the tables. On every table was
an exact list of the treasures with which it was loaded, for the most
perfect order and regularity prevailed in the cardinal's household.
Wolsey cast a glance of hope upon this wealth, and ordered his
officers to deliver the whole to his majesty.

  [1071] Baldekinum, pannus omnium ditissimus cujus utpote stamen ex
  filo auri, subtegmen ex serico texitur, plumario opere intertextus.
  (Ducange's Glossary.) Baudskin, the richest of all kinds of cloth,
  inasmuch as its warp is of gold thread, the woof of silk, and the
  whole interwoven with rich embroidery.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY LEAVES WHITEHALL.]

He then prepared to leave his magnificent palace. That moment of
itself so sad, was made sadder still by an act of affectionate
indiscretion. "Ah, my lord," said his treasurer, Sir William
Gascoigne, moved even to tears, "your grace will be sent to the
Tower." This was too much for Wolsey: to go and join his victims!...
He grew angry, and exclaimed: "Is this the best comfort you can give
your master in adversity? I would have you and all such blasphemous
reporters know that it is untrue."

It was necessary to depart; he put round his neck a chain of gold,
from which hung a pretended relic of the true cross; this was all he
took. "Would to God," he exclaimed, as he placed it on, "that I had
never had any other." This he said alluding to the legate's cross
which used to be carried before him with so much pomp. He descended
the back stairs, followed by his servants, some silent and dejected,
others weeping bitterly, and proceeded to the river's brink, where a
barge awaited him. But, alas! it was not alone. The Thames was covered
with innumerable boats full of men and women. The inhabitants of
London, expecting to see the cardinal led to the Tower, desired to be
present at his humiliation, and prepared to accompany him. Cries of
joy hailing his fall were heard from every side; nor were the
cruellest sarcasms wanting. "The butcher's dog will bite no more,"
said some; "look, how he hangs his head." In truth, the unhappy man,
distressed by a sight so new to him, lowered those eyes which were
once so proud, but now were filled with bitter tears. This man, who
had made all England tremble, was then like a withered leaf carried
along the stream. All his servants were moved; even his fool, William
Patch, sobbed like the rest. "O, wavering and newfangled multitude,"
exclaimed Cavendish, his gentleman usher.[1072] The hopes of the
citizens were disappointed; the barge, instead of descending the
river, proceeded upwards in the direction of Hampton Court; gradually
the shouts died away, and the flotilla dispersed.

  [1072] Cavendish, Wolsey, p. 251.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S JESTER.]

The silence of the river permitted Wolsey to indulge in less bitter
thoughts; but it seemed as if invisible furies were pursuing him, now
that the people had left him. He left his barge at Putney, and
mounting his mule, though with difficulty, proceeded slowly with
downcast looks. Shortly after, upon lifting his eyes, he saw a
horseman riding rapidly down the hill towards them. "Whom do you think
it can be?" he asked of his attendants. "My lord," replied one of
them, "I think it is Sir Henry Morris." A flash of joy passed through
Wolsey's heart. Was it not Norris, who, of all the king's officers,
had shown him the most respect during his visit to Grafton? Norris
came up with them, saluted him respectfully, and said: "The king bids
me declare that he still entertains the same kindly feelings towards
you, and sends you this ring as a token of his confidence." Wolsey
received it with a trembling hand: it was that which the king was in
the habit of sending on important occasions. The cardinal immediately
alighted from his mule, and kneeling down in the road, raised his
hands to heaven with an indescribable expression of happiness. The
fallen man would have pulled off his velvet under-cap, but unable to
undo the strings, he broke them, and threw it on the ground. He
remained on his knees bareheaded praying fervently amidst profound
silence. God's forgiveness had never caused Wolsey so much pleasure as
Henry's.

Having finished his prayer, the cardinal put on his cap, and remounted
his mule. "Gentle Norris," said he to the king's messenger, "if I were
lord of a kingdom, the half of it would scarcely be enough to reward
you for your happy tidings; but I have nothing left except the clothes
on my back." Then taking off his gold chain: "Take this," he said, "it
contains a piece of the true cross. In my happier days I would not
have parted with it for a thousand pounds." The cardinal and Norris
separated: but Wolsey soon stopped, and the whole troop halted on the
heath. The thought troubled him greatly that he had nothing to send to
the king; he called Norris back, and looking round him saw mounted on
a sorry horse poor William Patch, who had lost all his gaiety since
his master's misfortune. "Present this poor jester to the king from
me," said Wolsey to Norris; "his buffooneries are a pleasure fit for a
prince; he is worth a thousand pounds." Patch, offended at being
treated thus, burst into a violent passion, his eyes flashed fire, he
foamed at the mouth, he kicked and fought, and bit all who approached
him;[1073] but the inexorable Wolsey, who looked upon him merely as a
toy, ordered six of his tallest yeomen to lay hold of him. They
carried off the unfortunate creature, who long continued to utter his
piercing cries. At the very moment when his master had had pity on
him, Wolsey, like the servant in the parable, had no pity on his poor
companion in misfortune.

  [1073] The poor fool took on, and fired so in such a rage. Cavendish,
  p. 237.

At last they reached Esher. What a residence compared with
Whitehall!... It was little more than four bare walls. The most urgent
necessaries were procured from the neighbouring houses, but Wolsey
could not adapt himself to this cruel contrast. Besides, he knew Henry
VIII; he knew that he might send Norris one day with a gold ring, and
the executioner the next with a rope. Gloomy and dejected, he remained
seated in his lonely apartments. On a sudden he would rise from his
seat, walk hurriedly up and down, speak aloud to himself, and then
falling back in his chair, he would weep like a child. This man who
formerly had shaken kingdoms, had been overthrown in the twinkling of
an eye, and was now atoning for his perfidies in humiliation and
terror,--a striking example of God's judgment.




CHAPTER XIV.

     Thomas More elected Chancellor--A lay Government one of the
     great Facts of the Reformation--Wolsey accused of
     subordinating England to the Pope--He implores the King's
     Clemency--His Condemnation--Cromwell at Esher--His
     Character--He sets out for London--Sir Christopher Hales
     recommends him to the King--Cromwell's Interview with Henry
     in the Park--A new Theory--Cromwell elected Member of
     Parliament--Opened by Sir Thomas More--Attack on
     ecclesiastical Abuses--Reforms pronounced by the
     Convocation--Three Bills--Rochester attacks them--Resistance
     of the House of Commons--Struggles--Henry sanctions the
     three Bills--Alarm of the Clergy and Disturbances.


[Sidenote: LORD CHANCELLOR MORE.]

During all this time everybody was in commotion at court. Norfolk and
Suffolk, at the head of the council, had informed the Star Chamber of
the cardinal's disgrace. Henry knew not how to supply his place. Some
suggested the archbishop of Canterbury; the king would not hear of
him. "Wolsey," says a French writer, "had disgusted the king and all
England with those subjects of two masters who, almost always, sold
one to the other. They preferred a lay minister." "I verily believe
the priests will never more obtain it," wrote Du Bellay. The name of
Sir Thomas More was pronounced. He was a layman, and that quality,
which a few years before would, perhaps, have excluded him, was now a
recommendation. A breath of Protestantism wafted to the summit of
honours one of its greatest enemies. Henry thought that More, placed
between the pope and his sovereign, would decide in favour of the
interests of the throne, and of the independence of England. His
choice was made.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY THREATENED WITH PRÆMUNIRE.]

More knew that the cardinal had been thrown aside because he was not a
sufficiently docile instrument in the matter of the divorce. The work
required of him was contrary to his convictions; but the honour
conferred on him was almost unprecedented--very seldom indeed had the
seals been intrusted to a mere knight.[1074] He followed the path of
ambition and not of duty; he showed, however, in after-days that his
ambition was of no common sort. It is even probable that, foreseeing
the dangers which threatened to destroy the papal power in England,
More wished to make an effort to save it. Norfolk installed the new
chancellor in the Star Chamber. "His majesty," said the duke, "has not
cast his eyes upon the nobility of the blood, but on the worth of the
person. He desires to show by this choice that there are among the
laity and gentlemen of England, men worthy to fill the highest offices
in the kingdom, to which, until this hour, bishops and noblemen alone
think they have a right."[1075] The Reformation which restored
religion to the general body of the church, took away at the same time
political power from the clergy. The priests had deprived the people
of Christian activity, and the governments of power; the Gospel
restored to both what the priests had usurped. This result could not
but be favourable to the interests of religion; the less cause kings
and their subjects have to fear the intrusion of clerical power into
the affairs of the world, the more will they yield themselves to the
vivifying influence of faith.

  [1074] It has been often asserted that Sir Thomas More was the first
  layman to whom the office of chancellor was intrusted; but there were
  no less than _six_ between A.D. 1342 and 1410; viz. Sir Robert
  Boucher, knight; Sir Robert de Thorp, knight; Sir R. de la Serope,
  knight; Sir M. de la Pole; R. Neville, earl of Salisbury; and Sir T.
  Beaufort, knight.

  [1075] More's Life, p. 172.

More lost no time; never had lord-chancellor displayed such activity.
He rapidly cleared off the cases which were in arrear, and having been
installed on the 26th of October he called on Wolsey's cause on the
28th or 29th. "The crown of England," said the attorney-general, "has
never acknowledged any superior but God.[1076] Now, the said Thomas
Wolsey, legate _a latere_, has obtained from the pope certain bulls,
by virtue of which he has exercised since the 28th of August 1523 an
authority derogatory to his majesty's power, and to the rights of his
courts of justice. The crown of England cannot be put under the pope;
and we therefore accuse the said legate of having incurred the
penalties of _præmunire_."

  [1076] The crown of England, free at all times, has been in no earthly
  subjection, but immediately subject to God in all things. Herbert, p.
  231. See also Articles of Impeachment, section 1.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S REAL CRIME.]

There can be no doubt that Henry had other reasons for Wolsey's
disgrace than those pointed out by the attorney-general; but England
had convictions of a higher nature than her sovereign's. Wolsey was
regarded as the pope's accomplice, and this was the cause of the great
severity of the public officer and of the people. The cardinal is
generally excused by alleging that both king and parliament had
ratified the unconstitutional authority with which Rome had invested
him; but had not the powers conferred on him by the pope produced
unjustifiable results in a constitutional monarchy? Wolsey, as papal
legate, had governed England without a parliament; and, as if the
nation had gone back to the reign of John, he had substituted _de
facto_, if not in theory, the monstrous system of the famous bull
_Unam Sanctum_[1077] for the institution of _Magna Charta_. The king,
and even the lords and commons, had connived in vain at these
illegalities; the rights of the constitution of England remained not
the less inviolable, and the best of the people had protested against
their infringement. And hence it was that Wolsey, conscious of his
crime, "put himself wholly to the mercy and grace of the king,"[1078]
and his counsel declared his ignorance of the statutes he was said to
have infringed. We cannot here allege, as some have done, the
prostration of Wolsey's moral powers; he could, even after his fall,
reply with energy to Henry VIII. When, for instance, the king sent to
demand for the crown his palace of Whitehall, which belonged to the
see of York, the cardinal answered: "Show his majesty from me that I
must desire him to call to his most gracious remembrance that there is
both a heaven and a hell;" and when other charges besides those of
complicity with the papal aggression were brought against him, he
defended himself courageously, as will be afterwards seen. If
therefore the cardinal did not attempt to justify himself for
infringing the rights of the crown, it was because his conscience bade
him be silent. He had committed one of the gravest faults of which a
statesman can be guilty. Those who have sought to excuse him have not
sufficiently borne in mind that, since the Great Charter, opposition
to Romish aggression has always characterized the constitution and
government of England. Wolsey perfectly recollected this; and this
explanation is more honourable to him than that which ascribes his
silence to weakness or to cunning.

  [1077] Since the 13th of Nov. 1302, Raynold ad ann. Uterque ergo
  gladius est in potestate ecclesiæ, spiritualis scilicet et materialis.
  Both the one sword, and the other therefore, is, in the power of the
  church, the spiritual undoubtedly and the material also.

  [1078] Cavendish, p. 276.

The cardinal was pronounced guilty, and the court passed judgment,
that by the statute of _præmunire_ his property was forfeited, and
that he might be taken before the king in council. England, by
sacrificing a churchman who had placed himself above kings, gave a
memorable example of her inflexible opposition to the encroachments of
the papacy. Wolsey was confounded, and his troubled imagination
conjured up nothing but perils on every side.

While More was lending himself to the condemnation of his predecessor,
whose friend he had been, another layman of still humbler origin was
preparing to defend the cardinal, and by that very act to become the
appointed instrument to throw down the convents in England, and to
shatter the secular bonds which united this country to the Roman
pontiff.

[Sidenote: CROMWELL'S RESOLUTION.]

On the 1st of November, two days after Wolsey's condemnation, one of
his officers, with a prayer-book in his hand, was leaning against the
window in the great hall, apparently absorbed in his devotions.
"Good-morrow," said Cavendish as he passed him, on his way to the
cardinal for his usual morning duties. The person thus addressed
raided his head, and the gentleman-usher, seeing that his eyes were
filled with tears, asked him: "Master Cromwell, is my lord in any
danger?"--"I think not," replied Cromwell, "but it is hard to lose in
a moment the labour of a life." In his master's fall Cromwell
foreboded his own. Cavendish endeavoured to console him. "God willing,
this is my resolution," replied Wolsey's ambitious solicitor; "I
intend this afternoon, as soon as my lord has dined, to ride to
London, and so go to court, where I will either make or mar before I
come back again."[1079] At this moment Cavendish was summoned, and he
entered the cardinal's chamber.

  [1079] Cavendish, p. 280.

Cromwell, devoured by ambition, had clung to Wolsey's robe in order to
attain power; but Wolsey had fallen, and the solicitor, dragged along
with him, strove to reach by other means the object of his desires.
Cromwell was one of those earnest and vigorous men whom God prepares
for critical times. Blessed with a solid judgment and intrepid
firmness, he possessed a quality rare in every age, and particularly
under Henry VIII,--fidelity in misfortune. The ability by which he was
distinguished was not at all times without reproach: success seems to
have been his first thought.

[Sidenote: CROMWELL'S INTERVIEW WITH HENRY.]

After dinner Cromwell followed Wolsey into his private room: "My lord,
permit me to go to London, I will endeavour to save you." A gleam
passed over the cardinal's saddened features.--"Leave the room," he
said to his attendants. He then had a long private conversation with
Cromwell,[1080] at the end of which the latter mounted his horse and
set out for the capital, riding to the assault of power with the same
activity as he had marched to the attack of Rome. He did not hide from
himself that it would be difficult to procure access to the king; for
certain ecclesiastics, jealous of Wolsey, had spoken against his
solicitor at the time of the secularization of the convents, and Henry
could not endure him. But Cromwell knew that fortune favours the bold,
and, carried away by his ambitious dreams, he galloped on, saying to
himself: "One foot in the stirrup, and my fortune is made!"

  [1080] Long communication with my lord in secret. Ibid. p. 270.

Sir Christopher Hales, a zealous Roman-catholic, entertained a sincere
friendship for him; and to this friend Cromwell applied. Hales
proceeded immediately to the palace (2nd November), where he found a
numerous company talking about the cardinal's ruin. "There was one of
his officers," said Hales, "who would serve your majesty well."--"Who
is he?" asked Henry.--"Cromwell."--"Do not speak to me of that man, I
hate him," replied the king angrily;[1081] and upon that all the
courtiers chimed in with his majesty's opinion. This opening was not
very encouraging; but Lord Russell, earl of Bedford, advancing to the
midst of the group around the king, said boldly:[1082] "Permit me,
Sir, to defend a man to whom I am indebted for my life. When you sent
me privately into Italy, your majesty's enemies, having discovered me
at Bologna, would have put me to death, had not Thomas Cromwell saved
me. Sir, since you have now to do with the pope, there is no man (I
think) in all England who will be fitter for your purpose."--"Indeed!"
said the king; and after a little reflection, he said to Hales: "Very
well then, let your client meet me in Whitehall gardens." The
courtiers and the priests withdrew in great discomfiture.

  [1081] The king began to detest the mention of him. Foxe, v. p. 368.

  [1082] In a vehement boldness. Ibid. p. 367.

[Sidenote: LIBERTY SHOULD BE RESTORED TO THE CHURCH.]

The interview took place the same day at the appointed spot. "Sir,"
said Cromwell to his majesty, "the pope refuses your divorce.... But
why do you ask his consent? Every Englishman is master in his own
house, and why should not you be so in England? Ought a foreign
prelate to share your power with you? It is true, the bishops make
oath to your majesty, but they make another to the pope immediately
after, which absolves them from the former. Sir, you are but half a
king, and we are but half your subjects.[1083] This kingdom is a
two-headed monster. Will you bear with such an anomaly any longer?
What! are you not living in an age when Frederick the Wise and other
German princes have thrown off the yoke of Rome? Do likewise; become
once more a king; govern your kingdom in concert with your lords and
commons. Henceforward let Englishmen alone have any thing to say in
England; let not your subjects' money be cast any more into the
yawning gulf of the Tiber; instead of imposing new taxes on the
nation, convert to the general good those treasures which have
hitherto only served to fatten proud priests and lazy friars. Now is
the moment for action. Rely upon your parliament; proclaim yourself
the head of the church in England. Then shall you see an increase of
glory to your name, and of prosperity to your people."

  [1083] Foxe, v. p. 367. See also Apol. Regin. Poli ad Car. i. p. 120,
  121.

Never before had such language been addressed to a king of England. It
was not only on account of the divorce that it was necessary to break
with Rome; it was, in Cromwell's view, on account of the independence,
glory, and prosperity of the monarchy. These considerations appeared
more important to Henry than those which had hitherto been laid before
him; none of the kings of England had been so well placed as he was to
understand them. When a Tudor had succeeded to the Saxon, Norman, and
Plantagenet kings, a man of the free race of the Celts had taken on
the throne of England the place of princes submissive to the Roman
pontiffs. The ancient British church, independent of the papacy, was
about to rise again with this new dynasty, and the Celtic race, after
eleven centuries of humiliation, to recover its ancient heritage.
Undoubtedly, Henry had no recollections of this kind; but he worked in
conformity with the peculiar character of his race, without being
aware of the instinct which compelled him to act. He felt that a
sovereign, who submits to the pope, becomes, like King John, his
vassal; and now, after having been the second in his realm, he desired
to be the first.

The king reflected on what Cromwell had said; astonished and
surprised, he sought to understand the new position which his bold
adviser had made for him. "Your proposal pleases me much," he said;
"but can you prove what you assert?" "Certainly," replied this able
politician; "I have with me a copy of the oath the bishops make to the
Roman pontiff." With these words he drew a paper from his pocket, and
placed the oath before the king's eyes. Henry, jealous of his
authority even to despotism, was filled with indignation, and felt the
necessity of bringing down that foreign authority which dared dispute
the power with him, even in his own kingdom. He drew off his ring and
gave it to Cromwell, declaring that he took him into his service, and
soon after made him a member of his privy-council. England, we may
say, was now virtually emancipated from the papacy.

Cromwell had laid the first foundations of his greatness. He had
remarked the path his master had followed, and which had led to his
ruin,--complicity with the pope; and he hoped to succeed by following
the contrary course, namely, by opposing the papacy. He had the king's
support, but he wanted more. Possessing a clear and easy style of
eloquence, he saw what influence a seat in the great council of the
nation would give him. It was somewhat late, for the session began on
the next day (3rd November), but to Cromwell nothing was impossible.
The son of his friend, Sir Thomas Rush, had been returned to
parliament; but the young member resigned his seat, and Cromwell was
elected in his place.

[Sidenote: MEETING OF PARLIAMENT.]

Parliament had not met for seven years, the kingdom having been
governed by a prince of the Roman church. The reformation of the
church, whose regenerating influence began to be felt already, was
about to restore to the nation those ancient liberties of which a
cardinal had robbed it; and Henry being on the point of taking very
important resolutions, felt the necessity of drawing nearer to his
people. Everything betokened that a good feeling would prevail between
the parliament and the crown, and that "the priests would have a
terrible fright."[1084]

  [1084] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 378, 380.

While Henry was preparing to attack the Roman church in the papal
supremacy, the commons were getting ready to war against the numerous
abuses with which it had covered England. "Some even thought," says
Tyndale, "that this assembly would reform the church, and that the
golden age would come again."[1085] But it was not from acts of
parliament that the Reformation was destined to proceed, but solely
from the word of God. And yet the commons, without touching upon
doctrine, were going to do their duty manfully in things within the
province, and the parliament of 1529 may be regarded (Lord Herbert of
Cherbury observes) as the first protestant parliament of
England.[1086] "The bishops require excessive fines for the probates
of wills," said Tyndale's old friend, Sir Henry Guilford. "As
testamentary executor to Sir William Compton I had to pay a thousand
marks sterling."--"The spiritual men," said another member, "would
rather see the poor orphans die of hunger than give them the lean
cow, the only thing their father left them."[1087]--"Priests," said
another, "have farms, tanneries, and warehouses, all over the country.
In short, the clerks take everything from their flocks, and not only
give them nothing, but even deny them the word of God."

  [1085] Works, i. p. 481.

  [1086] It was the first step, a great and bold sally towards that
  Reformation. Herbert, p. 320.

  [1087] Rather than give to them the silly cow, if he had but only one.
  Foxe, iv. p. 611.

The clergy were in utter consternation. The power of the nation seemed
to awaken in this parliament for the sole purpose of attacking the
power of the priest. It was important to ward off these blows. The
convocation of the province of Canterbury, assembling at Westminster
on the 5th of November, thought it their duty, in self-defence, to
reform the most crying abuses. It was therefore decreed, on the 12th
of November, that the priests should no longer keep shops or taverns,
play at dice or other forbidden games, pass the night in suspected
places, be present at disreputable shows,[1088] go about with sporting
dogs, or with hawks, falcons, or other birds of prey, on their
fist;[1089] or, finally, hold suspicious intercourse with women.[1090]
Penalties were denounced against these various disorders; they were
doubled in case of adultery; and still further increased in the case
of more abominable impurities.[1091] Such were the laws rendered
necessary by the manners of the clergy.

  [1088] Quod non exerceant tabernas, nec ludant taxillis vel aliis
  ludis prohibitis; quod non pernoctent in locis suspectis quod non
  intersint inhonestis spectaculis, etc. Convocatio prælatorum. Wilkins,
  Concilia, iii. p. 717.

  [1089] Canes venaticos loris ducere ac accipitres manibus. Ibid, p.
  723.

  [1090] Mulierum colloquia suspecta nullatenus habeant. Ibid. p. 722.

  [1091] Et in cæteris carnis spurcitiis poena crescat. Ibid. p. 721.

[Sidenote: THREE BILLS OF REFORM.]

These measures did not satisfy the commons. Three bills were
introduced having reference to the fees on the probate of wills,
mortuaries, pluralities, non-residence, and the exercise of secular
professions. "The destruction of the church is aimed at," exclaimed
Bishop Fisher, when these bills were carried to the lords, "and if the
church falls, the glory of the kingdom will perish. Lutheranism is
making great progress amongst us, and the savage cry that has already
echoed in Bohemia, _Down with the church_, is now uttered by the
commons.... How does that come about? Solely from want of faith.--My
lords, save your country! save the church!" Sir Thomas Audley, the
speaker, with a deputation of thirty members, immediately went to
Whitehall. "Sir," they said to the king, "we are accused of being
without faith, and of being almost as bad as the _Turks_. We demand an
apology for such offensive language." Fisher pretended that he only
meant to speak of the _Bohemians_; and the commons, by no means
satisfied, zealously went on with their reforms.

These the king was resolved to concede; but he determined to take
advantage of them to present a bill making over to him all the money
borrowed of his subjects. John Petit, one of the members for the city,
boldly opposed this demand. "I do not know other persons' affairs," he
said, "and I cannot give what does not belong to me. But as regards
myself personally, I give without reserve all that I have lent the
king." The royal bill passed, and the satisfied Henry gave his consent
to the bills of the commons. Every dispensation coming from Rome,
which might be contrary to the statutes, was strictly forbidden. The
bishops exclaimed that the commons were becoming schismatical;
disturbances were excited by certain priests; but the clerical
agitators were punished, and the people, when they heard of it, were
delighted beyond measure.




CHAPTER XV.

     The last hour--More's Fanaticism--Debates in
     Convocation--Royal Proclamation--The Bishop of
     Norwich--Sentences condemned--Latimer's Opposition--The New
     Testament burnt--The Persecution
     begins--Hitton--Bayfield--Tonstall and Packington--Bayfield
     arrested--The Rector Patmore--Lollards' Tower--Tyndale and
     Patmore--a Musician--Freese the Painter--Placards and
     Martyrdom of Bennet--Thomas More and John Petit--Bilney.


The moment when Henry aimed his first blows at Rome was also that in
which he began to shed the blood of the disciples of the gospel.
Although ready to throw off the authority of the pope, he would not
recognise the authority of Christ: obedience to the Scriptures is,
however, the very soul of the Reformation.

[Sidenote: JOY OF THE BELIEVERS.]

The king's contest with Rome had filled the friends of Scripture with
hope. The artisans and tradesmen, particularly those who lived near
the sea, were almost wholly won over to the gospel. "The king is one
of us," they used to boast; "he wishes his subjects to read the New
Testament. Our faith, which is the true one, will circulate through
the kingdom, and by Michaelmas next those who believe as we do will be
more numerous than those of a contrary opinion. We are ready, if needs
be; to die in the struggle."[1092] This was indeed to be the fate of
many.

  [1092] The bishop of Norwich to Primate Warham, 14th May 1530, Cotton
  MSS. Cleopatra. E. v. folio 360; Bible Annals. i. p. 256.

[Sidenote: ALARM OF THE CLERGY--THE BISHOP'S DEMAND.]

Language such as this aroused the clergy: "The last hour has come,"
said Stokesley, who had been raised to the See of London after
Tonstall's translation to Durham; "if we would not have Luther's
heresy pervade the whole of England, we must hasten to throw it in the
sea." Henry was fully disposed to do so; but as he was not on very
good terms with the clergy, a man was wanted to serve as mediator
between him and the bishops. He was soon found.

Sir Thomas More's noble understanding was then passing from ascetic
practices to fanaticism, and the humanist turning into an inquisitor.
In his opinion, the burning of heretics was just and necessary.[1093]
He has even been reproached with binding evangelical Christians to a
tree in his garden, which he called "the tree of truth," and of having
flogged them with his own hand.[1094] More has declared that he never
gave "stripe nor stroke, nor so much as a fillip on the forehead," to
any of his religious adversaries;[1095] and we willingly credit his
denial. All must be pleased to think that if the author of the
_Utopia_ was a severe judge, the hand which held one of the most
famous pens of the sixteenth century never discharged the duties of an
executioner.

  [1093] More's Works; A Dialogue concerning Heresies, p. 274.

  [1094] Strype's Mem. vol. i. p. 315; Foxe, iv. p. 638.

  [1095] Apology. ch. xxxvi, p. 901, 904.

The bishops led the attack. "We must clear the Lord's field of the
thorns which choke it," said the archbishop of Canterbury to
Convocation on the 29th of November 1529; immediately after which the
bishop of Bath read to his colleagues the list of books that he
desired to have condemned. There were a number of works by Tyndale,
Luther, Melancthon, Zwingle, OEcolampadius, Pomeranus, Brentius, Bucer,
Jonas, Francis Lambert, Fryth, and Fish.[1096] The Bible in particular
was set down. "It is impossible to translate the Scripture into
English," said one of the prelates.[1097]--"It is not lawful for the
laity to read it in their mother tongue," said another.--"If you
tolerate the Bible," added a third, "you will make us all
heretics."--"By circulating the Scriptures," exclaimed several, "you
will raise up the nation against the king." Sir T. More laid the
bishops' petition before the king, and some time after, Henry gave
orders by proclamation, that "no one should preach, or write any book,
or keep any school without his bishop's license;--that no one should
keep any heretical book in his house;--that the bishops should detain
the offenders in prison at their discretion, and then proceed to the
execution of the guilty;--and, finally, that the chancellor, the
justices of the peace, and other magistrates, should aid and assist
the bishops."[1098] Such was the cruel proclamation of Henry VIII,
"the _father_ of the English Reformation."

  [1096] See the catalogue in Wilkins, Concilia, p. 713 to 720. Wilkins
  is of opinion (p. 717, note) that this document belongs to the year
  1529. There are, however, some portions of these statuta which have
  evident reference to the year following.

  [1097] Tyndale's Works, i, p. 1.

  [1098] Foxe, iv. pp. 677, 678.

The clergy were not yet satisfied. The blind and octogenarian bishop
of Norwich, being more ardent than the youngest of his priests,
recommenced his complaints. "My diocese is _accumbered_ with such as
read the Bible," said he to the archbishop of Canterbury, "and there
is not a clerk from Cambridge but _savoureth of the frying-pan_. If
this continues any time, they will undo us all. We must have greater
authority to punish them than we have."

Consequently, on the 24th of May 1530, More, Warham, Tonstall, and
Gardiner, having been admitted into St. Edward's chamber at
Westminster, to make a report to the king concerning heresy, they
proposed forbidding, in the most positive manner, the New Testament
and certain other books in which the following doctrines were taught:
"That Christ has shed his blood for our iniquities, as a sacrifice to
the Father.--Faith only doth justify us.--Faith without good works is
no little or weak faith, it is no faith.--Labouring in good works to
come to heaven, thou dost shame Christ's blood."[1099]

  [1099] Wilkins, Concilia, iii. pp. 728-731.

[Sidenote: LATIMER SEEKS CHRIST'S VOICE.]

Whilst nearly every one in the audience-chamber supported the prayer
of the petition, there were three or four doctors who kept silence. At
last one of them, it was Latimer, opposed the proposition. Bilney's
friend was more decided than ever to listen to no other voice than
God's. "Christ's sheep hear no man's voice but Christ's," he answered
Dr. Redman, who had called upon him to submit to the church; "trouble
me no more from the talking with the Lord my God."[1100] The church,
in Latimer's opinion, presumed to set up its own voice in the place of
Christ's, and the Reformation did the contrary; this was his
abridgement of the controversy. Being called upon to preach during
Christmas tide, he had censured his hearers because they celebrated
that festival by playing at cards, like mere worldlings, and then
proceeded to lay before their eyes Christ's _cards_, that is to say,
his laws.[1101] Being placed on the Cambridge commission to examine
into the question of the king's marriage, he had conciliated the
esteem of Henry's deputy, Doctor Butts, the court physician, who had
presented him to his master, by whose orders he preached at Windsor.

  [1100] Latimer's Remains, p. 297.

  [1101] Latimer's Sermons p. 8.

Henry felt disposed at first to yield something to Latimer. "Many of
my subjects," said he to the prelates assembled in St. Edward's hall,
"think that it is my duty to cause the Scriptures to be translated and
given to the people." The discussion immediately began between the two
parties;[1102] and Latimer concluded by asking "that the Bible should
be permitted to circulate freely in English."[1103]--"But the most
part overcame the better," he tells us.[1104] Henry declared that the
teaching of the priests was sufficient for the people, and was content
to add, "that he would give the Bible to his subjects when they
renounced the arrogant pretension of interpreting it according to
their own fancies."--"Shun these books," cried the priests from the
pulpit, "detest them, keep them not in your hands, deliver them up to
your superiors.[1105] Or, if you do not, your prince, who has received
from God the sword of justice, will use it to punish you." Rome had
every reason to be satisfied with Henry VIII. Tonstall, who still kept
under lock and key the Testaments purchased at Antwerp through
Packington's assistance, had them carried to St. Paul's Churchyard,
where they were publicly burnt. The spectators retired shaking the
head, and saying: "The teaching of the priests and of Scriptures must
be in contradiction to each other, since the priests destroy them."
Latimer did more: "You have promised us the word of God," he wrote
courageously to the king, "perform your promise now rather than
to-morrow! The day is at hand when you shall give an account of your
office, and of the blood that hath been shed with your sword."[1106]
Latimer well knew that by such language he hazarded his life; but that
he was ready to sacrifice, as he tells us himself.[1107]

  [1102] Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 736.

  [1103] Latimer's Remains, p. 305.

  [1104] Ibid.

  [1105] Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p.736.

  [1106] Latimer's Remains, p. 308.

  [1107] I had rather suffer extreme punishment. Ibid. p. 298.

[Sidenote: THE PERSECUTION BEGINS.]

Persecution soon came. Just as the sun appeared to be rising on the
Reformation, the storm burst forth. "There was not a stone the bishops
left unremoved," says the chronicler, "any corner unsearched, for the
diligent execution of the king's proclamation; whereupon ensued a
grievous persecution and slaughter of the faithful."[1108]

  [1108] Foxe, iv. p. 679.

Thomas Hitton, a poor and pious minister of Kent, used to go
frequently to Antwerp to purchase New Testaments. As he was returning
from one of these expeditions, in 1529, the bishop of Rochester caused
him to be arrested at Gravesend, and put to the cruelest tortures, to
make him deny his faith.[1109] But the martyr repeated with holy
enthusiasm: "Salvation cometh by faith and not by works, and Christ
giveth it to whomsoever he willeth."[1110] On the 20th of February
1530, he was tied to the stake and there burnt to death.[1111]

  [1109] Dieted and tormented him secretly. Tyndale's Works, vol. i. p.
  485.

  [1110] For the constant and manifest testimony of Jesus Christ and of
  his free grace and salvation. Foxe, vol. iv. p. 619.

  [1111] The bishops murdered him most cruelly. Tyndale, vol i. p. 485.

[Sidenote: BAYFIELD IMPORTS THE NEW TESTAMENT.]

Scarcely were Hitton's sufferings ended for bringing the Scriptures
into England, when a vessel laden with New Testaments arrived at
Colchester. The indefatigable Bayfield, who accompanied these books,
sold them in London, went back to the continent, and returned to
England in November; but this time the Scriptures fell into the hands
of Sir Thomas More. Bayfield, undismayed, again visited the Low
Countries, and soon reappeared, bringing with him the New Testament
and the works of almost all the Reformers. "How cometh it that there
are so many New Testaments from abroad?" asked Tonstall of Packington;
"you promised me that you would buy them all."--"They have printed
more since," replied the wily merchant; "and it will never be better
so long as they have letters and stamps [types and dies]. My lord, you
had better buy the stamps too, and so you shall be sure."[1112]

  [1112] Foxe, vol. iv. p. 670.

Instead of the stamps, the priests sought after Bayfield. The bishop
of London could not endure this godly man. Having one day asked
Bainham (who afterwards suffered martyrdom) whether he knew _a single
individual_ who, since the days of the apostles, had lived according
to the true faith in Jesus Christ, the latter answered: "Yes, I know
Bayfield."[1113] Being tracked from place to place, he fled from the
house of his pious hostess, and hid himself at his binder's, where he
was discovered, and thrown into the Lollard's tower.[1114]

  [1113] Ibid. p. 699.

  [1114] Ibid. p. 681.

As he entered the prison, Bayfield noticed a priest named Patmore,
pale, weakened by suffering, and ready to sink under the ill-treatment
of his jailers. Patmore, won over by Bayfield's piety, soon opened his
heart to him. When rector of Haddam, he had found the truth in
Wickliffe's writings. "They have burnt his bones," he said, "but from
his ashes shall burst forth a well-spring of life."[1115] Delighting
in good works, he used to fill his granaries with wheat, and when the
markets were high, he would send his corn to them in such abundance as
to bring down the prices.[1116] "It is contrary to the law of God to
burn heretics," he said; and growing bolder, he added: "I care no more
for the pope's curse than for a bundle of hay."[1117]

  [1115] Ibid vol. v. p. 34.

  [1116] Ibid. vol. iv. p. 681.

  [1117] Ibid.

His curate, Simon Smith, unwilling to imitate the disorderly lives of
the priests, and finding Joan Bennore, the rector's servant, to be a
discreet and pious person, desired to marry her. "God," said Patmore,
"has declared marriage lawful for _all men_; and accordingly it is
permitted to the priests in foreign parts."[1118] The rector alluded
to Wittemberg, where he had visited Luther. After his marriage Smith
and his wife quitted England for a season, and Patmore accompanied
them as far as London.

  [1118] Yet it was in other countries beyond sea. Foxe, vol iv. p. 681.

The news of this marriage of a priest--a fact without precedent in
England--made Stokesley throw Patmore into the Lollards' tower, and
although he was ill, neither fire, light, nor any other comfort was
granted him. The bishop and his vicar-general visited him alone in his
prison, and endeavoured by their threats to make him deny his faith.

[Sidenote: BAYFIELD IN THE COAL-CELLAR.]

It was during these circumstances that Bayfield was thrust into the
tower. By his Christian words he revived Patmore's languishing
faith,[1119] and the latter complained to the king that the bishop of
London prevented his feeding the flock which God had committed to his
charge. Stokesley, comprehending whence Patmore derived his new
courage,[1120] removed Bayfield from the Lollards' tower, and shut him
up in the coal-house, where he was fastened upright to the wall by the
neck, middle, and legs.[1121] The unfortunate gospeller of Bury passed
his time in continual darkness, never lying down, never seated, but
nailed as it were to the wall, and never hearing the sound of human
voice. We shall see him hereafter issuing from this horrible prison to
die on the scaffold.

  [1119] Confirmed by him in the doctrine. Ibid.

  [1120] Ibid.

  [1121] Ibid.

Patmore was not the only one in his family who suffered persecution;
he had in London a brother named Thomas, a friend of John Tyndale, the
younger brother of the celebrated reformer. Thomas had said that the
truth of Scripture was at last reappearing in the world, after being
hidden for many ages;[1122] and John Tyndale had sent five marks to
his brother William, and received letters from him. Moreover, the two
friends (who were both tradesmen) had distributed a great number of
Testaments and other works. But their faith was not deeply rooted, and
it was more out of sympathy for their brothers that they had believed;
accordingly, Stokesley so completely entangled them, that they
confessed their "crime." More, delighted at the opportunity which
offered to cover the name of Tyndale with shame, was not satisfied
with condemning the two friends to pay a fine of £100 each; he
invented a new disgrace. He sewed on their dress some sheets of the
New Testament which they had circulated, placed the two penitents on
horseback with their faces towards the tail, and thus paraded them
through the streets of London, exposed to the jeers and laughter of
the populace. In this, More succeeded better than in his refutation of
the reformer's writings.

  [1122] Ibid. vol. v. p. 34.

[Sidenote: EDWARD FREESE GOES MAD.]

From that time the persecution became more violent. Husbandmen,
artists, tradespeople, and even noblemen, felt the cruel fangs of the
clergy and of Sir Thomas More. They sent to jail a pious musician who
used to wander from town to town, singing to his harp a hymn in
commendation of Martin Luther and of the Reformation.[1123] A painter,
named Edward Freese, a young man of ready wit, having been engaged to
paint some hangings in a house, wrote on the borders certain sentences
of the Scripture. For this he was seized and taken to the bishop of
London's palace at Fulham, and there imprisoned, where his chief
nourishment was bread made out of sawdust.[1124] His poor wife, who
was pregnant, went down to Fulham to see her husband; but the bishop's
porter had orders to admit no one, and the brute gave her so violent a
kick, as to kill her unborn infant, and cause the mother's death not
long after. The unhappy Freese was removed to the Lollards' tower,
where he was put into chains, his hands only being left free. With
these he took a piece of coal, and wrote some pious sentences on the
wall: upon this he was manacled; but his wrists were so severely
pinched, that the flesh grew up higher than the irons. His intellect
became disturbed; his hair in wild disorder soon covered his face,
through which his eyes glared fierce and haggard. The want of proper
food, bad treatment, his wife's death, and his lengthened
imprisonment, entirely undermined his reason. When brought to St.
Paul's, he was kept three days without meat; and when he appeared
before the consistory the poor prisoner, silent and scarce able to
stand, looked around and gazed upon the spectators, "like a wild man."
The examination was begun, but to every question put to him Freese
made the same answer: "My Lord is a good man." They could get nothing
from him but this affecting reply. Alas! the light shone no more upon
his understanding, but the love of Jesus was still in his heart. He
was sent back to Bearsy Abbey, where he did not remain long; but he
never entirely recovered his reason.[1125] Henry VIII and his priests
inflicted punishments still more cruel even than the stake.

  [1123] His name was Robert Lambe. Foxe, vol. v. p. 34.

  [1124] Fed with fine manchet made of sawdust, or at least a great part
  thereof. Ibid. iv. p. 625.

  [1125] Foxe, iv, p. 695.

[Sidenote: AGITATION IN EXETER.]

Terror began to spread far and wide. The most active evangelists had
been compelled to flee to a foreign land; some of the most godly were
in prison; and among those in high station there were many, and
perhaps Latimer was one, who seemed willing to shelter themselves
under an exaggerated moderation. But just as the persecution in London
had succeeded in silencing the most timid, other voices more
courageous were raised in the provinces. The city of Exeter was at
that time in great agitation; placards had been discovered on the
gates of the cathedral containing some of the principles "of the new
doctrine." While the mayor and his officers were seeking after the
author of these "blasphemies," the bishop and all his doctors, "as hot
as coals," says the chronicler,[1126] were preaching in the most fiery
style. On the following Sunday, during the sermon, two men who had
been the busiest of all the city in searching for the author of the
bills, were struck by the appearance of a person seated near them.
"Surely, this fellow is the heretic," they said. But their neighbour's
devotion, for he did not take his eyes off his book, quite put them
out; they did not perceive that he was reading the New Testament in
Latin.

  [1126] Ibid. v. p. 19.

This man, Thomas Bennet, was indeed the offender. Being converted at
Cambridge by the preaching of Bilney, whose friend he was, he had gone
to Torrington for fear of the persecution, and thence to Exeter, and
after marrying to avoid unchastity (as he says)[1127] he became
schoolmaster. Quiet, humble, courteous to every body, and somewhat
timid, Bennet had lived six years in that city without his faith being
discovered. At last his conscience being awakened he resolved to
fasten by night to the cathedral gates certain evangelical placards.
"Every body will read the writing," he thought, "and nobody will know
the writer." He did as he had proposed.

  [1127] Ut ne scortator aut immundus essem, uxorem duxi. Foxe, v. p.
  19.

[Sidenote: THE GREAT CURSE.]

Not long after the Sunday on which he had been so nearly discovered,
the priests prepared a great pageant, and made ready to pronounce
against the unknown heretic the great curse "with book, bell, and
candle." The cathedral was crowded, and Bennet himself was among the
spectators. In the middle stood a great cross on which lighted tapers
were placed, and around it were gathered all the Franciscans and
Dominicans of Exeter. One of the priests having delivered a sermon on
the words: _There is an accursed thing in the midst of thee, O
Israel_,[1128] the bishop drew near the cross and pronounced the curse
against the offender. He took one of the tapers and said: "Let the
soul of the unknown heretic, if he be dead already, be quenched this
night in the pains of hell-fire, as this candle is now quenched and
put out;" and with that he put out the candle. Then, taking off a
second, he continued: "and let us pray to God, if he be yet alive,
that his eyes be put out, and that all the senses of his body may fail
him, as now the light of this candle is gone;" extinguishing the
second candle. After this, one of the priests went up to the cross and
struck it, when the noise it made in falling re-echoing along the
roof, so frightened the spectators that they uttered a shriek of
terror, and held up their hands to heaven, as if to pray that the
divine curse might not fall on them. Bennet, a witness of this comedy,
could not forbear smiling. "What are you laughing at?" asked his
neighbours; "here is the heretic, here is the heretic, hold him fast."
This created great confusion among the crowd, some shouting, some
clapping their hands, others running to and fro; but, owing to the
tumult, Bennet succeeded in making his escape.

  [1128] Joshua, vii. 12.

The excommunication did but increase his desire to attack the Romish
superstitions; and accordingly, before five o'clock the next morning
(it was in the month of October 1530,) his servant-boy fastened up
again by his orders on the cathedral gates some placards similar to
those which had been torn down. It chanced that a citizen going to
early mass saw the boy, and running up to him, caught hold of him and
pulled down the papers; and then dragging the boy with the one hand,
and with the placards in the other, he went to the mayor of the city.
Bennet's servant was recognised; his master was immediately arrested,
and put in the stocks, "with as much favour as a dog would find," says
Foxe.

[Sidenote: BENNET'S MARTYRDOM.]

Exeter seemed determined to make itself the champion of sacerdotalism
in England. For a whole week, not only the bishop, but all the priests
and friars of the city, visited Bennet night and day. But they tried
in vain to prove to him that the Roman church, was the true one. "God
has given me grace to be of a better church," he said.--"Do you not
know that ours is built upon St. Peter?"--"The church that is built
upon a man," he replied, "is the devil's church and not God's." His
cell was continually thronged with visitors; and, in default of
arguments, the most ignorant of the friars called the prisoner a
heretic, and spat upon him. At length they brought to him a learned
doctor of theology, who, they supposed, would infallibly convert him.
"Our ways are God's ways," said the doctor gravely. But he soon
discovered that theologians can do nothing against the word of the
Lord. "He only is my way," replied Bennet, "who saith, _I am the way,
the truth, and the life_. In his _way_ will I walk;--his _truth_ will
I embrace;--his everlasting _life_ will I seek."

He was condemned to be burnt; and More having transmitted the order
_de comburendo_ with the utmost speed, the priests placed Bennet in
the hands of the sheriff on the 15th of January, 1531, by whom he was
conducted to the Livery-dole, a field without the city, where the
stake was prepared. When Bennet arrived at the place of execution, he
briefly exhorted the people, but with such unction, that the sheriff's
clerk, as he heard him, exclaimed: "Truly this is a servant of God."
Two persons, however, seemed unmoved: they were Thomas Carew and John
Barnehouse, both holding the station of gentlemen. Going up to the
martyr, they exclaimed in a threatening voice: "Say, _Precor sanctam
Mariam et omnes sanctos Dei_."--"I know no other advocate but Jesus
Christ," replied Bennet. Barnehouse was so enraged at these words,
that he took a furze-bush upon a pike, and setting it on fire, thrust
it into the martyr's face, exclaiming: "Accursed heretic, pray to our
Lady, or I will make you do it."--"Alas!" replied Bennet patiently,
"trouble me not;" and then holding up his hands, he prayed: "Father,
forgive them!" The executioners immediately set fire to the wood, and
the most fanatical of the spectators, both men and women, seized with
an indescribable fury, tore up stakes and bushes, and whatever they
could lay their hands on, and flung them all into the flames to
increase their violence. Bennet, lifting up his eyes to heaven,
exclaimed: "Lord, receive my spirit." Thus died, in the sixteenth
century, the disciples of the Reformation sacrificed by Henry VIII.

[Sidenote: JOHN PETIT, M. P. FOR LONDON.]

The priests, thanks to the king's sword, began to count on victory;
yet schoolmasters, musicians, tradesmen, and even ecclesiastics, were
not enough for them. They wanted nobler victims, and these were to be
looked for in London. More himself, accompanied by the lieutenant of
the Tower, searched many of the suspected houses.[1129] Few citizens
were more esteemed in London than John Petit, the same who, in the
house of commons, had so nobly resisted the king's demand about the
loan. Petit was learned in history and in Latin literature: he spoke
with eloquence, and for twenty years had worthily represented the
city. Whenever any important affair was debated in parliament, the
king, feeling uneasy, was in the habit of inquiring which side he
took? This political independence, very rare in Henry's parliaments,
gave umbrage to the prince and his ministers. Petit, the friend of
Bilney, Fryth, and Tyndale, had been one of the first in England to
taste the sweetness of God's word,[1130] and had immediately
manifested that beautiful characteristic by which the gospel-faith
makes itself known, namely, charity. He abounded in almsgiving,
supported a great number of poor preachers of the gospel in his own
country and beyond the seas; and whenever he noted down these generous
aids in his books, he wrote merely the words: "Lent unto
Christ."[1131] He, moreover, forbade his testamentary executors to
call in these debts.

  [1129] Strype, i, p. 312.

  [1130] Strype, i, p. 312.

  [1131] Ibid. p. 314.

Petit was tranquilly enjoying the sweets of domestic life in his
modest home in the society of his wife and two daughters, Blanche and
Audrey, when he received an unexpected visit. One day, as he was
praying in his closet, a loud knock was heard at the street-door. His
wife ran to open it, but seeing Lord-chancellor More, she returned
hurriedly to her husband, and told him that the lord-chancellor wanted
him. More, who followed her, entered the closet, and with inquisitive
eye ran over the shelves of the library, but could find nothing
suspicious. Presently he made as if he would retire, and Petit
accompanied him. The chancellor stopped at the door and said to him:
"You assert that you have none of these new books?"--"You have seen my
library," replied Petit.--"I am informed, however," replied More,
"that you not only read them, but pay for the printing." And then he
added in a severe tone: "Follow the lieutenant." In spite of the tears
of his wife and daughters this independent member of parliament was
conducted to the Tower, and shut up in a damp dungeon where he had
nothing but straw to lie upon. His wife went thither each day in vain,
asking, with tears, permission to see him, or at least to send him a
bed. The jailors refused her every thing; and it was only when Petit
fell dangerously ill that the latter favour was granted him. This took
place in 1530, sentence was passed in 1531;[1132] we shall see Petit
again in his prison. He left it, indeed, but only to sink under the
cruel treatment he had there experienced.

  [1132] Ibid. p. 312.

[Sidenote: BILNEY RECOVERS FROM HIS FALL.]

Thus were the witnesses to the truth struck down by the priests, by
Sir Thomas More, and by Henry VIII. A new victim was to be the cause
of many tears. A meek and humble man, one dear to all the friends of
the gospel, and whom we may regard as the spiritual father of the
Reformation in England was on the point of mounting the burning pile
raised by his persecutors. Some time prior to Petit's appearance
before his judges, which took place in 1531, an unusual noise was
heard in the cell above him; it was Thomas Bilney whom they were
conducting to the Tower.[1133] We left him at the end of 1528, after
his fall. Bilney had returned to Cambridge tormented by remorse; his
friends in vain crowded round him by night and by day; they could not
console him, and even the Scriptures seemed to utter no voice but that
of condemnation.[1134] Fear made him tremble constantly, and he could
scarcely eat or drink. At length a heavenly and unexpected light
dawned in the heart of the fallen disciple; a witness whom he had
vexed--the Holy Spirit--spoke once more in his heart. Bilney fell at
the foot of the cross, shedding floods of tears, and there he found
peace. But the more God comforted him, the greater seemed his crime.
One only thought possessed him, that of giving his life for the truth.
He had shrunk from before the burning pile; its flames must now
consume him. Neither the weakness of his body, which his long anguish
had much increased, nor the cruelty of his enemies, nor his natural
timidity, nothing could stop him: he strove for the martyr's crown. At
ten o'clock one night, when every person in Trinity Hall was retiring
to rest, Bilney called his friends round him, reminded them of his
fall, and added: "You shall see me no more.... Do not stay me: my
decision is formed, and I shall carry it out. My face is set to go to
Jerusalem."[1135] Bilney repeated the words used by the evangelist,
when he describes Jesus going up to the city where he was to be put to
death. Having shaken hands with his brethren, this venerable man, the
foremost of the evangelists of England in order of time, left
Cambridge under cover of the night, and proceeded to Norfolk, to
confirm in the faith those who had believed, and to invite the
ignorant multitude to the Saviour. We shall not follow him in this
last and solemn ministry; these facts and others of the same kind
belong to a later date. Before the year 1531 closed in, Bilney,
Bainham, Bayfield, Tewkesbury, and many others, struck by Henry's
sword, sealed by their blood the testimony rendered by them to the
perfect grace of Christ.

  [1133] Strype, i, p. 313.

  [1134] He thought that all the while the Scriptures were against him.
  Latimer's Sermons, p. 52.

  [1135] Foxe, iv. p. 642. See Luke ix, 51.




CHAPTER XVI.

     Wolsey's Terror--Impeachment by the Peers--Cromwell saves
     him--The Cardinal's Illness--Ambition returns to him--His
     Practices in Yorkshire--He is arrested by
     Northumberland--His departure--Arrival of the Constable of
     the Tower--Wolsey at Leicester Abbey--Persecuting
     Language--He dies--Three Movements: Supremacy Scripture, and
     Faith.


[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S TERROR.]

While many pious Christians were languishing in the prisons of
England, the great antagonist of the Reformation was disappearing from
the stage of this world. We must return to Wolsey, who was still
detained at Esher.[1136]

  [1136] Burnet and some more modern historians are, in my opinion,
  mistaken when they state that Wolsey was present in parliament at the
  close of 1529. See State Papers, i. p. 347, 351.

The cardinal, fallen from the summit of honours, was seized with those
panic-terrors usually felt after their disgrace by those who have made
a whole nation tremble, and he fancied an assassin lay hid behind
every door. "This very night," he wrote to Cromwell on one occasion,
"I was as one that should have died. If I might, I would not fail to
come on foot to you, rather than this my speaking with you shall be
put over and delayed. If the displeasure of my Lady Anne be somewhat
assuaged, as I pray God the same may be, then I pray you exert all
possible means of attaining her favour."[1137]

  [1137] State Papers, vol. 1. p. 351, mutilated by fire.

In consequence of this, Cromwell hastened down to Esher two or three
days after taking his seat in parliament, and Wolsey, all trembling,
recounted his fears to him. "Norfolk, Suffolk, and Lady Anne perhaps,
desire my death.[1138] Did not Thomas a Becket, an archbishop like me,
stain the altar with his blood?"... Cromwell reassured him, and, moved
by the old man's fears, asked and obtained of Henry an order of
protection.

  [1138] Timebat sibi damnum et periculum de corpore suo per quosdam
  suos æmulos. (Rymer, Foedera, p. 139.) He feared loss and bodily injury
  at the hands of some of his rivals.

[Sidenote: GRIEVANCES OF THE PEERS AGAINST WOLSEY.]

Wolsey's enemies most certainly desired his death; but it was from the
justice of the three estates, and not by the assassin's dagger that
they sought it. The House of Peers authorized Sir Thomas More, the
dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and fourteen other lords, to impeach the
cardinal-legate of high treason. They forgot nothing: that haughty
formula, _Ego et rex meus_, I and my king, which Wolsey had often
employed; his infringement of the laws of the kingdom; his
monopolizing the church revenues; the crying injustice of which he had
been guilty,--as, for instance, in the case of Sir John Stanley, who
was sent to prison until he gave up a lease to the son of a woman who
had borne the cardinal two children; many families ruined to satisfy
his avarice; treaties concluded with foreign powers without the king's
order; his exactions, which had impoverished England; and the foul
diseases and infectious breath with which he had polluted his
majesty's presence.[1139] These were some of the forty-four grievances
presented by the peers to the king, and which Henry sent down to the
lower house for their consideration.

  [1139] Article vi. Herbert, p. 295.

It was at first thought that nobody in the commons would undertake
Wolsey's defence, and it was generally expected that he would be given
up to the vengeance of the law (as the bill of impeachment prayed),
or, in other words, to the axe of the executioner. But one man stood
up, and prepared, though alone, to defend the cardinal: this was
Cromwell. The members asked of each other who the unknown man was; he
soon made himself known. His knowledge of facts, his familiarity with
the laws, the force of his eloquence, and the moderation of his
language, surprised the house. Wolsey's adversaries had hardly aimed a
blow before the defender had already parried it. If any charge was
brought forward to which he could not reply, he proposed an
adjournment until the next day, departed for Esher at the end of the
sitting, conferred with Wolsey, returned during the night, and next
morning reappeared in the commons with fresh arms. Cromwell carried
the house with him; the impeachment failed, and Wolsey's defender took
his station among the statesmen of England. This victory, one of the
greatest triumphs of parliamentary eloquence at that period, satisfied
both the ambition and the gratitude of Cromwell. He was now firmly
fixed in the king's favour, esteemed by the commons, and admired by
the people: circumstances which furnished him with the means of
bringing to a favourable conclusion the emancipation of the church of
England.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S PRESENT TO WOLSEY.]

The ministry, composed of Wolsey's enemies, was annoyed at the
decision of the lower house, and appointed a commission to examine
into the matter. When the cardinal was informed of this he fell into
new terrors. He lost all appetite and desire of sleep,[1140] and a
fever attacked him at Christmas. "The cardinal will be dead in four
days," said his physician to Henry, "if he receives no comfort shortly
from you and Lady Anne."--"I would not loose him for twenty thousand
pounds," exclaimed the king. He desired to preserve Wolsey in case his
old minister's consummate ability should become necessary, which was
by no means unlikely. Henry gave the doctor his portrait in a ring,
and Anne, at the king's desire, added the tablet of gold that hung at
her girdle. The delighted cardinal placed the presents on his bed, and
as he gazed on them he felt his strength return. He was removed from
his miserable dwelling at Esher to the royal palace at Richmond; and
before long he was able to go into the park, where every night he read
his breviary.

  [1140] Cum prostratione appetitus et continuo insomnio. (Wolsey to
  Gardiner; Cavendish, Appendix, p. 474.) With loss of appetite and
  continual want of sleep.

Ambition and hope returned with life. If the king desired to destroy
the papal power in England, could not the proud cardinal preserve it.
Might not Thomas Wolsey do under Henry VIII what Thomas a Becket had
done under Henry II. His see of York, the ignorance of the priests,
the superstition of the people, the discontent of the great,--all
would be of service to him; and indeed, six years later, 40,000 men
were under arms in a moment in Yorkshire to defend the cause of Rome.
Wolsey, strong in England by the support of the nation, (such, at
least was his opinion,) aided without by the pope and the continental
powers, might give the law to Henry and crush the Reformation.

The king having permitted him to go to York, Wolsey prayed for an
increase to his archiepiscopal revenues, which amounted, however, to
four thousand pounds sterling.[1141] Henry granted him a thousand
marks, and the cardinal, shortly before Easter 1530, departed with a
train of 160 persons. He thought it was the beginning of his triumph.

  [1141] State Papers. vol. i. p. 354.

Wolsey took up his abode at Cawood Castle, Yorkshire, one of his
archiepiscopal residences, and strove to win the affections of the
people. This prelate, once "the haughtiest of men," says George
Cavendish, the man who knew him and served him best, became quite a
pattern of affability. He kept an open table, distributed bounteous
alms at his gate, said mass in the village-churches, went and dined
with the neighbouring gentry, gave splendid entertainments, and wrote
to several princes imploring their help. We are assured that he even
requested the pope to excommunicate Henry VIII.[1142] All being thus
prepared, he thought he might make his solemn entry into York,
preparatory to his enthronization, which was fixed for Monday the 5th
of November.

  [1142] Hall, p. 773.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY IS ARRESTED BY NORTHUMBERLAND.]

Every movement of his was known at court; every action was canvassed,
and its importance exaggerated. "We thought we had brought him down,"
some said, "and here he is rising up again." Henry himself was
alarmed. "The cardinal, by his detestable intrigues," he said, "is
conspiring against my crown, and plotting both at home and abroad;"
the king even added, _where_ and _how_.[1143] Wolsey's destruction was
resolved upon.

  [1143] Cosi mi disse el Re, che contra de S. M. el machinava nel regno
  e fuori, et m'a detto dove e come. Le Grand, Preuves. p. 529.

The morning after All Saints day (Friday, 2nd November), the earl of
Northumberland, attended by a numerous escort, arrived at Cawood,
where the cardinal was still residing. He was the same Percy whose
affection for Anne Boleyn had been thwarted by Wolsey; and there may
have been design in Henry's choice. The cardinal eagerly moved forward
to meet this unexpected guest, and, impatient to know the object of
his mission, took him into his bedchamber, under the pretence of
changing his travelling dress.[1144] They both remained some time
standing at a window without uttering a word; the earl looked confused
and agitated, whilst Wolsey endeavoured to repress his emotion. But at
last, with a strong effort, Northumberland laid his hand upon the arm
of his former master, and with a low voice said: "My lord, I arrest
you for high treason." The cardinal remained speechless, as if
stunned. He was kept a prisoner in his room.

  [1144] And there you may shift your apparel. Cavendish, p. 347.

It is doubtful whether Wolsey was guilty of the crime with which he
was charged. We may believe that he entertained the idea of some day
bringing about the triumph of the popedom in England, even should it
cause Henry's ruin; but perhaps this was all. But, an idea is not a
conspiracy, although it may rapidly expand into one.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY PREACHES PERSECUTION.]

More than three thousand persons (attracted, not by hatred, like the
Londoners, when Wolsey departed from Whitehall, but by enthusiasm)
collected the next day before the castle to salute the cardinal. "God
save your grace!" they shouted on every side, and a numerous crowd
escorted him at night; some carried torches in their hands, and all
made the air re-echo with their cries. The unhappy prelate was
conducted to Sheffield Park, the residence of the earl of Shrewsbury.
Some days after his arrival, the faithful Cavendish ran to him,
exclaiming: "Good news, my lord! Sir William Kingston and twenty-four
of the guard are come to escort you to his majesty."--"Kingston!"
exclaimed the cardinal, turning pale, "Kingston!" and then, slapping
his hand on his thigh, he heaved a deep sigh. This news had crushed
his mind. One day a fortune-teller, whom he consulted, had told him:
"_you shall have your end at Kingston_;" and from that time the
cardinal had carefully avoided the town of Kingston-on-Thames. But now
he thought he understood the prophecy.... Kingston, constable of the
Tower, was about to cause his death. They left Sheffield Park; but
fright had given Wolsey his death-blow. Several times he was near
falling from his mule, and on the third day, when they reached
Leicester Abbey, he said as he entered: "Father abbot, I am come
hither to leave my bones among you;" and immediately took to his bed.
This was on Saturday the 26th of November.

On Monday morning, tormented by gloomy forebodings, Wolsey asked what
was the time of day. "Past eight o'clock," replied Cavendish.--"That
cannot be," said the cardinal, "eight o'clock.... No! for by eight
o'clock you shall lose your master." At six on Tuesday, Kingston
having come to inquire about his health, Wolsey said to him: "I shall
not live long."--"Be of good cheer," rejoined the governor of the
Tower.--"Alas, Master Kingston", exclaimed the cardinal, "if I had
served God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have
given me over in my gray hairs!" and then he added with downcast head:
"This is my just reward." What a judgment upon his own life!

On the very threshold of eternity (for he had but a few minutes more
to live) the cardinal summoned up all his hatred against the
Reformation, and made a last effort. The persecution was too slow to
please him: "Master Kingston," he said, "attend to my last request:
tell the king that I conjure him in God's name to destroy this new
pernicious sect of Lutherans." And then, with astonishing presence of
mind in this his last hour, Wolsey described the misfortunes which the
Hussites had, in his opinion, brought upon Bohemia; and then, coming
to England, he recalled the times of Wickliffe and Sir John Oldcastle.
He grew animated; his dying eyes yet shot forth fiery glances. He
trembled lest Henry VIII, unfaithful to the pope, should hold out his
hand to the reformers. "Master Kingston," said he, in conclusion, "the
king should know that if he tolerates heresy, God will take away his
power, and we shall then have mischief upon mischief ... barrenness,
scarcity, and disorder to the utter destruction of this realm."

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S CHARACTER.]

Wolsey was exhausted by the effort. After a momentary silence, he
resumed with a dying voice: "Master Kingston, farewell! My time
draweth on fast. Forget not what I have said and charged you withal;
for when I am dead ye shall peradventure understand my words better."
It was with difficulty he uttered these words; his tongue began to
falter, his eyes became fixed, his sight failed him; he breathed his
last. At the same minute the clock struck _eight_, and the attendants
standing round his bed looked at each other in affright. It was the
29th of November 1530.

Thus died the man once so much feared. Power had been his idol: to
obtain it in the state, he had sacrificed the liberties of England;
and to win it or to preserve it in the church, he had fought against
the Reformation. If he encouraged the nobility in the luxuries and
pleasures of life, it was only to render them more supple and more
servile; if he supported learning, it was only that he might have a
clergy fitted to keep the laity in their leading-strings. Ambitious,
intriguing, and impure of life, he had been as zealous for the
sacerdotal prerogative as the austere Becket; and by a singular
contrast, a shirt of hair was found on the body of this voluptuous
man. The aim of his life had been to raise the papal power higher than
it had ever been before, at the very moment when the Reformation was
attempting to bring it down; and to take his seat on the pontifical
throne with more than the authority of a Hildebrand. Wolsey, as pope,
would have been the man of his age; and in the political world he
would have done for the Roman primacy what the celebrated Loyola did
for it soon after by his fanaticism. Obliged to renounce this idea,
worthy only of the middle ages, he had desired at least to save the
popedom in his own country; but here again he had failed. The pilot
who had stood in England at the helm of the Romish church was thrown
overboard, and the ship, left to itself, was about to founder. And
yet, even in death, he did not lose his courage. The last throbs of
his heart had called for victims; the last words from his failing
lips, the last message to his master, his last testament had been ...
Persecution. This testament was to be only too faithfully executed.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: AUTHORITY OF SCRIPTURE.]

The epoch of the fall and death of Cardinal Wolsey, which is the point
at which we halt, was not only important, because it ended the life of
a man who had presided over the destinies of England, and had
endeavoured to grasp the sceptre of the world, but it is of especial
consequence, because then three movements were accomplished, from
which the great transformation of the sixteenth century was to
proceed. Each of these movements has its characteristic result.

The first is represented by Cromwell. The supremacy of the pope in
England was about to be wrested from him, as it was in all the
reformed churches. But a step further was taken in England. That
supremacy was transferred to the person of the king. Wolsey had
exercised as vicar-general a power till then unknown. Unable to become
pope at the Vatican, he had made himself a pope at Whitehall. Henry
had permitted his minister to raise his hierarchical throne by the
side of his own. But he had soon discovered that there ought not to be
two thrones in England, or at least not two kings. He had dethroned
Wolsey; and resolutely seating himself in his place, he was about to
assume at Whitehall that tiara which the ambitious prelate had
prepared for himself. Some persons, when they saw this, exclaimed,
that if the papal supremacy were abolished, that of the word of God
ought alone to be substituted. And, indeed, the true Reformation is
not to be found in this first movement.

The second, which was essential to the renewal of the church, was
represented by Cranmer, and consisted particularly in re-establishing
the authority of holy Scripture. Wolsey did not fall alone, nor did
Cranmer rise alone: each of these two men carried with him the systems
he represented. The fabric of Roman traditions fell with the first;
the foundations of the holy Scriptures were laid by the second; and
yet, while we render all justice to the sincerity of the Cambridge
doctor, we must not be blind to his weaknesses, his subserviency, and
even a certain degree of negligence, which, by allowing parasitical
plants to shoot up here and there, permitted them to spread over the
living rock of God's word. Not in this movement, then, was found the
Reformation with all its energy and all its purity.

The third movement was represented by the martyrs. When the church
takes a new life, it is fertilized by the blood of its confessors; and
being continually exposed to corruption, it has constant need to be
purified by suffering.[1145] Not in the palaces of Henry VIII, nor
even in the councils where the question of throwing off the papal
supremacy was discussed, must we look for the true children of the
Reformation; we must go to the Tower of London, to the Lollards'
tower of St. Paul's and of Lambeth, to the other prisons of England,
to the bishops' cellars, to the fetters, the stocks, the rack, and the
stake. The godly men who invoked the sole intercession of Christ
Jesus, the only head of his people, who wandered up and down, deprived
of every thing, gagged, scoffed at, scourged, and tortured, and who,
in the midst of all their tribulations, preserved their Christian
patience, and turned, like their Master, the eyes of their faith
towards Jerusalem:--these were the disciples of the Reformation in
England. The purest church is the church under the cross.

  [1145] 1 Peter iv, 17--Plerumque ecclesia est coetus exiguus sustinens
  varias et iugentes ærumnas. (Melancthon, loci.) The church for the
  most part is a small company, enduring various and great sufferings.

[Sidenote: OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.]

The father of this church in England was not Henry VIII. When the king
cast into prison or gave to the flames men like Hitton, Bennet,
Patmore, Petit, Bayfield, Bilney, and so many others, he was not "the
father of the Reformation of England," as some have so falsely
asserted; he was its executioner.

The church of England was foredoomed to be in its renovation a church
of martyrs; and the true father of this church is our Father which is
in heaven.


  END OF VOLUME V.

  GLASGOW: JAMES KAY, PRINTER.




       *       *       *       *       *




Transcriber's note:

Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained
except in obvious cases of typographical error. For example: both
Cochlæus and Cochloeus appear.

Page 396: "understanding not only over her own sex"--The transcriber
has added the word "her".





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