Presented to the 

LIBRARIES of the 
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO 

by 

Nancy Kiphart Logan 

In memory of 
Her grandfather 
Thomas J, Kiphart 




ULR1CH ZWINGLE 



HISTORY 

OF 

THE REFORMATION 

OF 

THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 

BY J. H. MERLE D'AUBIGNlS, D. D., 

PRESIDENT OF THE THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL OF GENEVA, AND VICE- 
PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY EVANGELIQUE. 

TRANSLATED BY H. WHITE, B. A. 

TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE I M. A. AND PH. DR. HEIDELBERG. 

THE TRANSLATION CAREFULLY REVISED BY DR. D'AUBIGN£, WHO HAS 
ALSO MADE VARIOUS ADDITIONS NOT HITHERTO PUBLISHED. 

VOL. V. 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 



CONTENTS 



BOOK XVII. 

ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION. 

CHAPTEE I. 

Introduction — Work of the sixteenth century— Unity and diversi- 
ty — Necessity of considering the entire religious history of Eng- 
land—Establishment of Christianity in Great Britain — Forma- 
tion of ecclesiastical Catholicism in the Roman empire— Spiritual 
Christianity received by Britain — Slavery and conversion of Suc- 
cat — His mission to Ireland — Anglo-Saxons reestablish Paganism 
in England — Columba at Iona — Evangelical teaching — Presby- 
tery and Episcopacy in Great Britain — Continental missions of 
the Britons — An omission - 25 

CHAPTER II. 

Pope Gregory the Great — Desires to reduce Britain— Policy of Greg- 
ory 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 — St. Peter scourges 
an archbishop— Oswald — His victory — Corman — Mission of Os- 
wald and Aidan— Death of Oswald 40 



CHAPTER III. 

Character of Oswy — Death of Aidan — Wilfrid at Rome— At Os- 
wald's court — Finan and Colman — Independence of the church 
attacked — Oswy's conquests and troubles — Synodics 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 — 
Hi* history— Monkish visions— Fall of Iona 52 



4 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Clement — Struggle between a Scotchman and an Englbhman— 
Word of God only — Clement's success — His condemnation — 
Virgil and the antipodes — John Scotus and philosophical relig- 
ion — Alfred and the Bible — Darkness and Popery — William the 
Conqueror — Wulston at Edward's tomb — Struggle between 
William and Hildebrand — The Pope yields — Caesaropapia — 72 

CHAPTER V. 

Anselm's firmness — Becket's austerity — The king scourged — John 
becomes the pope's vassal — Collision between Popery and liber- 
ty — The vassal king ravages his kingdom — Religion of the senses 
and superstition 82 

CHAPTER VI. 

Reaction — Grostete — Principles of reform— Contest with the pope — 
Sewal — Progress of the nation — Opposition to the Papacy — Con- 
version of Bradwardine — Grace is supreme — Edward III. — Stat- 
utes of Provisory and Praemunire 89 

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 Lancas- 
ter and Courtenay — Riot — Three briefs against Wickliffe — Wick- 
liffe at Lambeth — Mission of the Poor Priests — Their preachings 
and persecutions — Wickliffe and the four regents 96 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Bible — Wickliffe's translation — Effects of its publication — Op- 
position of the clergy — Wickliffe's fourth phasis — Transubstan- 
tiation — 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 charac- 
ter—His teaching — His ecclesiastical views — A prophecy--- 108 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Wicklinites — Call for reform —Richard II. — The first martyr — 
Lord Cobham — Appears before Henry V. — Before the archbishop 
— His confession and death — The Lollards • 123 



CONTENTS. 



5 



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 — Tour- 
naments — Henry' s danger - 129 



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 — Co- 
let's household — He preaches reform — The Greeks and Tro- 
jans 143 



CHAPTER XII. 

Wolsey — His first commission — His complaisance and dioceses — Car- 
dinal, chancellor, and legate — Ostentation and necromancy — His 
spies and enmity — Pretensions of the clergy 153 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The wolves — Pdchard Hun— A murder — Verdict of the jury — Hun 
condemned, and his character vindicated — The Gravesend pas- 
sage-boat — A festival disturbed— Brown tortured — Visit from his 
wife — A martyr— Character of Erasmus — 1516 and 1517 — Eras- 
mus goes to Basle 168 



BOOK XVIII. 



THE EEVIVAL OF THE CHURCH. 



CHAPTER I 

Four reforming powers— Which reformed England ?— Papal re- 
form ? — 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 eventi 
—The Greek and Latin New Testament— Thoughts of Eraamu*— 



6 



CONTENTS. 



Enthusiasm and anger — Desire of Erasmus— Clamors of the 
priests — Their attack at court — Astonishment of Erasmus — His 
labors for this work — Edward Lee — His character — Lee's trage- 
dy — Conspiracy 167 

CHAPTER II. 

Effects of the New Testament in the universities — Conversations — 
A Cambridge fellow — Bilneybuys 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 pos- 
sible ? — True consecration — The Reformation has begun 180 

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 argu- 
ments 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. 189 

CHAPTER IV. 

Tyndale — Sodbury hall—Sir John and Lady Walsh — Table-talk — 
The holy Scriptures — The images — The anchor of faith — A Ro- 
man camp — Preaching of faith and works — Tyndale accused by 
the priests — They tear up what he has planted— Tyndale re- 
solves to translate the Bible — His first triumph — The priests in 
the Taverns — Tyndale summoned before the chancellor of Wor- 
cester — Consoled by an aged doctor — Attacked by a schoolman 
— His secret becomes known — He leaves Sodbury hall. 198 

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 Thomas 
More — The book presented to the pope — Defender of the Faith- - 
Exultation of the king. 209 



CONTENTS* 



1 



CHAPTER VI 

Wolsey 1 s machinations to obtain the tiara— He gains Charles V. — 
Alliance between Henry and Charles— Wolsey oners to command 
the troops— Treaty of Bruges— Henry believes himself king of 
France — Victories of Francis I. — Death of Leo X. 217 

CHAPTER VII 

The just men of Lincolnshire — Their assemblies and teaching — Ag- 
nes and Morden — Itinerant libraries— Polemical conversations — 
Sarcasm — Royal decree and terror — Depositions and condem- 
nations — Four Martyrs — A conclave — Charles consoles Wol- 
sey 222 

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 — Im- 
portunities of the bishop of Lincoln — Persecution in London — 
Tyndale' s resolution — He departs — His indignation against the 
prelates — His hopes 228 



CHAPTER IX 

Bilney at Cambridge — Conversions — The university cross-bearer — A 
Leicestershire farmer — A party of students — Superstitious prac- 
tices—An obstinate papist — The sophists — Latimer attacks Staf- 
ford — 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 teach- 
ing — Works of charity — Three classes of adversaries — Clark and 
Dalaber 238 

CHAPTER X. 

Wolsey seeks the tiara— Clement VII. is elected — Wolsey 's dissim- 
ulation — 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 — Ten- 
tardea steeple - — - 252 



3 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Tyndale at Hamburg — First two gospels — Embarrassment — Tyndale 

at Wittemberg— - At Cologne — The New Testament at press — Sud- 
den interruption — Cochlaeus at Cologne — Rupert's manuscripts — 
Discovery of Cochlaeus — His inquiries — His alarm — Rincke and 
the senate's prohibition — Consternation and decision of Tyndale 
— Cochlaeus writes to England— Tyndale ascends the Rhine — 
Prints two editions at Worms — Tyndale' s prayer 260 

CHAPTER XII. 

Worms and Cambridge — St. Paul resuscitated — Latimer's preaching 
— " Never man spake like this man " — Joy and vexation at Cam- 
bridge — 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 - 270 



BOOK XIX. 

THE ENGLISH NEW TESTAMENT AND THE 
COURT OF ROME. 

CHAPTER I. 

Church and state essentially distinct — Their fundamental princi- 
ples — 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 — Dis- 
semination of Scripture — What the people find in it — The effect* 
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 pur- 
atgory 286 



CONTENTS. 



9 



CHAPTER II. 

The two authorities — Commencement of the search — Garret at Ox- 
ford—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 — Frater- 
nal love at Oxford — Alarm of Dalaber — His arrest and examina- 
tion — He is tortured — Garret and twenty fellows imprisoned — 
The cellar— Condemnation and humiliation 298 



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 confes- 
sors in the cellar at Oxford — Four of them die — The rest liber- 
ated 309 

CHAPTER IV. 

Luther's letter to the king — Henry's anger — His reply — Luther's 
) resolution — Persecutions — Barnes escapes — Proclamations against 
the New Testament— William Roy to Caiaphas — Third edition of 
the New Testament — The triumph of law and liberty — Hackett 
attacks the printer — Hackett' s complaints — A seizure — The year 
1526 in England 320 



CHAPTER V. 



Wolsey desires to be revenged — The divorce suggested — Henry's 
sentiments towards the queen — Wolsey's first steps — Lcngland's 
proceedings — Refusal of Margaret of Valois — Objection of the 
bishop of Tarbes — Henry's uneasiness — Catherine's Alarm — Mis- 
sion to Spain 328 



CHAPTER VI. 

Anne Boleyn appointed maid of honor 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 Renee 
of France for Henry— Failure — Anne reappears at court— Repels 
the king's advances — Henry's letter — He resolves to accelerate 



10 



CONTENTS. 



the divorce — Two motives which induce Anne to refuse thd 
crown — Wolsey's opposition 336 

CHAPTER VII. 

Bilney's preaching — His arrest — Arthur's preaching and imprison- 
ment— B.ineys 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 - 347 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Papacy intercepts the gospel — The king consults Sir Thomas 
More — Ecclesiastical conferences about the divorce — The uni- 
versities — Clarke— The nun of Kent— Wolsey decides to do the 
king's will — Mission to the pope — Four documents — Embar- 
rassment 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 355 



CHAPTER IX. 

The English envoys at Orvieto — Their oration to the pope — Clement 
gains time — The envoys and Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor— Strat- 
agem of the pope — Knight discovers it and returns — The trans- 
formations 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 366 



CHAPTER X. 

Disappointment in England — War declared against Charles V. — 
Wolsey desires to get him deposed by the pope — A new scheme 
— Embassy of Foxe 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 cardi- 
nals — Gardiner's last blows — Reverses of Charles V. in Italy — 
The pope's terror and concession— The commission granted — Wol- 
sey demands the engagement — A loophole — The pope's dis- 
tress 873 



CONTENTS. 



11 



CHAPTER XI. 

Fox's report to Henry and Anne— Wolsey's impression— He de- 
mands the decretal — One of the cardinal's petty manoeuvres — 
He sets his conscience at rest— Gardiner fails at Rome — Wol- 
sey'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 389 



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 dis- 
semble at court 399 



CHAPTER II. 

Coverdale and inspiration— He undertakes to translate the Scrip- 
tures — His joy and spiritual songs— Tyball and the laymen — Co- 
verdale preaches at Bumpstead — Revival at Colchester— Incom- 
plete societies and the New Testament— Persecution — Monmouth 
arrested and released ---- 413 



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 satisfac- 
tion — The cardinal's project — Campeggio's reception — First in- 
terview with the queen and with the king — Useless efforts to 
make Campeggio part with the decretal — The nuncio's con- 
science — Public opinion — Measures taken by the king — His 
speech to the lords and aldermen — Festivities— Wolsey seeks 
French support — Contrariety. 422 



12 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IV. 



True Catholicity — Wolsey — Harman's matter — West gent to Co- 
logne — Labors of Tyndale and Fryth — Rincke at Frankfort— He 
makes a discovery — Tyndale at Marburg — West returns to Eng- 
land — His tortures in the monastery - 439 



CHAPTER V. 

Necessity of the Reformation — Wolsey 's earnestness with Da Ca- 
sale — 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 de- 
cline — His anguish 446 



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 clear-sightedness — 
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 - 454 



CHAPTER VII. 



Discussion between the Evangelicals and the Catholics — Union of 
learning and life — The laity — Tewkesbury — His appearance be- 
fore the bishop's court — He is tortured — Two classes of oppo- 
nents—A theological duel — Scripture and the church — Emanci- 
pation 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 — Arri- 
ral at Hamburg — Meets Coverdale * 464 



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 



CONTENTS. 



18 



Bishops — New Sitting — Apparition to the Maid of Kent— Wol- 
sey chafed by Henry — The Earl of Whitshire at Wolsey's — Pri- 
vate conference between Catherine and the two Legates — 475 

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 argu- 
ments — The legates required to deliver judgment —Their tergi- 
versations — 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 cardi- 
nal turns to an episcopal life - 486 

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 494 

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 pa- 
pacy 503 

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 di- 
vorce — Fox communicates it to Henry — Cranmer' s vexation- 
Conference with the king — Cranmer at the Boleyna 51$ 



u 



CONTENTS. 



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 depar- 
ture — Favorable message from the king— Wolsey' s joy — His 
fool— Arrival at Esher - 522 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Thomas More elected chancellor — A lay government one of the great 
facts of the Reformation— Wolsey accused of subordinating Eng- 
land to the pope — He implores the king's clemency — His con- 
demnation — 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 
tne Convocation — Three bills— Rochester attacks them — Resist- 
ance of the House of Commons — Struggles — Henry sanctions the 
three bills — Alarm of the clergy and disturbances 529 



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 persecu- 
tion begins — Hitton — Bayfield — Tonstall and Packington — Bay- 
field arrested — The rector Patmore — Lollard's Tower— Tyndale 
and Patmore — A musician — Freese the Painter — Placards and 
martyrdom of Bennet — Thomas More and John Petit— Bil- 
ney--- 540 



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 in Northumberland — His depart- 
ure — Arrival of the constable of the Tower — Wolsey at Leicester 
Abbey — Persecuting language — He dies — Three movements: 
Supremacy, Scripture, and Faith 555 



PREFACE TO VOLUME V 



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 ; some, however, had not 
been previously explored, among which are the later vol- 
umes of the State Papers published by order of govern- 
ment, by a commission of which the illustrious Sir Rob- 
ert Peel was the first president. Three successive Home 
Secretaries, Sir James Graham, Sir George Grey, and 
the Honorable 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 ex- 
pressing his sincere gratitude to these noble friends of 
literature. 

The History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Cen- 
tury 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 be- 



16 PBEFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 

twee ii him and many distant Christians, as a precious 
reward for his labors. Will the present volume be re* 
ccived in those countries as favorably as the others? 
A foreigner relating to the Anglo-Saxon race the his- 
tory of their reformation is at a certain disadvantage; 
and although the author would rather have referred his 
leaders to works, whether of old or recent date, by na- 
tive writers, all of them more competent than himself to 
accomplish this task, 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 po- 
litical transformation, and who thus ignore its spiritual 
aature. History has taught the author that it was es- 
sentially 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 — every thing, 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 Reforma- 
tion. An active party in the Episcopalian church is reviv- 
ing with zeal, perseverance, and talent, the principles oi 
Roman-catholicism, and striving to impose them on the 
Reformed church of England, and incessantly attacking 



PBEFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 11 

the foundations of evangelical Christianity. A number 
of young men in the universities, seduced by that de- 
ceitful mirage which some of their teachers have placed 
before their eyes, are launching out into clerical and 
»uperstitious 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 transforma- 
tion. 

The new position which the Romish court is taking 
in England and its insolent aggressions, are a third con 
eideration 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 perse- 
veringly 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 i^covered its inalienable rights 
in Britain in the sixteenth century, the popedom, agi- 
tated 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 fortify- 
ing itself, for instance under Edward III., against the 
invasions of Rome. It has been pretended in our days, 
and by others besides ultramontanists, 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 
stati should ever refuse the completest liberty to the 
Roman-catholic doctrines. We certainly wish for reci- 
procity ; we desire that ultramontanism should no longer 

2 



18 PREFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 



throw into prison the humble believers who seek coneo* 
lation for themselves and for their friends in holy Scrip- 
ture. But though a deplorable fanaticism should still 
continue to transplant into the nineteenth century the 
mournful tragedies of the middle ages, we should per- 
sist in demanding the fullest liberty, not only of con* 
science, but of worship for Roman-catholics in Protes* 
tant 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 other- 
wise 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 farther than this: far from constraining 
the English Catholics in any thing, we would rather de- 
sire to help them to be freer than they are, and to aid 
them in recovering the rights of which the Roman bishop 
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 — Corne- 
lius — demanded three elements to secure the legitimacy 
of episcopal election : " The call of God, the voice of the 
people, and the consent of the cobishops."* And the coun 
cil of Rome, in 1080, said, "Let the clergy and the peo 
vie, with the consent of the apostolic see or of their met* 
rqpolitan, elect their bishop."f In our days, days dis- 

• Divinum judicium, populi sunragium, co-episcoporum consent* 
sob. Epist. 55. 

f Clerus et populus. apostolicae sedis, vel metropolitan! ltd coo* 
peasu, pa&torem sibi eligat. Mansi, 20, p. 533. 



PBEFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 19 



tingaished by great liberty, shall the church be less free 
than it was in the middle ages ? / 

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 
&oat of the popedom, are we therefore to say that the 
state, whether under Edward III. or in later times, should 
oppose no barrier against Eomish aggressions ? If it is 
the very life and soul of Popery to pass beyond the boun- 
daries of religion, and enter into the field 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 through- 
out 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, 1510, a letter from St. 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 honor of 
Almighty God. . . . We conjure your majesty to take 
into your serious consideration the matter which he will 
.ay 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 re- 
ceive his communication, " that it was proposed to hill 
Queen Elisabeth ; that the attempt would not be made 



SO PREFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 

in London, because it was the seat of heresy, l/ut during 

one of her journeys ; and that a certain James G 

would undertake it." The same day the council met and 
deli be lated on Elizabeth's assassination. Philip declared 
hi? willingness to undertake the foul deed recommended 
by his holiness ; but as it would be an expensive busi- 
ness, his ministers hinted to the nuncio that the pope 
ought to furnish the money. This horrible but instruct- 
ive recital will be found with all its details in the His- 
toire de Marie Stuart, by M. Mignet, vol. 2, p. 159, etc. 
It is true these things took place in the sixteenth cen- 
tury ; but the Romish church has canonized this priestly 
murderer, an honor conferred on a very small number of 
popes, and the canonization took place in the eighteenth 
century.* This is not a very distant date. 

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 deplora- 
ble outbreaks of 1848, appear almost everywhere ready 
to support the court of Rome by arms ; and ultramon- 
tanism takes 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 sove 
reigns or the insubordination of peoples, should be re 
vived." Such are the theories now professed not only 
by priests, but by influential laymen.f To this opinion 

• Acta canonisationis S. Pii. V. Hornae, 1720, folio. 

4 See in particular Le Catholicism*, le Libiralisme U U Socialim* 



PREFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 21 



belong, at the present hour, all the zeal and enthusiasm 
of Romanism, and this alone we are bound to acknow- 
ledge is consistent with the principles of Popery. And 
accordingly it is to be feared that this party will tri- 
umph, unless we oppose it with all the forces of the hu- 
man understanding, of religious and political liberty, 
and above all, of the word of God. The most distin- 
guished 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 ques- 
tions, 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 de- 
cisions of the holy see. This is the social and political 
theory of the middle ages."* 

Since the popedom asserts claims both spiritual and 
temporal, the church and the state ought to resist it, 
each in its 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 calcu- 
lated 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 
robbers should endeavor to plunder two houses, would 
it be just and charitable for one neighbor to say to the 
other, " I must defend my house, but you must let yours 
be stripped V 9 If the pope desires to have the iminacu- 

and other writings of Donoso Cortes, marquis of Valdegaroas, one 
of the most distinguished members of the constitutional party is 
Spain. 

• Journal das DSbats, January 18th, 1863. 



88 PBEFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 

late conception of the Virgin or any other religious doo 
trine preached, let the fullest liberty be granted him, and 
let him build as many churches as he pleases to do it in: 
we claim this in the plainest language. But if the pope, 
like St. Pius, desires to kill the queen of England, or at 
least — for no pope in our days, were he even sain 
enough tc 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 wis- 
dom 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 i% 
found among theologians, it is an error ; in statesmen, 
it is a danger. 

Finally, aud this consideration revives our hopes, 
there is a fourth motive which gives at this time a par- 
ticular 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 centu- 
ries, 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 six- 
ieenth 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 



PBEPACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 28 



Germany was the foundation of the building, that of 
England was its crowning stone. 

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

Evangelical faith does not place on the throne of the 
church either human reason or religious conscientious- 
ness, as some would have it; but it sets thereon Jesus 
Christ, who is both the knowledge taught and the doc- 
tor who teaches it ; who explains his word by the word 
and by the light of his Holy Spirit ; who by it bears wit- 
ness 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 estab- 
lishes his kingdom here on earth, and preserves and de- 
velops 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 king- 
dom of his glory. 

Finally, evangelical faith does not place on the throne 
of the church priests, councils, doctors, or their tradi- 
tions, or that vice-God — veri Dei vicem gerit in terris, as 
the Romish gloss has it — that infallible pontiff who, re* 



24 PREFACE TO FIFTH VOLUME. 

viving 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 nine- 
teenth 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 V 9 Let 
others follow the devices of their imaginations, or pros 
trate themselves before traditional superstitions, or kiss 
the feet of a sinful man : 0 King of glory, we desire but 
thee alone. 

Eaux-Vivbb, Geneva. March, 1868. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



BOOK XYII. 

ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION. 

CHAPTER I. 

Introduction — Work of the sixteenth century — Unity and diversi- 
ty — Necessity of considering the entire religious history of Eng« 
land — Establishment of Christianity in Great Britain — Forma- 
tion of ecclesiastical Catholicism in the Roman empire— Spiritual 
Christianity received by Britain — Slavery and conversion of Suc- 
cat — His mission to Ireland — Anglo-Saxons reestablish Paganism 
in England — Columba at Iona — Evangelical teaching — Presby- 
tery 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 Refor- 
mation. 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 lead- 
ing him back from mere outward profession and the 
mechanism of works to an inward and lively faith 

This transformation was not effected without strug- 
gles — struggles which presented at first a remarkable 

Hist. Of lUf. Vol. V 



26 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION: 



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 differ- 
ence 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 tri 
amphal 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 colors. When 
England became reformed, a puissant individualism 
joined its might to the great unity. 

If we search for the characteristics of the British 
Eeformation, 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 de- 
graded 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 re- 
trenched. To understand the present, we must know 
the past. Society, like man himself, has its infancy, 
youth, maturity, and old age. Ancient or pagan soci- 
ety, which had spent its infancy in the East in the midst 
of the antehellenic 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 analo- 
gous stages : at the time of the Reformation it attained 



THE GOSPEL CARRIED TO BRITAIN. 27 



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 
hi ough 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-papist- 
ical and royal-papistical. 

After these two degrees of decline came the last and 
g^eat phasis of the Eeformation. 

In the second century of the Christian era, vessels 
wre frequently sailing to the savage shores of Britain 
fronci 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 resur- 
rection of Jesus of Nazareth, and rejoicing at the pros- 
pect of saving by these glad-tidings the pagans towards 
whom they were steering. It would appear that some 
British prisoners of war, having learned to know Christ 
during their captivity, bore also to their fellow-country- 
men the knowledge of this Saviour. It may be too that 
some Christian soldiers, the Corneliuses of those impe- 
rial 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, 



28 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 rilled with their mysteries 
and their sacrifices, and on which even the Roman eagles 
had never stooped.* These churches were formed after 
the Eastern type : the Britons would have refused to 
receive the type of that Rome whose yoke they de- 
tested. 

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 aumber.f Many Christians 
from the southern part of the island took refuge in Scot- 
land, 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 bluod-stained altars, and obeyed the gentle 
voice of the gospel. After the death of these pious ref 
ugees, their cells were transformed into houses of pray- 
er.J In 305 Constantius Chlorus succeeded to the throne 
of the Caesars, and put an end to the persecution. 

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 pe- 
riod of the church. After the extraordinary manifesta- 

• Britannorum inaccessa Romanis loca Christo vero subdita 
Tertullian contra Judasos, lib. 7. This work, from its bearing no 
traces of Montarnsm, seems to belong to the first part of 1ertul« 
lian's life. See also Origen in Lucam, cap. 1, homil. 6. 

•)• Lactam ius, de multibus perseeutoruin, cap. 12. 

J Multi ex Brittonibus Christiani sajvitiam Diocletiani timentef 
ad eos confugerant . . . ut vita functorum ceilae in templa eoiurau- 
tarentur. Buchanan, 4, cap. 35. 



ECCLESIASTICAL CATHOLICISM. 29 



tions of the Holy Ghost which had produced the apos« 
tolic 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 di- 
vine religion, and this they gradually assimilated more 
and more to the religions of human origin. Instead ol 
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 Scrip- 
ture. 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 liv- 
ing 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 partic- 
ularly in the East, in Africa, and in Italy. Britain was 
at first comparatively exempt. At the very time that 
the savage Ficts and Scots, rushing from their heathen 
homes, were devastating the country, spreading terror 
on all sides and reducing the people to slavery, we dis- 
cover 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. 

On the picturesque banks of the Clyde, not far from 
Glasgow, in the Christian village of Bouavern, now Kil- 
patrick, a little boy of tender heart, lively temperament, 
and indefatigable activity, passed the earlier days of hia 
life. He was born about the year 372 a. d., of a British 
family, and was named Succat.* His father Calpurnius, 

* In baptismo haud Patricium sed Succat a pareufcibus fuisao 
dictum. Usser, Brit Eccl. Autiq., p. 428. 



30 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



deacon of the church of Bonavern, a simple-hearted piona 
man, and his mother Conchessa, sister to the celebrated 
Martin, archbishop of Tours,* and a woman superior to 
the majority of her sex, had endeavored to instil into his 
heart the doctrines of Christianity ; but Succat did not 
understand them. He was fond of pleasure, and delight- 
ed to be the leader of his youthful companions. In the 
midst of his frivolities, he committed a serious fault. 

Some few years later, his parents having 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.f It was while alone in these soli- 
tary 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 go- 
eth. w 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"! 

° Martini Turonum archiepiscopi consanguineam. Usser. Brit. 
Eccl. Antiq., p 428. t Cujus porcorum pastor erat. Ibid., 431. 

J Et ibi Dominus aperuit sensum incredulitatis meas, ut vel sera 
remorarem delicta mea, et ut converterer toto corde ad Dominion 
Deura nieum. Patr. Confess. Usser ♦ p. 431, 



EVANGELICAL FAITH. 



31 



Such words as these from the lips of a swinoherd in 
the green pastures of Ireland, set clearly before us the 
Christianity which in the fourth and fifth centuries con- 
verted many souls in the British isles. In after-years, 
Rome established the dominion of the priest and salva- 
tion by forms, independently of the dispositions of the 
heart ; but the primitive religion of these celebrated isl 
ands was that living Christianity whose substance ia 
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 
1 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 te 
seek after God. At that time I felt not the indifference 
which now I feel ; the Spirit fermented in my heart."* 
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. 

Twice a captive and twice rescued, Succat, after re- 
turning 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 endeavored 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 keen 
est emotion.f He tore himself from the arms of his 
parents, and rushed forth, not as heretofore with his 

° Ut etiam in sylvis et monte mane bam, et ante lucem excita- 
bar ad orationem per nivem, per gelu, per pluviam . . . quia tunc 
Spiruus in me fervebat. Patr. Confess. Usser., p. 432 

t Valde coin p uric t us gum corde et sic expergefactut, Ibid., 43& 



32 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

play-fellows, 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." 

Succat, afterwards known as Saint Patrick, and to 
which name, as to that of Saint Peter and other servants 
of God, many superstitions have been attached, returned 
to Ireland, but without visiting Rome, as a historian of 
the twelfth century has asserted.* 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 sim^ 
pie 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, learned from him to pro- 
claim the gospel, and was destined to succeed him. The 
court bard Dubrach Mac Valubair no longer sang dru- 
idical 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 minis- 
trations of a Scotchman. 

Shortly before the evangelization of Patrick in Ire- 
land, 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 doc- 
trine of original sin, extolled freewill, and maintained 
that, if man made use of all tiie 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 reach 
* Jocelinus, Vita in Acta Sanctorum 



SAXON INVASION. 



33 



ed Britain. The British churches refused to receive this 
" perverse doctrine," their historian tells us, " and to 
blaspheme the grace of Jesus Christ."* They do not 
appear to have held the strict doctrine of St. 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 Pela- 
gius, with a good intention it would appear, went still 
further. However that may be, these churches, stran- 
gers to the controversy, were unacquainted with all its 
subtleties. Two Gaulish bishops, Gernianus and Lupus, 
came to their aid, and those who had been perverted 
returned into the way of truth.f 

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 sav- 
age manners, the barbarous customs of the Saxons pre- 
vailed unmoderated throughout the kingdoms of the 
Heptarchy, and in every quarter temples to Thor rose 
above the churches in which Jesus Christ had been wor- 
shipped. Gaul and the south of Europe, which still 
exhibited to the eyes of the barbarians the last vestiges 
of Koman grandeur, alone had the power of inspiring 
some degree of respect in the formidable Germans, and 

° Verum Britanni cum neque suscipere dogma perversum, gra« 
tiam Chris ti blasphemando nullatenus vellent. Beda, Hist. AngL, 
lib. 1, cap 17 et 21. 

t Depzavati viam correction^ agnoscerent Ibid 

3 



• V /J 

34 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

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 ex- 
halations ; the souls of the departed are transported 
thither at midnight from the shores of Gaul. Ferrymen 
and 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 Chris- 
tianity of the British isles was not to be annihilated by 
these barbarian invasions ; it possessed a strength which 
rendered it capable of energetic resistance. 

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 him- 
self to the King of heaven. Shall he not repay to the 
country of Succat what Succat had imparted to his? " 1 
will go," said he, "and preach the word of God in Scot> 
land for the word of God and not an ecclesiastical 
hierarchism was then the converting agency. The grand- 
son 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 ba- 
saltic caverns of Stafla, and fixed his abode in a small 
island, afterwards known as lona or Icolmkill, " the isl 
and cf Columba's cell." Some Christian Culdees, driven 
out by the dissension of the Picts and Scots, had already 
found a refuge in the same retired spot. Here the mis- 
sionaries erected a chapel, whose walls, it is said, still 
• Priedicaturus verbum Dei. UBser. Antiq., p. 869. 



COLUMBA— HIS TEACHING. 



35 



exist among the stately ruins of a later age.* Some 
authors have placed Columba in the first rank after the 
apostles.f 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. J 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 found- 
ed there, in which the word was studied ; and many re- 
ceived 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." 

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 assem- 
bled around the elders on these savage shores or in their 
humble chapel, these ministers of the Lord would say te 
them, " The holy Scriptures are the only rule of faith. § 
Throw aside all merit of works, and look for salvation 
to the grace of God alone. || Beware of a religion which 

• I visited Iona in 1845 with Dr. Patrick M'Farlan, and saw 
these ruins. One portion of the building seems to be of primitiva 
architecture, f Nulli post apostolos secundus. Notker. 

J Qui de prosapia regali claruit, 
Sed morum gratia magis einicuit. 

Usser. Antiq., p. 360. 
§ Prolatis Sanctaa Scripturae testimoniis. Adomn., 1. 1, c. 22'. 
I Bishop Muntei, Altbritiiche Kirche. Stud, und Krit. , 6, 745. 



36 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



consists of outward observances : it is better to keep 
your heart pure before God than to abstain from meats.* 
One alone is your head, Jesus Christ. Bishops and pres 
byters are equal ;f they should be the husbands of one 
wife, and have their children in subjection."! 

The sages of Iona knew nothing of transubstantia 
tion or of the withdrawal of the cup in the Lord's sup 
per, or of auricular confession, or of prayers to the dead, 
or tapers, or incense ; they celebrated Easter on a differ 
ent day from Eome ;§ synodal assemblies regulated the 
affairs of the church, and the papal supremacy was un- 
known. || 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. 

Iona, governed by a simple elder, ^[ had become a 
missionary college. It has been sometimes called a 
monastery ; but the dwelling of the grandson of Fergus 
in no wise 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 

° Meliores Bunt ergo qui non magno opere jejunant, cor intrin 
secus nitidum coram Deo sollicite servantes. Gildas in ejusd. Syn- 
od. Append. 

f In Hibernia episcopi et presbyteri unum sunt. Ekkehardi 
liber, Arx. Geschichte von S. Gall., 1, 267. 

% Patrem habui Calpornium diaconum filium quondam Potiti 
Presbyteri. Patricii Confessio. Even as late as the twelfth cen 
tury we meet with married Irish bishops. Bernard, Vita Malachi®, 
cap. 10. 

§ In die quidem dominica alia tamen quam dicebat hebdomade 
selebrabant. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 4. 

|| Augustinus novam religionem docet . . . dum ad unius episcopi 
romani dominatum omnia revocat. Buchan., lib. 5, cap. 36. 

^ Habere autem solet ipsa insula rectorem semper abbatem 
prabyterum cujus juri et omnis provincia et ipsi etiam episcopi, ordine 
inusitato, debeant esse subjecti, juxta exemplum primi doctoria 
Ulins qui non episcopus sed presbyter exstitit et monachus. Beda 
Hist. EccL, 3, cap. 4. 



CONTINENTAL MISSIONS. 



37 



hands of the elders : they were called bishops, but re- 
mained obedient to the elder or presbyter of Iona. They 
even consecrated other bishops : thus Finan laid hands 
upon Diuina, bishop of Middlesex. These British Chris- 
tians 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.* Somewhat later we find that neither 
the venerable Bede, nor Lanfranc, nor Anselm — the two 
last were archbishops of Canterbury— made any objec- 
tion to the ordination of British bishops by plain presby- 
ters, f 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 author- 
ity proceeded wholly from Jesus Christ its head. 

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 fond- 
ness for travelling had already become a second nature 
in this people.^ Men of God, burning with zeal, resolved 
to carry the evangelical torch to the Continent — to the 

• Idem est ergo presbyter qui episcopus, et antequam diaboli 
instinctu studia in religione fierent . . . communi presbyteroruni 
concilio Ecclesias gubernabantur. Indifferenter de episcopo quasi 
de prosbytero est loquutus (Paulus) . . . sciant episcopi se, magii 
consuetudine quam dispositionis dominicae veritate, presbyteris esse 
majores. Hieronymus ad Titum., 1, 5. 

t Bishop Munter makes this remark in his dissertation Onthi 
Ancient British Nation^ about the primitive identity of bishops and 
priests, and episcopal consecration. Stud, und Krit. an. 1833. 

% Natio Scotorum quibus consuetudo peregrinandi jam psene In 
Daturam con versa est. Vita S. Galli, § 47. 



38 HISTOBY OF THE ItEFOKMATION. 



vast wildernesses sprinkled here and there with barbar- 
ous and heathen tribes. They did not set forth as antag* 
onists 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 Caesars ; and that faith, 
the unerring sign of the presence of Jesus Christ, gav 
those whom it inspiied a right to evangelize the world, 
which Rome could not gainsay 

The missionary bishops* of Britain accordingly set 
forth and traversed the Low Countries, Gaul, Switzer- 
land, Germany, and even Italy.f 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 ColumbaJ — " feeling in his heart the burn- 
ing of the fire which the Lord had kindled upon earth, "§ 
quitted Bangor in 590 with twelve other missionaries, 
and carried the gospel to the Burgundians, Franks, and 
Swiss. He continued to preach it amid frequent perse- 
cutions, left his disciple Gall in Helvetia, and retired to 
Bobbio, where he died, honoring Christian Rome, but 
placing the church of Jerusalem above it,|| 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 plant- 

° They were called episcopi regionarii because they had no settled 
diocese. 

t Antiquo tempore doctissimi solebant magistri de Hibernia, 
Britanniam, Galliam, Italiam venire, et multos per ecclesias Christi 
fecisbe p^ofectus. Alcuin, Epp. 221. 

% Thierry, in his Hist, de la Conquete de VAngleterre, makes Co- 
lumba and Columbanus one personage. Columba preached the 
gospel in Scotland about 560, and died in 597 ; Columbanus preach 
ed among the Burgundians in 600, and died in 615. 

§ Ignjtum igne Domini desiderium. Mabillon, Acta, p. 9. 

|| Salva Ion* dominicae resurrectionis singulari prcerogativa. Co* 
lumb. Vita, § 10. 



MISSIONS OF THE BRITONS. 



39 



ing 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. 

Yet they should have done more ; they should have 
preached net 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 con- 
sidered their conquerors as the enemies of God and man, 
and shuddered while the} 7 pronounced their name,* 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. 

° Nefandi nominis Saxoni Deo hominibusque invisi. Gildas, 
Du oxcidio Britannia^. 



40 HISTOKY OF THE KE FORMATION, 



CHAPTER II. 

Pope Gregory the Great — Desires to reduce Britain — Policy of Greg 
ory 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— St. Peter scourges 
an archbishop— Oswald — His victory — Corman — Mission of Os* 
wald and Aidan — Death of Oswald. 

It is matter of fact that the spiritual life had waned 
in Italian Catholicism ; and in proportion as the heaven* 
ly spirit had become weak, the lust of dominion had 
grown strong. The Roman metropolitans and their del- 
egates 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 a senatorial 
famity, and already on the high road to honor, when he 
suddenly renounced the world, and transformed the pal- 
ace 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.* 
On the borders of the west, in the island of Great Brit- 
ain, was a Christian church independent of Rome. This 
must be conquered, and a favorable opportunity soon 
occurred. 

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 says, De Constantinopolitana ecclesia quia earn dubitof 
apostolic® sedi esse subjectam? Epp. lib. 9, ep. 12. 



EFFORTS TO SUBDUE BRITAIN. 41 



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 Eome, 
this crafty and energetic pontiff, "the last of the good 
and the first of the bad," as he has been called, deter- 
mined 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.* Was it thus with Gregory ? We must leave 
the question unanswered. 

Ethelbert king of Kent having married a Christian 
princess of Frank descent, the Roman bishop thought 
the conjunction favorable 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^ Nor was this all. 
He claimed also the support of the powerful Brunehilda, 
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.| Under such auspices the 
Romish mission arrived in England. The pope had 
made a skilful choice of his delegate. Augustine pos- 
sessed 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 

• We know the history of Tahiti and of other modern missioni 
of the Romish church. 

f Subjectos vestros. Opp. Gregorii, torn. 4, p. 334. 

% Prona in bonis operibus ... in omnipotentis Dei timora Ibid 
torn. 2, p. 83a. 



42 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



under the sceptre of Rome.* Gregory himself was &\& 
tressed at Augustine's spiritual pride, and often exhorted 
him to humility. 

Success of that kind which Popery desires soon 
crowned the labors of its servants. The forty-one mis- 
sionaries 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 wor- 
ship 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.f 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. 

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 

* We find the same idea in Wiseman, Lect. 9, On the principal 
Doctrines and Practices of the Catholic Church. London, 1836. 
f Hoepfner, De origine dogmatis de purgatorio. Halle, 1792, 



BRITAIN SUPERIOR TO ROME. 



43 



element is even strongly marked in some of the most 
eminent men of the theocracy — in Anselm, for instance. 

Yet as it is our task to relate the history of the 
struggles which took place between primitive Christi- 
anity 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 pres- 
ently have a proof of it* — that a visit to lona would 
have taught the Anglo-Saxons much more than their 
frequent pilgrimages to the banks of the Tiber. Doubt- 
less, 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 sev- 
enth century carried faith and civilization into Burgun- 
dy, 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 de- 
preciating, would have come later. 

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 con- 
quer 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 pos- 
sess 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. 

Augustine, appointed archbishop not only of the Sax- 
ons, but of the free Britons, was settled by Papal ordi- 
nance 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 
* In the history of Oswald, king of Northumberland. 



44 HISTORY OF THE BEFORMATIOK. 



existed at Bangor,* in North Wales, a large Christian 
society, amounting to nearly three thousand individuals, 
collected together to work with their own hands,f 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 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 cer- 
tain 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 preeminence 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 de- 
sire to love all men," meekly replied the venerable Brit- 
on ; " 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 Chris- 
tian."! This was not what Augustine asked. 

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 resist- 
ed with firmness the extravagant pretensions of Augus- 
tine, who again summoned him to recognize the author* 

• Bann-cor, the choir on the steep hill. Carlisle, Top. Diet 
Wales. 

f Ars unicuique dabatur, ut ex opere manuum quotidiano so 
posset in victu necessario continere. Preuves de l'hist. de Bre- 
tagne, 2, 25. 

X Istam obedientiam nos sumus parati dare et solvere ei et cuigut 
Christian*) continue Wilkins, Cone. M. Brit. 3 , 26. 



DISTRESS OF THE BRITONS. 



45 



ity of Rome.* Another Briton protested against the 
presumption of the Romans, who ascribed to their con- 
secration a virtue which they refused to that of Iona or 
of the Asiatic churches.f The Britons, exclaimed a 
third, "cannot submit either to the haughtiness of the 
Romans or the tyranny of the Saxons."J To no purpose 
lid the archbishop lavish his arguments, prayers, cen- 
sures, 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.§ 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.|| Thus did 
Augustine fail a second time, and the independence of 
Britain appeared secure. 

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 yok- 
ing 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 defend- 
ers 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 them- 
selves 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, 

° Dionothus de non approbanda apud cos Romanorum auctori- 
tate disputabat. Wilkins, Cone. M. Brit. 1, 24. 

f Ordinationesque more asiatico eisdem contulisse. Ibid. 24. 

$ In communionem admittere vel Romanorum fastum vel Sazo- 
uum tyrannidem. Ibid. 26. 

§ According to the apostolic precept, 1 Cor 5:9-11. 

J Dagamus ad nos veniens, non solum cibum nobisoum, sed net 
in eodein kospitio quo vescebamur , sumere noluit. Beda, lib. 2, cap 4 



46 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOllMATIOH. 



and inquired whether they should resist Augustine Of 
follow him.* "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.'' Thas 
spoke the oracle of Britain. It would have been better 
to have consulted the holy Scriptures. 

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 bish- 
ops entered the council-hall, and the archbishop, desir- 
ous of indicating his superiority, proudly kept his seat.f 
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 church- 
es 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 de- 
ceived 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."J Having thus spoken, 
the haughty archbishop withdrew, and occupied his last 
days in preparing the accomplishment of his ill-omened 
prophecy. § Argument had failed : now for the sword ! 

° Ad quendam virum sanctum et prudentem qui apud eos ana 
choreticam ducere vitam soleDat, consulentes an ad praedicationen. 
Augustiui suas deserere traditiones deberent. Beda, Hist. Eccl. 
lib. 2, cap. 2. 

t Factumque est ut venientibus illis seder et Augusticus in sella* 
Ibid. 

J Si pacem cum fructibus accipere nollent, bellum ab hostibua 
fbrent accepturi. . . . Ibid. 

§ Ipsum Augustinum hujus belli non modo conscium sed et tm- 



BOME HAS RECOUKSE TO THE SWORD. 41 



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 Ban- 
gor, 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 pris- 
tine piety : not to men, but to the Lord himself will 
they turn their thoughts. Twelve hundred and fifty ser- 
vants 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.* A British chief named Brocmail, 
moved by tender compassion, stationed himself near 
them with a few soldiers ; but the cruel Edelfrid, ob- 
serving 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 fight- 
ing then against us, although unarmed f and immedi- 
ately he ordered his soldieFS to fall upon the prostrate 
crowd. Twelve hundred of them were slain.f 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 Eng- 
land. 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 ac- 
complishment of the prophecy of the holy pontiff Augus- 
tine ;| and a national tradition among the Welsh for 

tndsorem exstitisse. Wilkins adds, that the expression found in Bede 
concerning the death of Augustine, is a parenthesis foisted in by 
Eomanist writers, and not found in the Saxon manuscripts. Cone. 
Brit. p. 26. 

° Ad memoratam aciem, peracto jejunio triduano, cum aliia 
orandi causa convenerant. Beda, lib. 2, cap. 2. 

\ Extinctos in ea pugna ferunt de his qui ad orandum venerunt 
eiroe circiter mille ducentos. Ibid. 

% Sic completum est presagium sancti pontificis Augustini. Ib* 



48 HISTOBY OF THE KEFORMATION. 



many ages pointed to him as the instigator of this cow 
ardly 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. 

But while the Saxon sword appeared to have swept 
every thing from before the Papacy, the ground trem- 
bled under its feet, and seemed about to swallow it up. 
The hierarchical rather than Christian conversions effect- 
ed 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. "St. 
Peter," he said, "appeared to me during the night, and 
scourged me severely because I was about to forsake 
his flock."* The scourge was a means of moral persua- 
sion 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 acknow- 
ledged the authority of the Pope, the vicar of an apostle 
who so mercilessly scourged those who had the mis- 
fortune to displease him. If the dominion of Rome had 
then disappeared from England, it is probable that the 
Britons, regaining their courage, and favored in other 

° Apparuit ei beatissimus apostolonim princeps, et multo ilium 
tempore secrete noctis flagellis acrioribus afficiens. Beda, lib. 2, 
cap. 6. 



OSWALD'S VICTORY. 



49 



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 con- 
querors. 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. 

Oswald, an Anglo-Saxon prince, son of the heathen 
and cruel Edelfrid, had been compelled by family rever- 
ses to take refuge in Scotland when very young, accom- 
panied 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.* 
He loved to sit at the feet of the elders of Iona and lis- 
ten td 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 coyer the na- 
kedness 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 lead- 
ing 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, f he entered Nor- 
thumberland, knelt with his troops in prayer on the field 

• Cum magna nobilium juventute apud Scotos sive Pictos exu- 
labant, ibique ad doctrinam Scottorum cathechisati et baptismatis 
gratia sunt recreati. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 1. 

f Superveniente cum parvo exercitu, sed fide Christi munito. Ib 

HSst. ofRef.,T<4, V. A 



50 HIBTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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.* The Christianity taught in 
625 to king Edwin and the Northumbrians by Pendin 
of York had disappeared amid the ravages of the Pagai 
armies. Oswald requested a missionary from the Scot! 
who had given him an asylum, and they accordingly 
sent one of the brethren named Gorman, a pious but un- 
cultivated 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, 0 
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 
lixed on the man who spoke so wisely. " Aidan is wor- 
thy 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.f 

Oswald received Aidan as an angel from heaven, and 
as the missionary was ignorant of the Saxon language, 
the king accompanied him everywhere, standing by his 
side and interpreting his gentle discourses.^ The peo- 
ple crowded joyfully around Oswald, Aidan, and other 

° Desiderans totam cui praeesse ccepit gentem fidei Christian* 
gratia imbui. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 3. 

f Aydanus accepto gradu episcopatus, quo tempore eodem mo* 
nasterio Segenius abbas)et presbyter praafuit. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 5. 
When Bede tells us that a plain priest was president, he excludes 
the idea that th^re were bishops in the assembly. See 1 Tim. 4. 1*4. 

% Evangelisante antistite, ipse Rex suis ducibus ac ministries u* 
terpres verbi exUteret ccelesfcis. Beda, lib 3. cap 8. 



DEATH OF OSWALD. 



51 



missionaries from Scotland and Ireland, listening eager- 
ly to the word of God* 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 inform- 
ed that a crowd of his subjects, driven by hunger, had 
collected before his palace gates. Instantly he ordered 
he food prepared for himself to be carried out and dis- 
ributed 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. 

His death did not interrupt the labors of the mission- 
aries. 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 oflife.f The 
faith which the terrible Edelfrid thought he had washed 
away in the blood of the worshippers of God, was reap- 
pearing 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. 

• Confluebant ad audiendum verbum Dei popuii gaudentes. Beda, 
lib. 3, cap. 3. 

f Mox congregati in unum vicani, verbum vitw ab illo exjxfeffe 
caxab&Qt Ibid. lib. 3, cap. 26. 



52 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER III 

Character of Oswy — Death of Aidan — Wilfrid at Rome — At Os- 
wald'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 hi 
England — Papal exultation — Archbishop Theodore — Cedda re- 
ordained — Discord in the church — Disgrace and treachery oi 
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. 

Then uprose 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 wit- 
ness 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 in- 
crease 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 favors. But the 
latter offered to lead Oswy's soldiers to his hiding-place; 
and at dead of night the fugitive king was basely assas- 
sinated, one only of his servants fighting in his defence 
The gentle Aidan died of sorrow at his cruel fate.* Such 
was the first exploit of that monarch who surrendered 

• Aydanus duodecimo post occisionem regis quern amabat die, 
de seculo ablatus. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 14. 



WILFRID AT ROME. 



53 



England to the Papacy. Various circumstances tended 
to draw Oswy nearer Rome. He looked upon the Chris- 
tian 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 Roman as, 
a man worthy of the name. He zealously maintained 
the rites of the Latin church, and accordingly the festi- 
val of Easter was celebrated at court twice in the year ; 
for while the king, following the eastern rule, was joy- 
fully commemorating the resurrection of our Lord, the 
queen, who adopted the Roman ritual, was keeping 
Palm Sunday with fasting and humiliation.* EanfeFd 
and Rom anus would often converse together on the 
means of winning over North uniberland to the papacy. 
But the first step was to increase the number of its par- 
tisans, and the opportunity soon occurred. 

A young Northumbrian named Wilfrid was one day 
admitted to an audience of the queen. H«e was a comely 
man, of extensive knowledge, keen wit, and enterpris- 
ing character, of indefatigable activity, and insatiable 
anrbition.f In this interview he remarked to Eanfeld, 
11 The way which the Scotch teach us is not perfect ; 1 
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 im- 
mediately became on the most friendly footing with Arch- 
deacon Boniface, the pope's favorite councillor. He soon 
discovered that the priests of France and Italy possessed 

° Cum rex pascha dominicum solutis jeiuniis faceret, tunc regina 
cum suis persistens adhuc in jejunio diem Palmarum celebraret. 
Beda, lib. 3, cap. 25. 

f Acris erat ingenii . . . gratia venusti vultus, alacritate actio* 
nls. Ibid., lib. 5, p. 135. 



54 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



more power both in ecclesiastical and secular matters 
than the humble missionaries of Iona ; and his thirst for 
honors was inflamed at the court of the pontiffs. If he 
should succeed in making England submit to the papa- 
cy, 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 ear 
gerly summoned him to court. A fanatical queen, from 
whom he might hope every thing ; a king with no relig 
ious 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 discern- 
ment 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 Ly 
the sword of Edelfrid, she could only expect to gain a 
second by craft and management. He came to an under- 
standing 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. 

The elders of Iona could not shut their eyes to the 
iangers which threatened Northumberland. They had 
Bent Finan to supply Aidan's place, and this bishop, con- 
secrated 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 ambi- 
tion and audacity. He had openly opposed the pontiff's 
agents, and his frequent contests had confirmed him in 
ohe truth.* 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 sim- 
ple-minded but stout-hearted man, one determined to op* 
pose a front of adamant to the wiles of the seducers. 

Yet Eanfeld, Wilfrid, and Romanus were skilfully 
digging the mine that was to destroy the apostolic 

• ApTtum veritatis adversarium reddidit, says the Roman tot 
Bode, lib 5, r 135 



CONQUESTS AND TROUBLES OF OSWY. 55 



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 do- 
mestic 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 con- 
troverted 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 
t*' these disputes, inclined first to one side and then to 
the other, as if he would soon fall altogether. 

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 Fenda, wiio 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 Peuda. But Peada him- 
self having fallen in a conspiracy said to have been got 
up by his wife the daughter of Oswy, the latter com- 
pleted the conquest of Mercia, and thus united the great- 
est 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 prema- 
ture death of A;dan, and other things besides, troubled 
the king's breast. He desired to appease the Deity he 
Lad otiendcd, and not knowing that Christ is the door 
as holy Scripture tells us, he sought among men for a 
dijvi keeper who would open to him the kingdom of heav- 
en. He was far from being the last of those kings whom 
the necessity of expiating their crimes impelled towards 
Romish practices. The craity Wiifnd, keeping alive 
both the hopes and fears of the prince, oftei spoke to 



56 H1ST0EY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 dispu- 
tation, 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 adversa- 
ries. 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 Ean- 
feld to the conference, and he arrived in Northumberland 
attended by a priest named Agathon. Alas, poor Brit- 
ish 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 Strense- 
shalh, or Whitby, of which Hilda, the pious daughter of 
King Edwin, was abbess. She too was desirous of see- 
ing a term nation of the violent' disputes which had agi- 
tated the church since Wilfrid's return. On the shores 
of the North sea* the struggle was to be decided be- 
tween Britain and Rome, between the East and the West, 
or, as they said then, between St. John and St. 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 cun- 
ning she concealed her enormous pretensions under sec- 
ondary questions, and rnanj superficial thinkers were 
deceived by this manoeuvre. 

The meeting took place in the convent oi Whitby. 
The king and his son entered first ; then, on the one 
side, Colnian, with the bishops and elders of the Brit- 
ons ; and on the other, Bishop Agilbert, Agathon, Wil- 

° This conference is generally known as the Synodus Pharenm 
from Strerui'shalh, sinus Pluiri. " Hodie WkJtbie dicitur, (White bay,] 
et est villa in Eboracensi littore satis nota." W'lkins, Concil., p 
37, note. 



CEDDA— THE DISPUTATION. 



5T 



fh*d, 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.* He had at first preached the gospel in the mid- 
land 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 or- 
dained by the elders of lona. Then proceeding west- 
ward, the indefatigable evangelist founded churches, and 
appointed elders and deacons wherever he went.f By 
birth an Englishman, by ordination a Scotchman, every- 
where treated with respect and consideration, he ap- 
peared to be set apart as mediator in this solemn con- 
ference. 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 main- 
tained 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 apodolical canons to rules which 
the apostles had never known. They even went further 
than this : at Rome and in the East ecclesiasticism rep- 
resented 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. 

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 

* Presbyteri Cedda et Adda et Berti et Duina, quorum ultimus 
natione Scotus, ca>teri fuere Angli. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 21. 

f Qui accepto gradu episcopatus et majore auctoritate cueptuni 
opus explens, fecit per loea ecclesias, presbyteros et diaconos ordina 
rit. Ibid., cap. 22. 



58 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



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 teach- 
ing of Columba, of the blessed evangelist John,* and of 
the churches over which that apostle presided." 

" As for us," boldly rejoined Wilfrid — for to him as to 
the m#st skilful had Bishop Agilbert intrusted the de- 
fence 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 ?f However holy your Columba may 
have been, will you prefer him to the prince of the apos- 
tles, to whom Christ said, 'Thou art Peter, and I will 
give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven V " 

Wilfrid spoke with animation, and his words being 
skilfu-lly adapted to his audience, began to make them 
waver. He had artfully substituted Columba for the 
apostle John, from whom the British church claimed de- 
scent, and opposed to St. 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 ex- 
claimed with emotion, " Is it true, Colman, that these 
words were addressed by our Lord to St. Peter ?" " It 
is true." " Can you prove that similar powers were 
given to your Columba ?" The bishop replied, " We can- 
not ;" but he might have told the king, " John, whose 
doctrines we follow, and indeed every disciple, has re- 
ceived in the same sense as St. Peter the power to remit 
sins, to bind and to loose on earth and in heaven." John 
20 : 23 ; Matt. 18 : 18. But the knowledge of the holy 

0 Ipsum est quod beatus evangelista Johannes, discipulus spe- 
daliter Domino diJectus. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 25. 

f Pictos dico ac Brittones, cum quibus de duabus ultimii ocean] 
Invilis contra totum orbem stulto labore pugnant. Ibid. 



TBIUMPH OF BOME. 



59 



Scriptures was fading away in Iona, and the unsuspect- 
ing Oolraan had not observed Wilfrid's stratagem in sub- 
stituting Columba for St. John. Upon this Oswy, de- 
lighted 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 tho 
gate there should be no one to open it to me."* The 
spectators, carried away by this royal confession, has* 
tened to give in their submission to the vicar of St. 
Peter. 

Thus did Rome triumph at the Whitby conference. 
Oswy forgot that the Lord had said, "I am he that open- 
eth, and no man shutteth ; and shutteth, and no man 
openeth." John 10:9; Rev. 3:7. It was by ascribing 
to Peter the servant what belongs to Jesus Christ the 
Master, that the Papacy reduced Britain. Oswy stretch- 
ed out his hands, Rome riveted the chains, and the lib- 
erty which Oswald had given his church seemed at the 
last gasp. 

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 be- 
neath 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 in- 
tense day by day among the remainder of the Britons. 
Determined to repel its erroneous dogmas and its ille 
gitimate 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 west- 

• Ne forte me adveniente ad fores regoi ccelorum, non sit qui 
fesarat. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 26. 



60 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



era 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 min- 
isters who defended not the flock of the Lord against the 
wolves of Rome.* But vain were their lamentations. 

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 immedi- 
ately visited Paris to receive episcopal consecration in 
due form. He soon returned, and proceeded with sin- 
gular activity to establish the Romish doctrine in all the 
churches.f Bishop of a diocese extending from Edin- 
burgh to Northampton, enriched with the goods which 
had belonged to divers monasteries, surrounded by a 
numerous train, served upon gold and silver plate, Wil- 
frid 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 con- 
secration as archbishop of Canterbury. There was no 
episcopal ordination in England worthy of a priest. In 
the mean while Oswy, with all the zeal of a new con- 
vert, 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. J 

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 

• Horae Britannicae, b. 2, p. 277. 

f Ipse perplura catholieas observations moderamina eccleaiifl 
Anglorum sua doctrina contulit. Beda, lib. 3, cap. 28. 

J Omnes subjectos suos meditatur die ac n^cte ad fidem catholl- 
cam atque apostolicam pro suae aniinae redemptione converti. Ibid., 
cap. 29 



EXULTATION OF THE TOPB. 61 

and servile to the emperor, exclaimed with transport, 
" Who would not be overjoyed ?* a king converted to 
the true apostolic faith, a people that believes at last in 
Christ the Almighty God I" For many long years this 
people had believed in Christ, but they were now begin- 
ning to believe in the pope, and the pope will soon make 
them forget Jesus the Saviour. Vitalian wrote to Oswy f 
and sent him, not copies of the holy Scriptures, which 
were already becoming scarce at Rome, but relics oi 
the Saints Peter, John, Lawrence, Gregory, and Pancra- 
tius ; and being in an especial manner desirous of re- 
warding 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.f " Delay not," said the pope in conclusion, " to 
reduce all your island under Jesus Christ," or in other 
words, under the bishop of Rome. 

The essential thing, however, was to send an arch- 
bishop from Rome to Britain ; but Wighard was dead, 
and no one seemed willing to undertake so long a jour- 
ney.! 

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 theii 
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 

° Quis enim audiens haec suavia non laetetur? Beda, lib. 3, 
cap. 29. 

f Conjugi, nostras spirituali filiae, crucem. . . . Ibid. 
t Minima voluimus nunc reperire pro lon^inquitate itinerfc 
W4. 



62 HISTOBY OF THE BEFORMATION 



rather, as overseer, a zealous African monk named 
Adrian.* 

Theodore began the great crusade against British 
Christianity ; and endeavoring to show the sincerity of 
his conversion by his zeal, he traversed all England in 
company with Adrian,f everywhere imposing on the 
people that ecclesiastical supremacy to which Rome is 
indebted for her political supremacy. The superiority 
of character which distinguished St. Peter, Theodore 
transformed into a superiority of office. For the juris- 
diction 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 un 
broken 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 need- 
ful 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 Com- 
forter who shall be with it for ever and ever. 

The grand defection now began : the best were some- 
times the first to yield. When Theodore met Cedda, who 
had been consecrated by a bishop who had himself re- 
ceived ordination from the elders of Iona, he said to him, 
u You have not been regularly ordained." Cedda, instead 
of standing up boldly for the truth, gave way to a car- 
nal modesty, and replied, " I never thought myself wor- 
thy of the episcopate, and am ready to lay it down.* 
"No," said Theodore, "you shall remain a bishop, but 1 
will consecrate you anew according to the Catholic rit- 
ual."! The British minister submitted. Rome, trium- 

° Ut diligenter attenderet, ne quid ille contrarium veritati fldei, 
Grarcorum more, in ecclesiam cui praeesset introduceret. Beda, lib. 
4, cap. 1. 

t Peragrata insula tota, Tectum vivendi ordinem disseminabai 
IWd., cap. 2. 

| Cum Ceadda Episcopum argueret non fuisse rite consecratum, 



DISCOBD IN THE CHUItCH. 



63 



pha.nt, felt herself strong enough to deny the imposition 
of hands of the elders of Iona, which she had hitherto 
recognized. The most steadfast believers took refuge in 
Scotland. 

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 occur- 
rence. Wilfrid, who had fixed his residence at York, 
thought that no one deserved better than he to be pri- 
mate 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 Wil- 
frid was his favorite: but erelong 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.* " If you will be my 
guide to the city of the apostles," he sraid 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 
610 A. D. 

The Witan set aside Prince Alfred, and raised his 
youngest brother Egfrid to the throne. The new mon- 
arch, who had often been offended by Wilfrid's inso- 
lence, denounced this haughty prelate to the archbishop. 
Nothing could be more agreeable to Theodore. He 
assembled a council at Hertford, before which the chiei 
of his converts were first summoned, and presenting tc 
them, not the holy Scripture, but the canons of the Rom- 
ish church^ he received their solemn oaths : such was 
the religion then taught in England. But this was not 
•til. " The diocese of our brother Wilfrid is so exten- 
sive, " said the primate, " that there is room in it for four 

(pee (Theodoras) ordi&ationem ejus denuo catholica ratione consum- 
mavit. Beda, lib. 4, cap. 2. 

• Ut si ab infirmitate salvaretur, etiam Romam venire, ibiqut 
id loca sancta vitam tin ire. Ibid. 

f Quibus statim protuli eundem lihrum canonum. Ibid., cap. £ 



64 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 him- 
self 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, (6t9,) the Englishman pre- 
sented his complaint, and the pontiff declared the desti- 
tution 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. 

Wilfrid- — for we must follow even to the end of his 
life that remarkable man, who exercised so great an in- 
fluence over the destinies of the English church — Wilfrid 
was determined to be a bishop at any cost. The king- 
dom of Sussex was still pagan ; and the deposed prelate ; 
whose indefatigable activity we cannot but acknow- 
ledge, 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 stfbjects 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 Cead walla king of Wessex, and this cruel 
chieftain made a fierce inroad into Sussex, laying it 
waste, and putting to death Edilwalch, the prelate's ben- 
efactor. 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 w&s restored to him, and he forthwith began to plun 



SCOTLAND ATTACKED — ADAMNAN. 65 



der others to enrich himself. A council begged him to 
submit to the decrees of the church of England ; he re- 
fused, 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 
1 the suppliant bishop Wilfrid, the humble slave of the 
servant of God, implored the favor of our most blessed 
lord the pope universal." The bishop could not restore 
his creature to his see, and the short remainder of Wil- 
frid's life was spent in the midst of the riches his cupid- 
ity had so unworthily accumulated. 

Yet he had accomplished the task of his life : all Eng- 
land was subservient to the Papacy. The names of Oswy 
and of Wilfrid sL juld 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 flour- 
ished in England. Still this very forge tfulness 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 perpet- 
uate their memory. 

But Scotland was still free, and to secure the defini- 
tive 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 relig- 
ion had little spirituality. To gain him was in the eyes 
of Rome to gain Scotland. A singular circumstance 
favored the plans of those who desired to draw him into 
the papal communion. One day during a violent tem- 
pest, a ship coming from the Holy Land, and on board 
of which was a Gaulish bishop named Arculf, was 
wrecked in the neighborhood of Iona.* Arculf eagerly 
sought an asylum among the pious inhabitants of that 

° Vi tempestatis in occidentalia Britanniae littora delatus est 
Beda, lib. £, cap. 1G. 



66 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



island. Adamnan never grew tired of hearing the strain 
ger's descriptions of Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Golgo- 
tha, of the sun-burnt plains over which our Lord had 
wandered, and the cleft stone which still lay before the 
door of the sepulchre.* The elder of Iona, who prided 
himself on his learning, noted down ArculPs conversa- 
tion, 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, f who 
being fond of learning and of the Christian traditions, 
caused a number of copies of it to be made. 

Nor was this all : the Romish clergy perceived the 
advantage they might derive from this imprudent jour- 
ney. 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 obser- 
vances of the universal church ?"J The nobles of the 
court flattered the author's self-love, and invited him to 
their festivities, while the king loaded him with pres- 
ents. 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 pur- 
pose ; Iona would not give way.§ He then went to 
hide his shame in Ireland, where, having brought a few 
individuals to tin Romish uniformity, he took courage 
and revisited Scotland. But that country, still inflexi- 
ble, repelled him with indignation. || 

• Lapis qui ad ostium monumenti positus erat, fissus est. Beda, 
lib. 6, cap. 17. 

t Porrexit autem librum tunc Adamnanus Alfrido regi. Ibid., 
cap. 16. 

t Ne contra universalem ecclesiae morem, cum suis paucissimii 
et in extiemo mundi angulo positis, vivere pnesumeret. Ibid. 

§ Curavit suos ad eum veritatis calcem producere, nec voluit. 
Ibid. 

1 Nec tamen perucere quod conabatur posset. Ibid. The con* 



NAITAM CONVERTED TO ROMANISM. 6t 



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, 
11 to belong to the powerful church of the universal pon- 
tiff 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 Ro- 
man ceremonial accords with the pomp of royalty, and 
its temples are palaces." The prince was convinced by 
the last argument. He despatched messengers to Ceol-- 
frid, the abbot of an English convent, begging him to 
send him architects capable of building a church after the 
Roman pattern* — 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 him- 
self the equal of Clovis and Clotaire, assembled the no- 
bles 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 St. Peter."f Then 
without delay, as Bede informs us, this important revo- 
lution was accomplished by royal authority. J 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.^ It was the mark thai 
popery stamped, not on the forehead, but on the crown. 
A royal proclamation and a few clips of the scissors 

versions of which Abbot Ceolfrid speaks in chapter 22 are probably 
those effected in Ireland, the word Scotia being at tb\s period fre- 
quently applied to that country. 

° Architectos sibi mitti petiit qui juxta morem Romanorum ec 
clesiam facerent. Beda, lib. 6, cap. 22. 

t Et hanc accipere tonsuram, omnes qui in meo regno sunt cle* 
ricos decerno. Ibid. 

J Nec mora, qu?e dixerat regia auctoritate perfecit. Ibid. 

§ Per universas Pictorum provincias . . , tondebantur omnes in 
ooronam minis tri altaris ac monacni Ibid. 



63 HISTOBY. OF THE BEFORMATION. 

placed the Scotch, like a flock of sheep, beneath the 
crook of the shepherd of the Tiber. 

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 rilled 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 exter- 
nal 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 at- 
tacked the traditions of the British church,* and lavishly 
distributing the rich presents confided to him by the 
lords of Ireland and of England, f 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." 

Some pious souls, however, still held out in Iona. 
The enthusiastic 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 commis- 
sioned me to convert Iona ; and then he told the follow- 

° Sedulis exhortationibus inveteratam illam traditionem par 
rentuui comm. Beda, lib. 5, cap. 23. 

f Pietate largiendi de his quad a divitibus acceperat, multum 
profuit. Ibid., cap. 27. 



MONKISH VISIONS. 



69 



ingliistory 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.* There my whole body trembled at the recoU 
lection of my sins, and my face was bathed with tears. 
4 0 God/ I exclaimed, ' suffer me not to die until I have 
redeemed my debt to thee by an abundance of good 
works.'f 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, 
4 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. 

" 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 ap- 
peared 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/J I forbade this brother to speak 
of his vision, and went on board a ship bound for Ger- 
many. We were waiting for a favorable 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 

• Cum se existimaret esse moriturum, egressus est tempore ma- 
tutino de cubiculo, et residens solus Beda, lib. 3, cap. 27. 

t Precabatur ne adhuc mori deberet priusquam vel prseteritai 
negligentias aperfectim ex tempore castigaret, vel in bonis se operi- 
bus abundantius exerceret. Ibid. 

% Quia aratra eorum non recte incedunt ; oportet a u tern eum ad 
rectum haec tramitem revocare. Ibid. 



70 HISTOEY OP TIIE REFORMATION. 

left Ireland and came among you, in order to pay my 
debt by converting you. And now," continued Ebgert, 
" make answer to the voice of heaven, and submit ta 
Kome." 

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 every thing 
appeared miraculous ; phantoms and apparitions had 
more weight than the word of God. Instead of detect- 
ing 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 prim- 
itive 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, per- 
ceiving 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 stum- 
bled and fell. The scissors were brought ; they received 
the Latin tonsure* — they were the pope's. 

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 
;he 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.f But the leaders ot 
the state and of the church had laid down their arms 
The contest was over, after lasting more than a cen- 

• Ad ritum tonsurse canonicum sub figura coronae perpetuaB. 
Beda, lib. 5, cap. 23. 

f Sicut e contra Brittones, inveterati et claudicantes a semitif 
Buis, et capita ferre sine corona pn&tendunt. Ibid. 



FALL OF IONA. 



71 



tttry. 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 me&ns 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. 



12 bibtob* of mt rmo&matioh. 



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 relig- 
ion — Alfred and the Bible — Darkness and Popery — William the 
Conqueror — Wulston at Edward's tomb — Struggle between 
William and Hildebraud — The Pope yields — Caesaropapia. 

The independent Christians of Scotland, who sub- 
ordinated the authority of man to that of God, were 
filled with sorrow as they beheld these backslidings ; 
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. 

At the commencement of the eighth century a great 
idea took possession of a pious doctor of the Scottish 
church named Clement.* 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 charac- 
ter 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 trav- 
elled among the Franks, everywhere scattering the seeds 
of the faith. It happened unfortunately that a man of 
kindred energy, Winnifrid 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 

° Alter qui dicitur Clemens, genere Scotus est. Bonifacii episto* 
1& ad Papain, Labbei concilia ad ann. 745. 



THE WORD OF OOt) ALONE. ?3 

pope a collection of the Roman laws. Boniface, hence* 
forth 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 consequence* 
might be incalculable. 

Alarmed at the progress made by Clement's evan- 
gelical doctrines, Boniface, archbishop of the German 
churches, undertook to oppose them. At first he con- 
fronted the Scotchman with the laws of the Roman 
church ; but the latter denied the authority of these 
ecclesiastical canons, and refuted their contents.* Bon- 
iface 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.f 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.J 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 oppo- 
nent maintained that there only where the Holy Spirit 
dwells, can be found the spouse of Jesus Christ. § Vain- 
ly did the archbishop express his horror ; Clement was 
not to be turned aside from his great idea, either by the 
clamors of the followers of Rome, or by the imprudent 
attacks made on the Papacy by other Christian ministers. 

• Canones ecclesiarum Christi abnegat et refutat. Bonifacii 
epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia ad ann. 745. 
f Synodal ia jura spernens. Ibid. 

% Tractatus et sermones sanctorum patrum, Hieronymi, Augx» 
tlni, Gregorii recusat. Ibid. 

§ Clemens contra catholicam oontendit ecclesiam. Ibid, 
nut w P.«f. , y*l v. 



14 HISTOEY OF THE BEEOKMATION. 



Rome had indeed other adversaries. A Gallic bishop 
named Adalbert, with whom Boniface affected to associ- 
ate 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 show- 
ing the ridiculous character of these Romish practices, 
he distributed among the bystanders his own hair and 
nails, praying them to pay these the same honors as 
Boniface claimed for the relics of the Papacy. Clement 
smiled, like many others, at Adalbert's singular argu- 
ment; 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 Ro- 
manism. At the same time he maintained on predesti 
nation what the archbishop called " horrible doctrines, 
contrary to the Catholic faith."* Clement's character 
inclines us to believe that he was favorable to the doc- 
trine of predestination. A century later the pious Gotts- 
chalk 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 enlight- 
ened than the common people, thronged around him. If 
Clement had succeeded, a Christian church would have 
been founded on the continent independent of the Pa- 
pacy. 

Boniface was confounded. He wished to do in Cen 
tral 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. 

• Multa alia horrihilia prsedestinatione Dei, contraria fidei ca- 
tholics at fir mat. Bomfacij epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia ad 
non. 74o. 



CLEMENT CONDEMNED. 



75 



The bishops, counts, and other notabilities having 
met at Soissons on the 2d of March, 744, Boniface ac- 
cused 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 accord- 
iigly excommunicated by Boniface, at once his adver- 
aary, accuser, and judge, and thrown into prison, with 
the approbation of the pope and the king of the Franks.* 

The Scotchman's cause was everywhere 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.f 
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.J 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. 

Clement was not the only Briton who became distin- 
guished in this contest. Two fellow-countrymen, Samp- 
sou 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.§ He 
was denounced by Boniface for this heresy, and con* 

* Sacerdotio privans, reduci facit in custodiam. Concilium Ro 
manum. Bonifacii epistola ad Papam, Labbei concilia ad ann. 746. 

f Propter istas enim, persecutions et inimicitias et maledictio- 
nes multorum populorum patior. Ibid. 

% Poculum argenteum et sindonem unam. Gemuli Ep. Ibid. 

§ Perversa ductrina . . . quod alius mundus et alii homing sub 
terra Bint. Zaoh&riae papae Ep. ad Bonif. Labbei concilia, 6, p 102 



t6 HISTORY OF THE BEPORMATIOU. 



demned by the pope, as were other Britons for the apofih 
tolical simplicity of their lives. In 813, certain Scotch* 
men who called themselves bishops, says a canon, hav- 
ing appeared before a council of the Roman church at 
Chalons, 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. 

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

At first we see the dawning of that philosophic 
rationalism which gives out a certain degree of bright- 
ness, but which can neither conquer error, nor still less 
establish truth. In the ninth century there was a learn- 
ed scholar in Ireland, who afterwards settled at the 
court of Charles the Bald. He was a strange mysteri- 
ous 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 philo- 
sophic 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 
tht 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 ow 



DUNS SCOTUS. 



77 



selves 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 ths 
other theophanies. We must first employ reason, and 
then authority. Authority proceeds from reason, and 
not reason from authority."* Yet this bold thinker, 
when on his knees, could give way to aspirations full 
of piety. "0 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 savoring of Pantheism.f 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 cen- 
turies, to be taught once more in Great Britain as a 
modern invention of the most enlightened age. 

While Scot was thus plumbing the depths of philos- 
ophy, 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 labor for the regeneratiou of Chris- 
tendom. A youthful prince, thirsting for intellectual 
enjoyment, 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 811. Alfred being convinced that 
Christianity alone could rightly mould a nation, assem- 
bled round him the most learned men from all parts of 

0 Priiis ratione utendum ac deinde auctoritate. Auctoritas ex 
vera ratione processit, ratio vero nequaquam ex auctoritate. De 
dir. praedestin. 

f Deum in omnibus esse. Pe division© naturae, b. 74. 



18 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 

ght more than fifty battles by land and sea, he died 
while translating the Psalms of David for his subjects.* 

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 estab- 
lished 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: Eng- 
land 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 Protes- 
tantism in England. 

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 be 
learned to resist Rome, as if the ancient liberty of the 
British church had revived In him. Being firmly resolv- 
ed 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 tLan 

• A portion of the law of God translated by Alfred may be found 
In Wilkins, Concilia, 1, p. 186, et seq. 



WTTLSTON AT EDWARD'S TOMB. ?9 

that of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. The Papacy itself 
furnished him with weapons. The Roman legates pre- 
vailed 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, arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, was removed, and Lanfranc ot 
Pavia, who had been summoned from Bee 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, not 
withstanding the threats of the pope, and applied him- 
self 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 fervor. " 0 king," he said, 
"from a better man than you I received it, and to him 
only will I return it."* Unhappily this " better man" 
was not Jesus Christ. Then approaching the tomb of 
Edward the Confessor, he continued, " 0 my master, it 
was you who compelled me to assume this office ; but 
now behold a new king and a new primate who promul- 
gate new laws. Not unto them, 0 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 per 
ished the liberty of the Anglo-Saxon hierarchy. The 
deprived Saxon bishops were consigned to fortresses or 
shut up in convents. 

The Conqueror being thus assured of the obedience 

° Divino animi ardore repente inflammatus, regi inquit : Melior 
|e Us me ornavit cui et reddam. Wilkins, Concilia, 1, 367. 



80 HISTOBY OP THE REFORMATION. 



of the bishops, put forward the supremacy of the sword 
in opposition to that of the pope. He nominated direct- 
ly 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 excommuni- 
cate his officers without his consent, not even for incest, 
and declared that all synodal decisions must be counter- 
signed 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."* 
Lanfranc was astonished at this daring speech, but pru- 
dently kept silent,| for a time at least. Episcopacy 
connived at the royal pretensions. 

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 haughti- 
est of pontiffs was seen to yield as soon as he felt the 
mail-clad hand of the Conqueror, and to shrink unresist- 
ingly 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 Eng- 
land, and Hildebrand submitted. The king went even 
farther: the pope, wishing to enslave the clergy, do 
prived the priests of their lawful wives ; William got a 
decree passed by the council 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.J 
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 

° Respondit rex et dixit se velle omnes baculos pastorales An- 
gliae in manu sua tenere. Script. Anglic. Lond. 1652, fol. p. 1827. 

f Lanfranc ad hasc miratus est, sed propter majores ecclesiae Christi 
utilitates, quas sine rege perncere non potuit, ad tempus siluit. Ib. 

J Sacerdotes vero in castellis vel in vicis habitantes habentei 
uxoms, non cogantur ut dimittant. Wilkins. Concilia, 1, p. 867. 



THE POPE GIVES WAT. 



81 



out.** ... 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 Hilde- 
brand saw the tribute which the king had paid, he said 
bitterly, "What value can I set on money which is con- 
tributed with so little honor !"f William forbade hi& 
clergy to recognize the pope, or to publish a bull with- 
out the royal approbation, which did not prevent Hilde- 
brand from styling him "The pearl of princes."^ "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 ."§ In 
this manner the pope acted like the archbishop — siluit: 
he was silent. It is for feeble governments that Rome 
reserves her energies. 

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 
Eufus went even to greater lengths than his father. Tak- 
ing advantage of the schism which divided the Papacy, 
he did without a pope for ten years, leaving abbeys, bish- 
oprics, and even Canterbury vacant, and scandalously 
squandering their revenues. Cassaropapia — which trans- 
forms a king into a pope — having thus attained its great- 
est 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. 

° Nemo enim omnium regum, etiam paganorum. . . . Greg, 
lib. 7, Ep. 1, ad Hubert. 

f Peeunias sine honore tributas, quanti pretii habeam. Ibid. 

% Gemma principum esse meruisti. Ibid. Ep. 23, ad Gulielm. 

§ Facilius lenitatis dulcedine ac rationis ostensione, quam ausfce- 
ritate vel rigore justitiae. Ibid. Ep. 6, ad Hugonem 

6 



82 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER V. 

Anselm* s firmness — Becket's austerity — The king scourged -John 
becomes the pope's vassal — Collision between Popery and libeiw 
ty — The vassal king ravages his kingdom — Religion of the sense 
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. 

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 hib 
pious mother Ermenberga, and believing that God'a 
throne was placed on the summit of the gigantic moun- 
tains he saw rising around him, the child Anselm climb- 
ed them in his dreams, and received the bread of heaven 
from the hands of the Lord. Unhappily in after-years 
he recognized 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 Bee, 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 to- 
gether an old and timid sheep like me and that wild 
bull V 1 At length he accepted ; and concealing a mind 
of great power under an appearance of humility, he had 
hardly arrived in England before he recognized Pope 
Urban II., demanded the estates of his see which the 
treasury had seized upon, refused to pay the king the 



THOMAS JACKET. 



83 



Bums he demanded, contested the right of investiture 
against Henry I., forbade all ecclesiastics to take the 
feudal oath, and determined that the priests should forth- 
with 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 rireted by a 
still more energetic hand ; and what this great theolo- 
giau 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 sol- 
dier, he was appointed at the same time by the king pre- 
bend 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 bish- 
oprics, 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 
favor and yours, remember it is yours that I shall sac- 
rifice." 

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 sack 
cloth 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 undor his protec- 
tion 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 



84 HISTORY OF TH*i REFORMATION. 



been committed by ecclesiastics, the king in 1164 sum* 
moned a council at Clarendon, in which certain regula* 
tions 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 be- 
tween 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 peo- 
ple looked upon Becket as a saint : immense crowds 
came to pray at his tomb, at which many miracles were 
worked.* " Even from his grave," said Becket's parti- 
sans, "he renders his testimony in behalf of the Pa- 
pacy." 

Henry now passed from one extreme to the other 
He entered Canterbury barefooted, and prostrated him- 
self 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, ac- 
cording to their rank, on the naked shoulders of the king. 
In former ages, so the priestly fable ran, St. 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 Plan- 
tagenet surrendered England to the pope, and the pope 
gave him authority to subdue Ireland.f 

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 nom- 
inated by Pope Innocent III., the latter, more daring 

• In loco passionis et ubi sepultus est, paralytici curantur, coed 
vident,surdi audiunt. Johan. Salisb. Epp. 286. 

f Signiticasti si quidem nobis, fili carissime, te Hiberniae insulam 
ad Bubdendnm ilium populum velle intrare, nos itaque gratiun et 
aoceptum habemus ut pro dilatandis ecclesiae t^rminis insulam u> 
gredUris. Adrian IV., 3ulJa 1154 in Rymer, Acta Public*. 



A NATIONAL PROTEST. 



than Uildebrand, 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 of 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 his lord paramount.* 

A national protest then boldly claimed the ancient 
liberties of the people. Forty-five barons, armed in com- 
plete mail, and mounted on their noble war-horses, sur- 
rounded 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 the) to the 
king, "is the charter which consecrates the liberties 
confirmed by Henry II., and which you also have sol- 
emnly sworn to observe." . . "Why do they not de- 
mand my crown also V 9 said the king in a furious pas- 
sion ; and then with an oathf 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 of June, 1215, 
the king signed the famous Magna Gharta at Runny- 
mede. The political Protestantism of the thirteenth 
century would have done but little, however, for the 
greatness of the nation, without the religious Protes- 
tantism of the sixteenth. 

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 

° Resignavit coronam suam in man us domini pap®. Mattb 
Park, 198 et 207. 

t Cum juramento furibundo. Ibid. 213. 



86 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the liberties which he had confirmed,* ascribed the con. 
duct of the barons to the instigation of Satan, and 
ordered them to make an 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 Eng- 
land. 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 claim- 
ed to govern the whole world. 

The priests of England supported the anathemas pro- 
nounced 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 Eng- 
land- -not a king, not even a kingling, but the disgrace 
of kings — a king without a kingdom — the fifth wheel of 
a wagon — the last of kings, and the disgrace of his peo- 
ple. 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.*)" 

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 V 1 

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 mercena 
ries carried desolation in their track ; they extorted 
money, made prisoners, burnt the barons* castles, laid 
waste their parks, and dishonored their wives and daugh 

• Sub intimatione anathematis prohibentes ne dictus rex earn 
observare praesumat. Matth. Paris, 224. 

f Arreptos baculos et stipites more furiosi nunc corrodere, mm* 
oorrosos confringcre. Ibid. 222. 



DEATH OF KING JOHN. 



87 



ters.* 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 mur- 
der and conflagration.f Such was the enthronization of 
Popery in England. At this sight the barons, overcone 
by emotion, denounced both the king and the pope 
" Alas, poor country I" they exclaimed. " Wretched 
England! . . And thou, 0 pope, a curse light upon 
thee!"} 

The curse was not long delayed. As the king was 
returning from some more than usually successful foray, 
and as the royal wagons were crossing the sands of the 
Wash, the tide rose and all sank in the abyss.§ 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.|| 

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, witli ceremonies and a multitude of pray- 
ers and chantings dazzled the eyes, charmed the ears, 
and captivated the senses ; but testified also to the ab- 
sence of every strong moral and Christian disposition, 
and the predominance of worldliuess in the church. At 
the same time the adoration of images and relics, saints, 
angels, and Mary the mother of God, the worships of 

• Uxores et filias suas ludibrio expositas. Matth. Paris, 231. 

t Discurrebant sicarii cajde humana eruentati, noctivagi, incea- 
Jiarii, strictis ensibus. Ibid. 

J Sic baroaes lacrymantes et lamentantes regem et papam male- 
dixerunt. Ibid. 234. 

§ Aperta eat in mediis fluctibus terra et voraginis abyssiw, qnfls 
absorbuerunt universa cum hominibus et equis. Ibid. 242. 

£ Novi ciceris potatione nimis repletus. Ibid. I21tf. 



88 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



latria, doulia, and hyperdoulia* the real Mediator trans* 
ported from the throne of mercy to the seat of ven- 
geance, 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 Reforma- 
tion may now be said to begin. 

England had been brought low by the Papacy: it 
rose up again by resisting Rome. Grostete, Bradwar 
dine, and Edward III. prepared the way for Wickliffo, 
and Wickliffe for the Reformation. 

° The Romish church distinguishes three kinds of worship* 
latria, that paid to God ; doulia, to saints ; and hyperdoulia, to the 
Virgin Mary. 



BEFORMING PBINCTPLE8. 



89 



CHAPTER VI. 

Reaction- -Grostete — Principles of reform — Contest with the pope— 
Sewal- -Progress of the nation — Opposition to the Papacy — Con- 
version of Bradwardine — Grace is supreme — Edward III. — Stat 
ntes of Provisors and Praemunire. 

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 m 
their original languages, and bowing to their sovereign 
authority. Robert Grostete — Great-head 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,* and was ordering 
the English bishops to find benefices for three hundred 
RomanSyf Grostete was declaring that " to follow a 
pope who rebels against the will of Christ, is to sepa- 
rate 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 un 
precedented schism."^ Thus did he predict the Refor 
mation. Disgusted at the avarice of the monks and 
^. iests. he visited Rome to demand a reform. " Broth- 
er," said Innocent IV. to him with some irritation, "is 

° Non puri hommis sed veri Dei vicem gerit in terris. Innocent 
HI Epr lib. 6, 1, 335. 

f Ut trecentis Romanis in primis beneficiis vacantibus provide- 
rent. Matth. Paris, ann. 1240. 

X Absit et quod . . . haec sedes et in ea praesidentes causa Bint 
schiematis apparentis. Ortinnus G rati us, ed. Brown, fol. 251. 



90 HISTOBY OF THE REFOKMATION. 



Mne eye evil because I am good V y The English bishop 
exclaimed with a sigh, "Oh money, money, how great 
is thy power, especially in this court of Rome 1" 

A year had scarcely elapsed before Innocent com- 
manded the bishop to give a canonry in Lincoln cathe- 
dral to his infant nephew. Grostete replied, " After the 
3in 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 there- 
fore I rebel."* 

Thus spoke a bishop to his pontiff : his obedience tc 
the word of God forbade him to obey the pope. This 
was the principle of the Reformation. "Who is this old 
d/iveller that in his dotage dares to judge of my con- 
duct?" exclaimed Innocent, whose wrath was appeased 
by the intervention of certain cardinals. Grostete 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 Scrip- 
ture, openly taught and obstinately defended thus 
asserting the authority of Scripture instead of the au- 
thority of the church. He died in peace, and the public 
voice proclaimed him "a searcher of the Scriptures, an 
adversary of the pope, and a despiser of the Romans."f 
Innocent, desiring to take vengeance on his bones, med- 
itated 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 

0 Obedienter non obedio sed contradico et rebello. Matth. 
Paris, ad ann. 1252. 

f Scripturarum sedulus perscrutator diversarum, ilomanorum 
malleus et contemptor. Matth. Paris, vol. 2, p. 876, fol. Lond. 
1640. Sixteen of his writings (Sermones et epistola?) will be found 
In Brown app. ad Fasdculum. 



PBOGRESS OF THE NATION. 



91 



threatening' look:* "Wretch, the Lord doth not permit 
thee to have any power over me. Woe be to thee ! w 
The vision disappeared, and the pope, uttering a cry as 
if he had been struck by some sharp weapon, lay sense- 
less 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 regchoed with 
his lamentable groans. 

Grostete 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."f 
"Moderate your tyranny," said the archbishop to the 
pontiff, "for the Lord said to Peter, Feed my sheep, and 
not shear them,Jlay them, or devour them?\ The pope 
smiled and let the archbishop 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. 

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 com- 
pelled 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, 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 vio 
tories 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 valoi 
of these proud islanders. The English people took their 

° Nocte apparuit ei episcopus vultu severo, intuitu austero, ao 
Toce terribili. Ibid. 883. 

t Quanto magis a papa maledicebatur, tanto plus a populo bene- 
dicebatur. Ibid, ad aim. 1257. 

I Pasce oves meas, nun tonde, non excoria, non eviscera, vel devO 
randu consume. Ibid, ad ann. 1258. 



92 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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, Eng- 
land 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 cen- 
tury, an Englishman having brought to London one of 
the pope's bulls — a bull of an entirely spiritual charac- 
ter, 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.* 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 ol 
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 in- 
debted for the development of the Protestant element in 
England. 

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 re- 
cover for the royal authority all its power, and for Eng- 
land 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 hia 
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 ol 
Ilia time, and occupied the first rank among astronomers, 
• Fuller's Church History, cent. 14, p. 90, fol. Lond. 1666. 



BBADWABDINE'S CONVERSION 93 



philosophers, and mathematicians * 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 run- 
neth, but of God that showeth mercy. His ungrateful 
heart, he tells us, at first rejected this humiliating doc- 
trine 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 everywhere 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, 0 
Lord," he exclaimed, "the number of those who strive 
with Pelagius against thy free grace cannot be count- 
ed.f They pretend not to receive grace freely, but to 
buy it. J The will of men, they say, should precede, and 
thine should follow : theirs is the mistress and thine the 
servant. § . . . Alas, nearly the whole world is walking 
in error in the steps of Pelagius. || Arise, 0 Lord, and 
judge thy cause." And the Lord did arise, but not until 



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

f Quot, Domine, hodie cum Pelagio pro libero arbitrio contra 
gratuitam gratiam tuam pugnant ? De causa Dei adversus Pelagi- 
nm, libri tres, Lond. 1618. 

J Nequaquam gratuita sed vendita. Ibid. 

§ Suam voluntatem prseire ut dominam, tuam subsequi ut antil* 
Am. Ibid. 

J| Totus paene mundus post Pelagium abut in errorem. IH& 



94 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATION. 

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. 

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 becom- 
ing 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 protect- 
ed against the invasion of foreigners ; and imprison- 
ment 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 con- 
firmed 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 Avig- 
non ; 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 a 
historian at this place ; " when once they have reached 
it, they halt, they retrograde, they fall."* 

The term seemed to be drawing nearer every day 
In the reign of Edward 111., between 1343 and 1353, 

° Habent iinperia suos terminos ; hue cum venerint, sistuat. 
jetrocedunt, ruunt. Fuller's Hist, cent 14, p. 116. 



STATUTE OP PBiEMTJNIRE. 95 

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 Eng- 
land, 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 1^-rms 
of the act. Such was the statute of Praemunire* 

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 praemunire 
gave him a fit of fever." One pope called it an " exe- 
crable statute," "a horrible crime."f Such are the terms 
applied by the pontiffs to all that thwarts their ambi- 
tion. 

Of the two wars carried on by Edward — the one 
against the king of France, and the other against Po- 
pery — 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 nis strug- 
gles with the Papacy, founded as they were on truth, 
have exerted even to our own days an indisputable in- 
fluence on the destinies of Great Britain. Yet the pray- 
ers and the conquests of Bradwardine, who proclaimed 
in that fallen age the doctrine of grace, produced effects 
still greate , not only for the salvation of many souls, 
but for the liberty, moral force, and greatness of Eng- 
land. 

0 The most natural meaning of the word prcemunire — given more 
particularly to the act of 1893 — seems to be that suggested by Ful 
ler. cent. 14. p. 148, to fence and fortify the regal power from for- 
eign assault. See the whole bill, Fuller's Hist. cent. 14, p. 145-1 47 

t Execrabile statutum . . . fcedum et turpe facinus. Martin V 
to the Duke of Bedford, Fuller, cent. 14, p. 143. 



96 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



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 Lancas- 
ter and Courtenay — Riot — Three briefs against Wickliffe — Wick- 
liffe 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 ap- 
peared 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 high- 
est functions, to exhibit in his person the past and fu- 
ture 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. 

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 endeavoring by pious frauds 
to monopolize the wealth of the country. " Every year," 
said they, " St. Francis descends from heaven to purga- 
tory, 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 monas- 
teries. 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.* The least of 

• When they have overmuch riches, both in great waste houses 
and precious clothes, in great feasts and many jewels and treasures. 



THE BEGGING FKIABS. 



9? 



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 un- 
educated persons in their place to preach fables and 
legends to amuse and plunder the people.* 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 voice, " If you do so we will 
leave the country, and return accompanied by a legion 
of glittering helmets."f 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."! 

The arrogance of Rome made the cup run over. 
Pope Urban V., heedless of the laurels won by the con- 
queror at Orecy 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 be- 
fore him at Rome. For thirty-three years the popes had 
never mentioned the tribute accorded by John to Inno- 
cent III., and which had always been paid very irregu- 
larly. 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. 

John Wickliffe, born in 1324, in a little village in 
Yorkshire, was one of the students who attended the 
lecturos of the pious Bradwardine at Merton college. 
He was in the flower of his age, and produced a great 
6ensation in the university. In 1348, a terrible pesti- 
lence, which is said to have carried off half the human 
race, appeared in England after successively devastate 

Wickliffe' a Tracts and Treatises, edited by the Wickliffe Society, p. 
'424. * Ibid., 240. f Come again with bright heads. Ibid. 
. t Wickliffe, The Last Age of the Church. 



98 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



ing Asia and the continent of Europe. This visitation 
of the Almighty sounded like the trumpet of the judg- 
ment-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 
ehow him the path he ought to follow.* He found it m 
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 bibli- 
cal 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 dur- 
ing 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 dis- 
putations. He accused the clergy of having banished 
the holy Scriptures, and required that the authority of 
the word of God should be reestablished in the church. 
Loud acclamations crowned these discussions, and the 
crowd of vulgar minds trembled with indignation when 
they heard these shouts of applause. 

Wickliffe was forty years old when the papal arro- 
gance 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. 

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 Christen- 

* Long debating and deliberating with himself, with many 
wcret sighs. Foxe, Acts and Monuments, 1, p. 486, ioL LoncL, 
L684. 



THE PAPAL TRIBUTE. 



99 



dom. The debates in the House of Lords were espe- 
cially 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 Y. will not accept the first of these titles. . . . 
Well and good ; but the English people will not ac- 
knowledge the second." " Why," said a third, " was 
this tribute originally granted? To pay the pope for 
absolving John His demand then is mere si- 

mony, a kind of clerical swindling, which the lords spir- 
itual 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."* 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. 

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." Ed- 
ward III. made Wickliffe one of his chaplains, and the 
Papacy has ceased from that hour to lay claim, in ex- 
plicit terms at least, to the sovereignty of England. 

When the pope gave up his temporal, he was desir- 
ous, at the very least, of keeping up his ecclesiastical 
pretensions, and to procure the repeal of the statutes of 

• 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 QtMte ; 
qtuun audivi in quodam concilia a dominis secularibus 



100 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



Praemunire 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 com- 
missioners in April, 1374. They came to an arrange- 
ment 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 ecclesiasti- 
cal presentations.* But the nation was not pleased 
with this compromise. " The clerks sent from Rome/' 
said the Commons, " are more dangerous for the king- 
dom 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. 

Wickliffe, after his return to England, was presented 
to the rectory of Lutterworth, and from that time a prac- 
tical 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 ;f 
and far from having the right to reprimand the whole 
world, he may be lawfully reproved by his inferiors, and 
even by laymen." 

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 re- 
cently been appointed to the see of London. In parlia- 
ment 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 peo- 
ple, both high and low, charged him with heresy, and 

• Rymer, 7, p. 33, 83-88. 

f The proud worldly priest of Rome, and the most cursed of 
clippers and purse-kervers. Lewis, History of Wickliffe, p. 81 
Oxford, 1820. 



I 



WICKLIFFE BEFORE THE CONVOCATION. 101 



summoned him to appear before the convocation assem- 
bled in St. Paul's cathedral. 

On the 19th of February, 1317, an immense crowd, 
heated with fanaticism, thronged the approaches to the 
church and filled its aisles, while the citizens favorable 
to the reform remained concealed in their houses 
Wickliffe moved forward, preceded by Lord Percy, mar- 
shal of England, and supported by the duke of Lancas- 
ter, who defended him from purely political motives. 
He was followed by four bachelors of divinity, his coun- 
sel, 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 con- 
course of people, fear nothing ; we are here to defend 
you."* 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-mar- 
shal, Wickliffe and Lancaster could not advance. The 
people swayed to and fro, hands were raised in violence, 
and loud hootings reechoed through the building. At 
length Percy made an opening in the dense multitude, 
and Wickliffe passed on. 

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 1 had known, my lord, that you claimed to be mas- 
ter in this church, I would have taken measures tc pre- 
vent your entrance." Lancaster coldly rejoined, "He 
shall keep such mastery here, though you say nay." 
Percy now turned to Wickliffe, who had remained stand- 
ing, and said, "Sit down and rest yourself." At this 
Courtenay gave way to his anger, and exclaimed in a 
• Foxe, Acts. 1, p. 487 fol. Lond., 1684. 



102 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



loud tone, 4t He must not sit down ; criminals stand bo 
fore their judges." Lancaster, indignant that a learned 
doctor of England should be refused a favor 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 prel- 
acy in England."* " 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 them- 
selves." To this the bishop nobly replied, "My confi- 
dence 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 hypoc- 
risy only in these words, turned to one of his attend- 
ants, 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 con- 
fess that the prelate spoke with greater dignity than 
the prince. Lancaster had hardly uttered these impru- 
dent words before the bishop's partisans fell upon him 
and Percy, and even upon Wickliffe, who alone had re- 
mained calm.f 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. 

On the following day the earl-marshal having called 
upon parliament to apprehend the disturbers of the pub- 
lic peace, the clerical party, uniting with the enemies of 
Lancaster, filled the streets with their clamor; 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, 

• Fuller, Church Hist., cent. 14, p. 135. 
f Fill furiously on the lords. Ibid., 186. 



BIOT-— WICKLIFFE AT LAMBETH. 103 



the rioters, imagining that he was concealed in Lancas- 
ter's palace, rushed to the Savoy, at that time the moat 
magnificent building in the kingdom. They killed a 
priest who endeavored 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 
favor 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 nevef 
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.* 

Rome could not close her ears. WicklifiVs 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 Janter- 
bury, 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 pileut. 

On the appointed day, Wickliffe, unaccompanied by 
either Lancaster or Percy, proceeded to the archiepisco- 
pal chapel at Lambeth. " Men expected he should be 
devoured," says a historian, " being brought into the 
lion's den."f But the burgesses had taken the prince's 

• Vaughan's Wickliffe, Appendix, vol. 1, p. 434. 
f Fuller's Church Hist., cent. 14, p. 137. 



104 HISTORY Of THE REFORMATION. 



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." 

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-cath- 
olic historian, "like a reed before the wind."* Wick- 
liffe 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."f 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 pleas- 
ure?" 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 reestablishing authority in the 
church on a truly divine foundation. 

A great change was now taking place in the re- 
former. 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 

• Walsingham, Hist. .Angliae Major, p. 203. 

f Propono et volo esse ex integro Christiaaus, et quamdiu man- 
sent in me halitus, pronteus verbo et opere legem Christi. Vaa< 
khan's Wickliffe,!, p. 428. 



MISSION Of THE POOR PRIESTS. 105 

itinerant evangelization to convert souls to Jesus Christ. 
Turning to the most pious of his disciples, he said to 
them, 11 Go and preach ; it is the sublimest work ; but 
imitate not the priests whom we see after the sermon sit* 
ting in the alehouses, 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 succor them according to your ability." Such 
was the new practical theology which Wickliffe inaugu- 
rated — it was that of Christ himself. 

The " poor priests," as they were called, set off bare- 
foot, a staff in their hands, clothed in a coarse robe, liv- 
ing on alms, and satisfied with the plainest food. They 
stopped in the fields near some village, in the church- 
yards, in the market-places of the towns, and sometimes 
in the churches even.* The people, among whom they 
were favorites, 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 cross- 
way, preaching to an attentive crowd. Missions of this 
kind have constantly revived in England at the great 
epochs of the church. 

The "poor priests" were not content with mere po- 
lemics : they preached the great mystery of godliness. 
" An angel could have made no propitiation for man," 
one day exclaimed their master Wickliffe ; " for the na- 
ture 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."f 

The clergy became alarmed, and a law was passed 
commanding every king's officer to commit the preach- 
ers and their followers to prison. J In consequence of 

• A private statute made by the clergy. Foxe, Acts, 1, p. 603 
f Exposition of the Decalogue. J Foxe, Acts, I, p. 60S 



106 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 ol 
peace. The poor priests returned to their master: 
Wickliffe comforted them, advised with them, and then 
they departed once more. Every day this evangeliza- 
tion reached some new spot, and the light was thus pen- 
etrating into every quarter of England, when the re- 
former was suddenly stopped in his work. 

Wickliffe was at Oxford in the year 1319, busied in 
the discharge of his duties as professor of divinity, when 
he fell dangerously ill. His was not a strong consti- 
tution ; 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 them- 
selves with an easy victory. But the nearer the re- 
former 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 ser- 
vant 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, 



WICKLIFEE AND THE EEGENTS, 107 



a,nd 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 re* 
covered to put the finishing touch to the most impor- 
tant of his works against the monks and against the 
pope.* 



• Petrie's Church History, 1, p. 604 



108 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Bible — Wickliffe's translation — Effects of its publication — Op- 
position of the clergy — WickTiffe's fourth phasis — Transul*taii" 
tiation — 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 charac- 
ter — His teaching — His ecclesiastical views — A prophecy. 

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 mys- 
terious 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 para- 
phrased 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 ot 
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 pop- 
ulation, the attention the English were beginning to de- 
vote to their own language, the development which the 
system of representative government had received, the 
awakening of the human mind — all these circumstances 
favored the reformer's design. 



WIOKLIFFE TRANSLATES THE BIBLE. 109 



Wickliffe was ignorant indeed of Greek and Hebrew ; 
but was it nothing to shake off the dust which for ages 
bad covered the Latin Bible, and to translate it into 
English ? He was a good Latin scholar, of sound un- 
derstanding, and great penetration ; but above all, he 
loved the Bible, he understood it, and desired to com 
municate 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 na- 
tions on the continent, took her station in the foremost 
rank in the great work of disseminating the Scriptures. 

As soon as the translation was finished, the labor of 
the copyists began, and the Bible was erelong widely 
circulated, either wholly or in portions. The reception 
of the work surpassed WicklifiVs 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 com- 
parison 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 learned Eng- 
lish, began to read the gospels diligently. She did more 
than this ; she made them known to Arundel, archbish- 
op of York and chancellor, and afterwards a persecutor, 
but who now, struck at the sight of a foreign lady, ol 
a queen, humbly devoting her leisure to the study oi 
euch virtuous books* commenced reading thein himself, 
and rebuked tie prelates who neglected this holy pur- 
Suit "You could not meet two persons on the high- 
• Foxe, AeU, 1, p. 578. 



110 HISTORY 0£ THE REFORMATION. 



way," says a contemporary writer, "but one of them was 
Wickliffe's disciple." 

Yet all in England did not equally rejoice : the low- 
er 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 everywhere 
cast out and trodden under foot of swine."* New con- 
tests 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."f " 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 clamors did not alarm Wickliffe. " Many nationb 
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 defend- 
ers. 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 relig- 
ion in our own tongue ?"J 

Having given his fellow-countrymen the Bible, Wick- 
liffe 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 orig- 

° Evangelica margarita spargitur et a porcis conculcator. 
Knyghton, De eventibus Anglias, p. 264. 

| It is heresy to speak of the holy Scripture in English Wick* 
liffe's Wicket, p. 4. Oxford, 1612, quarto. 

X Weber, Akatholische Kirchen, 1, p. 81. 



FOURTH PHASE OF WICKLIFFE. H] 



fnates the science of theology. This is a natural move- 
ment. If the child, who at first possesses sensations and 
affections only, feels the want, as he grows up, of reflec- 
tion 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 doc- 
trine ; and he attached himself in a more especial man- 
ner to those ecclesiastical dogmas which were more 
closely connected with the presumptuous hierarchy and 
the simoniacal gains of Rome, such as transubstantia- 
tion. 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 Lan- 
franc, the opponent of Berengarius, had taught England 
that at the word of a priest God quitted heaven and de- 
scended 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 sac- 
ramental words it contains in every part the real body 
and blood of Christ." He did not stop here. " The con* 
secrated wafer which we see on the altar," said he, " is 
not Christ, nor any part of him, but his efficient sign."* 
He oscillated between those 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 transubstantia- 
tion, because it nullified the spiritual and living presence 
of the Lord. 

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, 
aud pronounced against him suspension from all teach- 
* Kfficax ejus signum, Conclusio l ma - Vaughan, 2, p. 436, App 



112 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



ing, 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 eccle- 
siastical opposition which might aid the political power f 
and for that purpose he had tried to enlist the reformer's 
fcalents and courage ; but he feared a dogmatic opposi- 
tion 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 profes- 
sor 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 pre- 
vail 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, 0 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 1 . . . As you cannot make the works which he 
made, how shall ye make Him who made the works ?* 
Woe to the adulterous generation that believeth the tes- 
timony of Innocent rather than of the gospel."f Wick* 
liflfe 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. 

• Wycleffs Wyckett, Tracts, pp. 276, 279. 
f Vae generationi adulters quae plus credit testiinonio Innocent!! 
qwm eensui Evangelii Confetssio, Vaughau, 2, 453, App. 



CONDEMNED PEOPOSITIONS. 



113 



The time was not favorable for such an appeal. A 
fatal circumstance increased Wickliffe's danger. Wat 
Tyler and a dissolute priest named Ball, taking advan- 
tage 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 in 
surgents, not by expositions of the gospel, like Wick- 
liffe'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 ? 

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 con- 
voking a synod to pronounce on this matter of Wick- 
liffe's. They met in the middle of May, about two 
o'clock in the afternoon, and were proceeding to pro- 
nounce 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 ad- 
journment 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 vapors which catch 
fire in the bosom of the earth, and give rise to these 
phenomena which alarm you, lose 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 WicklinVs, but ascribing to him 
certain errors of which he was quite innocent. The fol 
lowing most excited the anger of the priests: " God 
must obey the devil.* After Urban VI. we must receive 
no one as pope, but live according to the manner of the 
Chreeks." The ten propositions were condemned as he* 

° Quod Deus debet obedire diabolo. Mansi, 26, p. 695. Wicklifle 
denied having written or spoken the sentiment here ascribed to him, 

8 



114 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



retical, 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 ap- 
peal 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."* Th< 
king gave authority to "confine in the prisons of tLe 
state any who should maintain the condemned propo- 
sitions." 

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 harrassed by persecution, he found himself 
alone. But boldly he uplifted his hoary head, and ex- 
claimed, " The doctrine of the gospel shall never perish , 
and if the earth once quaked, it was because they con- 
demned Jesus Christ." 

He did not stop here. In proportion as his physical 
strength decreased, his moral strength increased. In- 
stead 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 lowei 
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 & 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 neigb- 
• From lollen, to sing ; as beggardt (beggars) from beggo*. 



WICKLIFFE BEFORE THE PRIMATE. 115 



bors dying of hunger."* The House of Commons, recol« 
lecting that they had not given their consent to the 
persecuting statute drawn up by the clergy and approv- 
ed by the king and the lords, demanded its repeal. Was 
the Reformation about to begin by the will of the peo- 
ple? 

Courtenay, indignant at this intervention of the Com- 
mons, and ever stimulated by a zeal for his church, which 
would have been better directed towards the word ot 
God, visited Oxford in November, 1382, arid having 
gathered round him a number of bishops, doctors, priests, 
students, and laymen, summoued Wickliffe before him. 
Forty years ago the reformer had come up to the uni- 
versity : Oxford had become his home .... and now it 
was turning against him. Weakened by labors, 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 out- 
ward sign indicated their emotion. The solemn silence 
of a court of justice had succeeded the shouts of enthu- 
siastic youths. Yet Wickliffe did not despair : he rais- 
ed 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."f 
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 withdre w to 
his cure at Lutterworth. 

He had not yet reached the harbor. He was living 
peacefully among his books and his parishioners, and the 

• A complaint of John Wycleff. Tracts and Treatises edited by 
the Wickliffe Society, p. 268. 

f Finaliter Veritas \incent eot. Vaughan, App. 2, p. 453, 



116 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 in- 
firmities convinced him that he could not obey this sum- 
mons. But if Wickliffe refused to hear Urban, Urban 
could not choose but hear Wickliffe. The church was a 
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. Wick- 
liffe shall tell us who is the true head of tho church 
universal. And while the two popes were excommuni- 
cating 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.* 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 honors, 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 labor according to my de- 
sire 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.""f 

° This is the reading of the Bodleian manuscript- and be [by] 
this it passes all other laws." In Foxe, Wickliffe appears to as- 
cribe to Christ himself this superiority over all Scripture— a dis- 
tinction hardly in the mind of the reformer or of his age. 

f An Epistle of J. Wickliffe to Pope Urban VI. Foxe, Acts, X, 
p. 507, fol. Lond. 1684; also Lewis, (Wickliffe,) p. 333, App. 



THE TEIALOGUE. 



in 



Urban, who at that moment chanced to be very 
bnsied in his contest with Clement, did not think it pru* 
dent 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 Ale* 
theia, 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, (trio- 
hgue,) 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 colors. 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 hun- 
dred 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."* 

These words were the last flicker of the torch. Wick- 
lifFe 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 ex- 
pected. "Why do you talk of seeking the crown of mar- 
tyrdom 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."f 

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 ? Wick- 

• Tdeo si essent centum papae, et omnes fratres essent versi in 
cardinales, non deberet concedi sententiae suae in materia fidui, nisi 
&e quanto se fundaverint in Scriptura. Trialogus, Jib. 4, cap. 7« 

f Vaughan's Life of Wickliffe, 2, p. 215, 267. 



118 EIBTOKY OF THE REFORMATION. 



liffe therefore continued tranquilly to preach Jesus 
Christ; and on the 29th of 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 
*fter lingering forty-eight hours, resigned his soul to 
God on the last day of the year. 

Thus was removed from the church one of the bold 
est witnesses to the truth. The seriousness of his lan* 
guage, the holiness of his life, and the energy of his faith 
bad intimidated the popedom. Travellers relate that if 
a lion is met in a desert, it is sufficient to look steadily 
at him, and the beast turns away roaring from th*; 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 eat- 
ing the flesh and drinking the blood which gave 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 honor 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 Cal- 
vin are the fathers of the Reformation, Wickliffe is its 
grandfather. 

Wickliffe, like most great men, possessed qualities 
which are not generally found together. While hir» un- 
derstanding was eminently speculative — his treatise on 
he Reality of Universal Ideas* made a sensation in phi- 
losophy — he possessed that practical and active mind 
#hich characterizes the Anglo-Saxon race. As a divine, 
he was at once scriptural and spiritual, soundly ortho- 
dox, and possessed of an inward and lively faith. With 
a boldness that impelled him to rush into the midst of 
0 De universalibua realibus 



WICKLIFFE'S ECCLESIASTICAL VIEWS. 119 



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. 

If the man is admirable, his teaching is no less so. 
Scripture, which is the rule of truth, should be, accord- 
ing to his views, the rule of reformation, and we must 
reject every doctrine and every precept which does not 
rest on that foundation.* 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.f 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. J Faith is a 
gift of God ; it puts aside all merit, and should banish 
all fear from the mind.§ The one thing needful in the 
Christian life and in the Lord's supper is not a vain for- 
malism and superstitious rites, but communion with 
Christ according to the power of the spiritual life.|| 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. 1 ! The sublimest calling which 
nan can attain on earth is that of preaching the word 

° Auctoritas Scripturae sacrse, quae est lex Christi, infinitum ex- 
oedit quam libet scripturam aliam. Dialog. [Trialogus] lib. 3, cap. 
30 ; see in particular cap. 31. 

j Ibid, de praedestinatione, de peccato, de gratia, etc. 

% Ibid. lib. 3, cap. 30. 

§ Fideni a Deo infusam sine aliqua trepidatione fidei contraria. 
Ibid. lib. 3, cap 2. 

|| Secundum rationem spiritualis et virtualis existentiae. Ibid 
Ub. 4, cap. 8. 

^1 Fuit idem presbyter atque episcopus. Ibid. lib. 4, cap 15 



120 HlSTOfc? OF THE BEFOEMATION. 



of God. The true church is the assembly of the right- 
eous 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 
recognize as our head "a devil of hell?"* Such were 
the essential points of Wickliffe's doctrine. It was the 
ucho of the doctrine of the apostles — the prelude to that 
of the reformers. 

In many respects Wickliffe is the Luther of England ; 
hut the times of revival had not yet come, and the Eng- 
lish reformer could not gain such striking victories over 
Rome as the German reformer. While Luther was sur- 
rounded by an ever-increasing number of scholars and 
princes who confessed the same faith as himself, Wick- 
liffe shone almost alone in the firmament of the church. 
The boldness with which he substituted a living spirit- 
uality 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 ;f but God protected him, and he re- 
mained calm amid 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 re- 
generation of the church. " If the friars, whom God con- 
descends to teach, shall be converted to the primitive 
religion of Christ," said he, " we shall see them abandon- 
ing 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."! 

Thu*» did Wickliffe's piercing glance discover, at the 

o Vaughan's Life of Wickliffe, 2, p. 307. The Christian public 
Is much indebted to Dr. Vaughan for his biography of this reformer. 

t Multitudo fratrum mortem tuam multipliciter machinantur. 
Dialog, lib. 4, cap. 4. 

{ Aliqui fratres quos Deus docere dignatur . . . relicta sua per- 
fidia . . . redibunt libere ad religionem Christi primaevam, et tunc 
sedincabunt ecclesiam, sicut Paulus. Ibid. lib. 4, cap. 80. 



A PROPHECY. 



121 



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 bearr.a 
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 ;* and its piercing light, 
increasing in brightness, will pour over all the world, 
at the hour of the church's renovation, floods of know- 
ledge and of life. 



• John Huss in Bohemia. 



123 HISTOKY OF THE REFOBMATION 



CHAPTER IX 

The Wickliffites — Call for reform — Richard II. — The first martyr-- 
Lord Cobham — Appears before Henry V. — Before the archbishoj 
— His confession and death — The Lollards. 

Wickliffe's death manifested the power of his teach* 
hig. The master being removed, the 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 Chji;jtian poverty, 
and to the degenerate asceticism of the mendicant or- 
ders, 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 ;* 
the nobility took down the images from their baronial 
chapels ;f 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.J 

This augmented the courage of WicklinVs 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* 
ana the abuses of which they were the defenders ; and 
in 1395 the friends of the gospel petitioned Parliament 

• Assistere solent gladio et pelta stipati ad eorum defensionem 
Knyghton, lib. 5, p. 2G60. 

f Milites cum ducibus et comitibus erant praecipue eis adhieren 
tes. Ibid. 

X Quasi germinantes multiplicati sunt nimis et impleverunt ubi 
que orbem regni. Ibid. The** " Oonduwmu" are reprinted bj 
Lewis, (Wickliffe,) p. 331. 



CALL FOR REFORM. 



123 



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."* And then, from not clearly under 
standing the principle of the separation of the function* 
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." Em 
boldened 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. 

As soon as Arundel, archbishop of York, and Bray- 
brooke, 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 his childhood and youth, 
had been committed in succession to the charge of sev- 
eral guardians, and like children, says a historian, whose 
nurses have been often changed, he thrived none the 
better for it. He did good or evil, according to the in- 
fluence of those around him, and had no decided inclina- 
tions 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 Wickliffe petition into consideration ; and hav- 
ing summoned before him the most distinguished of its 
aupporters, such as Story, Clifford, Latimer, and Monta- 
cute, he threatened them with death if they continued to 
defend their abominable opinions. Thus was the work 
of the reformer about to be destroyed. 

• Rex ct episcopiw in una persona, etc. Knyghton, lib 6, p 
2660. 



124 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

But Richard had hardly withdrawn his hand from the 
gospel, when God, says the annalist, withdrew his hand 
from him.* His cousin Henry of Hereford, son of the 
famous duke of Lancaster, and who had been banished 
from England, suddenly sailed from the Continent, land* 
ed in Yorkshire, gathered all the malcontents around 
him, and was acknowledged king. The unhappy Rich- 
ard, after being formally deposed, was confined in Pon- 
tefract castle, where he soon terminated his earthly 
career. 

The son of WicklifiVs old defender was now king : 
a reform of the church seemed imminent; but the pri- 
mate 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, f Practice fol- 
lowed close upon the theory. A pious priest named 
William Sawtre had presumed to say, "Instead of ador- 
ing the cross on which Christ suffered, I adore Christ 
who suffered on it."J 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 Prot- 
estantism. 

Encouraged by this act of faith — this auto da fir— 

• Foxe, Acts, 1, p. 584, fol. Lond., 1684. 
f Ibid., p. 686. This is the statute known as 2 Henry IV., a 
16, the first actual law in England against heresy. 
% Ibid., p. 689. 



PERSECUTION— LORD COB HAM. 125 



the clergy drew up the articles known as the " Consti- 
tutions of Arundel," which forbade the reading of the 
Bible, and styled the pope, " not a mere man, but a true 
God."* The Lollards' tower in the archiepiscopal pal- 
ace 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 mens, wrote one of them.f 

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 noble- 
men 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 Cow- 
ling castle, in the midst of the fertile pastures watered 
by the Med way, 

The fair Medwaya that with wanton pride 
Forms silver mazes with her crooked tide .J 

In the beginning of the fifteenth century it was inhab- 
ited by Sir John Old castle, Lord Cobham, a man in high 
favor with the king. The "poor priests" thronged to 
Cowling in quest of WicklifiVs writings, of which Cob- 
ham 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 inter- 
rupt them, he threatened them with the sword.§ "I 
would sooner risk my life," said he, " than submit to 
such unjust decrees as dishonor the everlasting Testa- 
ment." The king would not permit the clergy to lay 
hands on his favorite. 

But Henry V. having succeeded his father in 1413, 

• Not of pure man, but of true God, here in earth. Foxe, Acts 
1, p. 596. 

t 44 Jesus is my love." These words are still to be read in the 
tower. J Blackmore. 

§ Eorum prasdicationibus nefariis interfuit, et contradictores, si 
quos repererat, minis et terroribus et gladii secularis potentia com' 
pescuit. Eymer, Fcedera, torn. 4, pars. 2, p. 60, 



128 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

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 WicklifiVs doctrine, and expe- 
rienced in his own person the might of the divine worA 
*' As touching the pope and his spirituality," he said to 
the king, " I owe them neither suit nor service, foras 
much as I know him by the Scriptures to be the great 
antichrist."* 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 com- 
monly settled by the sword : " I offer in defence of my 
faith to fight for life or death with any man living, Chris- 
tian or pagan, always excepting your majesty."f Cob- 
ham was led to the Tower. 

On the 23d of 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 I" 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 wap 
to have its martyr. 

On Monday, 25th of 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 oi 
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, 0 God, and acknowledge 
* Foxe, Acts, vol. 1, p. 636, fpi t IMd., p. 687. 



LORD COBHAM'S DEATH. 121 

tbat in my frail youth I seriously offended thee by my 
pride, auger, intemperance, and impurity : for these of- 
fences I implore thy mercy." Then standing up, his race 
still wet with tears, he said, " I ask not your absolu- 
tion ; it is God's only that I need."* The clergy did not 
despair, however, of reducing this high-spirited gentle- 
man : they knew that spiritual strength is not always 
conjoined with bodily vigor, 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 endeavors to con- 
vince you, but all to no effect. The day passeth away : 
your 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. 

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 St. Giles' 
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 oi 
the word of God. The London prisons were filled with 
WicklifBtes, and it was decreed that they should bo 
hung on the king's account, and burnt for God's.f 

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 

° Quod nullam absolutionem in hac parte peteret a nobis, sed a 
solo Deo. Rymer, Fcedera, p. 51. 

t Incendio propter Deum, suspendio propter regem. Thorn 
W&Ldends in proemio. Raynald, ann. 1414, No. 16. 



128 HISTOBY Of THE REFORMATION. 

was proceeding noiselessly among the elect of God. Oi 
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 six- 
teenth 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 condemna- 
tion it pronounces against the errors of Rome, and de- 
sirous 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 com- 
pelled to hold at the church-door- — all these things be- 
trayed the pride of the pnests, and filled the most gen- 
erous minds with doubts and vague desires. By a bap- 
tism of suffering, God v is then preparing the way to a 
glorious reformation. 



LEARNING AT FLOKENCE, 



129 



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 VIH. — Enthusiasm of the learned 
— Erasmus recalled to England — Cromwell before the pope — 
Catherine proposed to Henry — Their marriage and court — Tour- 
naments — Henry's danger. 

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 human- 
ism — the study of the classics — were the two laborato- 
ries 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. 

About the end of the fifteenth century, several young 
Englishmen chanced to be at Florence, attracted thither 
Dy 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 eccle- 
siastic, afterwards distinguished at Canterbury by his 
zeal in collecting valuable manuscripts ; his fellow-coun- 
trymen, Grocyn, Lilly, and Latimer "more bashful than 



130 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



a maiden;"* and above all, Linacre, whom Erasmns 
ranked before all the scholars of Italy, used to meet in 
the delicious villa of the Medici with Politian, Chalcon- 
dyles, and other men of learning ; and there, in the calm 
evenings of summer, under that glorious Tuscan sky, 
they dreamed romantic visions of the Platonic philoso- 
phy. 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. 

While learning was reviving in England, a new dy- 
nasty 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 oi 
Germany, Switzerland, France, and Scotland were dis* 
tinguished, did not exist so generally in those of Eng- 
land ; 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 exer- 
cise 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 

• Pudorem plus quam virgineum. Erasm. Ep., 1, p. 52& 



BBASMUS IN ENGLAND. 



131 



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 m her 
family. Arthur and Henry, the king's eldest sons, trem- 
bled 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 impoitant 
circumstance gave a new impulse to one of them. 

Among the countess' friends was Montjoy, who had 
known Erasmus at Paris, and heard his cutting sarcasms 
upon the schoolmen and friars. He invited the illustri- 
ous Dutchman to England, and Erasmus, who was fear- 
ful of catching the plague, gladly accepted the invita- 
tion, and set out for what he believed to be the kingdom 
of darkness. But he had not been long in England be- 
fore 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-colored, 
with blue eyes, coarse hands, and the right shoulder 
somewhat higher than the other. His features indicated 
affability and gayety, and pleasant jests were continu- 
ally 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 Eras- 
mus 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 learned the stranger's name, quickly replied, Aut tu 
es Erasmus aut diabolus — You are either the devil or 
Erasmus * More flung himself into the arms of Eras- 
mus, 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 



° life of More by his great-grandson, 1828, p. 98. 



132 EISTOBY OF THE BEFOKMATION 



tinge of ill-nature in his jests.* 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 igno- 
rant of that internal discipline of the Holy Ghost which 
is the only true discipline, he had recourse to the scourg 
on every Friday. Thomas More is the ideal of the Ca- 
tholicism of this period. He had, like the Romish sys- 
tem, two poles — worldliness and asceticism ; which, al- 
though contrary, often meet together. In fact, asceti- 
cism 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 sai rifieed 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 orrUr to preserve that self which a real regen- 
eration alone can sacrifice. 

From London Erasmus went to Oxford, where he 
met with John Col^t, a friend of More's, but older, and 
of very dissimilar character. Colet, the scion of an an- 
cient family, was a veiy portly man, of imposing aspect, 
great fortune, and elegance of manners to which Eras- 
mus 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 ad- 
mirer of the colleges of Paris with their sour wine and 
stale eggs, was glad to take a seat.f 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 

° Cum mulieribus fere atque etiam cum uxore nonnisi lusus jo 
•osque tractat. Erasm. Ep. 1, p. 636. 

f Quantum ibi devorabatur ovorum putrium, quantum villi pu 
tris hauriebatur. Erasm. Colloq., p. 564. 



ERASMUS AND PRINCE HENRY, 133 

Lord Montjoy from Oxford. "With such men I could 
willingly live in the farthest coasts of Scythia."* 

But if Erasmus on the banks of the Thames found a 
Maecenas in Lord Montjoy, a Labeo and perhaps a Vir- 
gil in More, he nowhere found an Augustus. On**, 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 ex- 
piate his gayety 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 pleas- 
ing 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 extraordinar}' charm 
for Erasm us. f That boy was Henry duke of York, the 
king's second son, born on the 28th of 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 Hen- 
ry, which in all probability exercised a certain influence 
over the destinies of England. The scholar of Rotter- 
dam was delighted to see the prince excel in all the 
manly spoils 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 

• Dici non potest quam mihi dulcescat Anglia tua .... vel in 
extrema Scythia vivere non recusem. Erasm. Ep. 1, p. 311. 
f Erasm. Ep. ad Botzhem Jortin. Appendix, p 108. 



134 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



instruments. The king took care that he should reeefre 
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 glit- 
ter 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 bv the attentions of the 
young Henry, attracted by his winning grace, charmed 
by his wit, Erasmus on his return to the Continent every- 
where proclaimed that England at last had found its 
Octavius. 

As for Henry VIL, he thought of every thing 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 Jo- 
anna 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 un- 
happy prince should be put to death Nor did this alone 
satisfy the king of Spain. Henry VIL, 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 scaf- 
fold ; the Castilian chancellor verified and registered the 
murder, and on the 14th of November the marriage was 
solemnized at St. Paul's. At midnight the prince and 



DEATH OF PKINCE ARTHUR. 135 



princess were conducted with great pomp to the bridal- 
chamber.* 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. 

In the early part of 1502, Prince Arthur fell ill, and 
on the 2d of April he died. The necessary time was 
taken to be sure that Catherine had no hope of becom- 
ing 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 Cathe- 
rine'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. 20:21; and in the gospel, John 
Baptist says to Herod, * It is not lawful for thee to have 
thy brother's wife.'" Mark 6 : 18. Fox, bishop of Win- 
chester, suggested that a dispensation might be pro- 
cured from the pope, and in December, 1503, Julius II, 
granted a bull declaring that for the sake of preserving 
anion between the Catholic princes he authorized Cathe» 
rine's marriage with the brother of her first husband, 
accederde for nan copuli carnali. These four words, it is 
Baid, were inserted in the bull at the express desire of 

° Principes summa nocte ad thalamum solemni ritu deduct! 
sunt. Sanderus, de schismate AngL, p. 2. 



136 HISTOBt OF THE KEFOBMATION. 



the princess. All these details will be of importance In 
the course of our history. The two parties were be- 
trothed, 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.* 
The nation murmured, and demanded whether it was in 
the pope's power to permit what God had forbidden.f 
The young prince, being informed of his father's scru- 
ples and of the people's discontent, declared, just before 
attaining his majority, June 27th, 1505, in the presence 
of the bishop of Winchester and several royal counsel- 
lors, that he protested against the engagement entered 
into during his minority, and that he would never make 
Catherine his wife. 

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."J 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 order- 
ing 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 

• Morysin's Apomaxis. 

■J Herbert, Life of Henry VIII. , p. 18. 

% Leland's Collectanea, vol. 4, p. 300. 



ENTHUSIASM Of THfi LEARNED, ISt 



In tLe 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 learn- 
ed 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 permit- 
ting 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 de- 
sire for yourself." " How can I do otherwise ?" he replied 
with earnestness ; " without them we hardly exist." 
Montjoy immediately communicated this to Erasmus. 

Erasmus, Erasmus 1 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 do n'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.* Immediately after the coronation 
Montjoy wrote to Erasmus, " Our Henry Octavus, or 
rather, Octavius, is on the throne. Come and behold the 
new star.f The heavens smile, the earth leaps for joy 

0 Scripsit ad me suapte manu litteras amantissimas. Erasm. 
vita ad Ep. 

f Ut hoc novum sidus aspicias. Ibid., p. 277: an expression o 1 
Virgil, speaking of the deified Augustus. 



138 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and all is flowing with milk, nectar, and honey.* Ava- 
rice has fled away, liberality has descended, scattering 
on every side with gracious hand her bounteous lar- 
gesses. Our king desires not gold or precious stones, 
but virtue, glory, and immortality." 

In such glowing terms was the young king described 
by 3 man who had seen him closely. Erasmus could 
resist no longer : he bade the pope farewell, and has- 
tened 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. 

Julius II., who had permitted Erasmus to exchange 
the white frock of the monks for the black dress of the 
eeculars,f 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 Eng- 
lish sent him a dish to his taste in exchange for the 
scholar. Some time 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.;); " It is some Eng- 
glishmen," 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 his- 
toric 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 

• Ridet aether, exultat terra, omnia lactis, omnia mellis, omnia 
nectaris sunt plena. Erasm. vita ad Ep., p. 277. 

f Vestem albam commutavit in nigram. Epp. ad Servat. 

X The pope suddenly marvelling at the strangeness of the song 
Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 864, ed. Lond., 183S 



CROMWELL AND THE POPE. 139 



this, two fellow-countrymen from Boston came to him in 
tbeir 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 neces- 
sary for the repair of our harbor. But we do not kne w 
how to appear before him." Cromwell, prompt to under* 
take every thing, 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. 

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 confec- 
tionary, 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. 

The court of the pontiff was not the only one in Eu- 
rope devoted to gayety. Hunting-parties were as com- 
mon in London as at Rome. The young king and his 
companions were at that time absorbed in balls, ban- 
quets, 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 ;* he 
was pleased with her love for literature, and even felt 

• Admirabatur quidem uxoris sanctitatem. Sanders, p. & 



140 fitStOB* Of Tm BEFOBMATION. 



some inclination towards her.* His advisers represents 
ed 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 dis- 

pensation : will you be more scrupulous than he is ?"f 
The archbishop of Canterbury opposed in vain : Henry 
gave way, and on the 11th of June, about seven weeks 
after his father's death, the nuptials were privately cel- 
ebrated. On the 23d 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. 

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 admir- 
ing, amused themselves like children with the splendor 
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 beau- 
ty, and the husband of almost as many wives as Louis 
had adulterous mistresses, he made the court of Eng. 
land 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 eigh- 
teen — the gayety of his disposition, the grace he dis- 
played in all bodily exercises, the tales of chivalry ir 
which he delighted, and which even the clergy recom 
mended to their high-born hearers, the flattery of his 

• Ut amor plus apud regem posset. Morysin, Apom., p. 14. 
t Herbert's Henry VIII., p. 7. Fuller's Church Hist., book 5, 
p. 166. Erasm. Epp. ad Amerb., p. 19. 



COURT AMUSEMENTS. 



141 



courtiers* — all these combined to set his young imagi- 
nation 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.f " His brow was made to wear 
the crown, and his majestic port the kingly mantle," 
adds Noryson.J 

Henry resolved to realize without deiay the chival 
rous combats and fabulous splendors 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 
armor, and wearing a plume that fell gracefully down to 
the saddle of his vigorous courser ; " like an untamed 
bull," says a historian, " which breaks away from its 
yoke and rushes into the arena." On one occasion, at 
the celebration of the queers churching, Catherine with 
her ladies were 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 be- 
fore 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 tournay. 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 Compos- 
tella. These also threw off their disguise, and stood 
forth in complete armor. At their head was Sir Thomas 
Boleyn, whose daughter was fated to surpass in beauty, 
greatness, and misfortune, all the women of England 

° Tyndale, Obedience of a Christian Man, (1528.) 
f Eximia corporis forma praeditus, in qua etiam regiaa majestatis 
augugta quaedam specios elucebat. Sanderus de Schism., p. 4. 
% Turner, Hist. Engl., 1, p. 28. 



142 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 noth- 
ing 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 sub- 
jects. 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 dis- 
tant day tore with his bloody fangs the mother of his 
children. 



THE POPE EXCITES TO WAR. 



143 



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 — Co* 
let's household — He preaches reform — The Greeks and Trojans. 

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 har- 
mony 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.* 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. Hen- 
ry 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 favorable 
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.f Henry saw nothing objectionable in this very 
unapostolic mission, and decided on substituting the 
terrible game of war for the gentler sports of peace. 

• Odorifico mnsco aspersam. Wilkins, Concilia, 3, p. 652. 

t letter of Cardinal Bembridge. Cotton MSS. Vitell. B. 2, p.8. 



144 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



In the spring of 1511, after some unsuccessful at- 
tempts by his generals, Henry determined to invade 
France in person. He was in the midst of his prepara- 
tions when the festival of Easter arrived. Dean Colet 
had been appointed to preach before Henry on Good Fri- 
day, 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 Caesar 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 their 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.* 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 ad- 
versary led forth as a criminal. " Let us be alone," said 
Henry ; " put on your cap, Master Dean, and we will 
take a walk. Cheer up," he continued, "you have noth- 
ing 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 condescen- 

• Dr. Colet was in trouble, and should have been burnt. LsM 
mer's Sermons. Parker edition, p. 440. 



A BOYAL CAMPAIGN. 



145 



sion. lie gave the required explanation. The king was 
satisfied, and exclaimed, " Let every man have his doc- 
tor as he pleases ; this man is my doctor, and I will 
drink his health." Henry was then young : very differ- 
ent was the fashion with which in after-yeais he treated 
those who opposed him. 

At heart the king cared little more about the victo- 
ries of Alexander than of Jesus Christ. Having fitted 
out his army, he embarked at the end of June, accom- 
panied by his almoner Wolsey, who was rising into 
favor, 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 vic- 
tory at the battle of Spurs, Henry, instead of pressing 
forward to the conquest of France, returned to the sjege 
of Terouenne, wasted his time in jousts and entertain- 
ments, conferred on Wolsey the bishopric of Tournay 
which he had just captured, and then returned to Eng- 
land, delighted at having made so pleasant an excursion. 

Louis XII. was a widower in his 53d year, and bow- 
ed 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 prin- 
cess Mary, then in her sixteenth year. Her affections 
were already fixed on Charles Brandon, and for him she 
would have sacrificed the splendor of a throne But rea- 
sons of state opposed their union. "The princess," re- 
marked 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 An- 
gouleme, she was conducted to the king, elated at the 
idea of marrying the handsomest princess in Europe. 

Among Mary's attendants 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 mar- 
riage, Anne had passed her childhood at Hever castlo, 

W»t «fBef.. Vol. V. 10 



146 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



surrounded by all that could heat the imagination. Her 
maternal grandfather the earl of Surry, whose eldest 
son had married the sister of Henry VI I. 's queen, had 
filled, as did his sons also, the most important offices jf 
state. At the age probably of fourteen, when summoned 
by her father to court, she wrote him the following let 
ter in French, which appears to refer to her departure 
for France : 

" Sir — I find by your letter that you wish me to ap- 
pear 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, 1 * 
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 verj 
humbly craved your good will and affection. Written 
at Hever, by 

11 Your very humble and obedient daughter, 

"ANNA DE BOULLAN."* 

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. 

• 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' Collection of royal 
and other letters, vol. 2, second series. 



MAB7 MARRIES BRANDON 



141 



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, 
nd 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 of Janu- 
ary, 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 wid- 
owed 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 ab- 
bey of Clugny, and Henry pardoned them. 

While Mary returned to England, as Wolsey had 
predicted, Anne Boleyn remained in France. Her father, 
desiring his daughter to become an accomplished wom- 
an, 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. Marga- 
ret duchess of Alen<;on, the sister of Francis, and after* 
wards queen of Navarre, often charmed the queen's cir- 
cle by her lively conversation/ She soon became deeply 
attached to the young Englishwoman, and on the death 
of Qlau4e toofc her into her own family. Anne IJpleyn 



148 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

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 N the metropolis; 
and it is almost always within its walls that a move- 
ment commences, whether for good or evil. At this 
period of our history, enthusiastic youth hailed with 
joy the first beams of the new sun. and attacked with 
their sarcasms the idleness of the monks, the immoral- 
ity 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 favor 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 f&me of a Maecenas and Ptolemy by 
inviting the learned to his gorgeous entertainments. 
" 0 happy cardinal," exclaimed Erasmus, " who can sur- 
round his table with such torches."* 

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 

° Cujus mensa talibijg luminibus cingitur. Erasm. Ej>. p. 72§. 



THE MONASTEKIES ASSAILED. 149 

Henry was not a man to put up with a refusal ; he em- 
ployed 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 famiiy 
with some of their simple neighbors. " Where," asked 
Erasmus, "where is the Athens, the Porch, or the Acade- 
me 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." 

But the friends of classical learning were not con- 
tent with the cardinal's banquets or the king's favors. 
They wanted victories, and their keenest darts were 
aimed at the cloisters, those strong fortresses of the 
hierarchy and of uncleanness.* The abbot of St. Albans, 
having taken a married woman for his concubine, and 
placed her at the head of a nunnery, his monks had fol- 
lowed his example, and indulged in the most scandalous 
debauchery. Public indignation was so far aroused, that 
Wolsey himself — Wolsey, the father of several illegiti- 
mate children, and who was suffering the penalty of his 
irregularities"}" — was carried away by the spirit of the 
age, and demanded of the pope a general reform of man- 
uers. 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 re- 
ward will be the hatred of the whole world." As this 
was not the cardinaPs 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 

° Loca sacra etiam ipsa Dei templa monialium stupro et sangui- 
nis et seminis effusione profauare non verentur. Papal bull. Wil 
kins, Concilia, p. 63? t Morbus venereus. Burnet, 



150 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



endowment, not from his own purse, but from the parses 
of the monks. He pointed out to the pope twenty-two 
monasteries, in which, he said, vice and impiety had 
taken up their abode.* The pope granted their secular- 
ization ; and Wolsey having thus procured a revenue of 
£2,000 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."f 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 les- 
son. 

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 lit- 
erary 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 Eu- 
rope. 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 antag- 
onist 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 nu- 
merous audience attended his sermons at St. Paul's. The 
spirituality of Christ's words, the authority which char- 
acterizes them, their admirable simplicity and mysteri- 
ous 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 

• Wherein much vice and wickedness was harbored. Strype, 1, 
169. The names of the monasteries are given. Ibid. 2, 132. 

-J- Instituit collegium et absolvit popinam. Fuller, cent 16, 
p. 169, 



OOLET PREACHES REFORMATION. 151 



of Jesus Christ."* Setting aside the texts 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 forerun- 
ners of the great reform of the sixteenth century. " We 
eee 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 extend- 
ed to the priests. The clergy once reformed, we shall 
proceed to the reformation of the people."f Thus spoke 
Colet, while the citizens of London listened to him with 
rapture, and called him a new St. Paul.J 

Such discourses could not be allowed to pass unpun- 
ished. Fitzjames, bishop of London, was a superstitious, 
obstinate old man of eighty, fond of money, excessively 
irritable, a poor theologian, und a slave to Duns Scotus, 
the subtte 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 wor- 
ship images ; he translates the Lord's prayer into Eng- 
lish ; 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. 

From that time Colet labored with fresh zeal to scat 
ter the darkness. He devoted the larger portion of his 

° Ita suspiciebat admirabilem illara Christi majestatem. Erasm 
Epp. 707. 

f Colet, Sermon to the Convocation. 

% Pene apostolus Paul us habitus est. Polyd. Virg. p 618. 



152 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

fortune to found the celebrated school of St. Paul, of 
which the learned Lilly was the first master. Two par- 
ties, 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 
lisputations, they had their revenge in the secret of the 
confessional. Gave a Grceois ne Jias hereticus* was the 
watchword of the priests, their daily lesson to the youth 
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 re- 
plied to the monks by inflicting fresh blows. Linacre 
a thorough literary enthusiast, 6roc3 7 n a man of ear* 
castic humor but generous heart, and many others re- 
inforced 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 St. Paul, the young king 
would set his Hellenian on him. Not more numerous 
were the contests witnessed in times of yore on the clas- 
sic banks of Xanthus and Simois. 

• Bewaxe of the Greeks, lest you should become a herefdo. 



WOLSEY, 



CHAPTER XII. 

tVolsey—His first commission — His complaisance and dioceses—Car* 
dinal. chancellor, and legate — Ostentation and necromancy— Hie 
spies and enmity — Pretensions of the clergy. 

Just as every thing 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 immoral- 
ity ; and to be a new and striking example of the whole- 
some 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 star- 
tled 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 sanc- 
tioned by high authority, had attained under Henry VII. 
the post of almoner, at the recommendation of Sir Rich- 
ard 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 reg- 
ular 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 
him. He thought he had found such a one in Wolsey. 
It was to oppose the Surreys, the grandfather and un- 
cles of Anne Boleyn, that the son of the Ipswich butcher 
was drawn from his obscurity. This is not an unimpor- 
tant circumstance in our narrative. Fox began to praise 
Wolsey in the king's hearing, and at the same time he 



154 HISTOBY OF THE BEFORMATION. 

3ncouraged the almoner to give himself to public affairs 
The latter was not deaf,* and soon found an opportunity 
of winning his sovereign's favor. 

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 
lut. The chaplain determined to show Henry VIL 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 ob- 
tained 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 catch- 
ing sight of him just as he was going to mass, sharply 
inquired why he had not set out. " Sire, I am just re- 
turned," answered Wolsey, placing the emperor's letters 
in his master's hands. Henry was delighted, and Wol- 
sey saw that his fortune was made. 

The courtiers hoped at first that Wolsey, like an in- 
experienced 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 Aqui- 
nas. The young king found his house a temple of Pa- 
ganism, a shrine of voluptuousness ;f and while Henry's 
councillors were entreating him to leave his pleasures 
and attend to business, Wolsey was continually remind- 
fng 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 

• Hjbc Wolrerius non surdis audierit auribus. Polyd. Virg. p. 622. 
t Domi 8i « roluptatuin omnium sacrarium fecit. Ibid. p. 26& 



WOLSEY'S PEIDE. 



155 



mitres had been placed on his head in one year. He 
found at last the vein he so ardently sought for. 

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 re- 
solved to make him his inferior. He wrote to Paris and 
to Rome. Francis I., who desired to conciliate Eng- 
land, demanded the purple for Wolsey, and the archbish* 
op of York received the title of Cardinal St. Cecelia be- 
yond the Tiber. In November, 1515, his hat was brought 
by the envoy of the pope. 11 It would have been better 
to have given him a Tyburn tippet," said some indignant 
Englishmen ; " these Romish hats never brought good 
into England"* — a saying that has become proverbial. 

This was not enough for Wolsey : he desired secular 
greatness above all things. Warham, tired of contend- 
ing 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 
Bee, 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 dig- 
nity as archbishop, the other as papal legate. Chamber* 
lains, gentlemen, pages, sergeants, chaplains, choristers, 
clerks, cup-bearers, cooks, and other domestics, to tho 
number of more than five hundred, among whom were 
nine or ten lords and the stateliest yeomen of the coun- 
try, filled his palace. He generally wore a dress of 
scarlet velvet and silk, with hat and gloves of the same 
color. His shoes were embroidered with gold and sit 
0 Latimer's Sermons, (Parker Society,) p 119. 



156 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 

ver, 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 : namely, his desire to 
captivate the king. For this purpose he cast Henry's 
nativity, and procured an amulet which he wore con 
stantly, in order to charm his master by its magic prop 
erties.* Then having recourse to a still more effectual 
necromancy, he selected from among the licentious com- 
panions of the young monarch those of the keenest dis- 
cernment and most ambitious character; and after bind- 
ing 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, particu- 
larly against Wolsey, of which he was not informed an 
hour afterwards. If the culprit was not in favor, 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 omnipres- 
ence, as the pope to infallibility. 

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 iEneas." But the nation was 
not to be carried away by the eulogies of a few schol- 
ars Wolsey, a man of more than suspected morals, 
double-hearted, faithless to his promises, oppressing the 
people with heavy taxes, and exceedingly arrogant to 
everybody — Wolsey soon became hated by the people of 
England. 

The elevation of a prince of the Roman church could 

° 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 bo* 
dety,) p. 308. 



HENRY ASSERTS HIS AUTHORITY. 15T 

not be favorable to the Reformation. The priests, en* 
couraged 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 theii strength. 
Holy orders had become during the middle ages a war- 
rant for every sort of crime. Parliament, desirous of 
iorrecting this abuse and checking the encroachments of 
the church, declared in the year 1513 that any ecclesias- 
tic accused of theft or murder should be tried before the 
secular tribunals. Exceptions, however, were made in 
favor of bishops, priests, and deacons — that is to say, 
nearly all the clergy. Notwithstanding this timid pre- 
caution, 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 Wol- 
sey, 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 vio- 
lation 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 com- 
binations 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. 



158 HISTOBY OF THE BEFORMATION 



CHAPTER XIII 

Hie wolves — Richard Hun— A murder — Verdict of the jury- -Hub 
condemned, and his character vindicated — The Gravesend pan 
eage-boat — A festival disturbed — Brown tortured — Visit from hi 
wife- -A martyr — Character of Erasmus — 1516 and 1517— -Eras- 
mus goes to Basle. 

It is occasionally necessary to soften down the some- 
what exaggerated colors in which contemporary writers 
describe the Romish clergy ; but there are certain appel- 
lations 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 endeavoring to gather together the sheep of 
the Lord beside the peaceful waters: these must be 
frightened, and the sheep driven into the howling wil- 
derness. "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 been often 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 tri- 
bunal, and laid an information against the priest and his 
counsel under the act of prcemunire. 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 lay- 
man will dare to resist a priest." 

Exertions were accordingly made to snare the pre- 



HUN MUBDERED. 



159 



tended rebel in the trap of heresy ;* he w as 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."f 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 Papa- 
cy ? Unable to triumph by justice, certain fanatics re- 
solved to triumph by crime. 

At midnight on the 2d of December, the day of his 
examination, three men stealthily ascended the stairs of 
the Lollards' tower ; the bell ringer 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.J 
Immediately after, the conscience-stricken Charles Jo- 
seph got on horseback and rode from the city ; the bell- 
ringer left the cathedral and hid himself : the crime dis- 
persed 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 hyp- 
ocrite. But every one knew poor Hun's Christian feel* 

• Foxe, Acts and Mon., 2, p. 8. Folio, 1684, Lond. f 
% Ibid., p. 13. 44 And so all we murdered Hun « . . and bo Huh 
ftt hanged." Evidence of Charles Joseph. 



160 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



mgs. M 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. 

On Tuesday the 5th of December, William Barnwell 
the city coroner, the two sheriffs, and twenty-four jury- 
men, 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 vio- 
lence, and that traces of blood were to be seen in the 
cell : " Wherefore all we find by God and all our con- 
sciences," runs the verdict, " that Richard Hun was mur- 
dered. Also we acquit the said Richard Hun of his own 
death."* 

It was but too true, and the criminals themselves 
confessed it. The miserable Charles Joseph having re- 
turned home on the evening of the 6th of December, said 
to his maid-servant, " If you will swear to keep my se- 
cret, 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." " Oh, master, how ? he was called 
a worthy man." "I would lever [rather] than a hun- 
dred 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 

• For particulars of the inquest, see Foxe, Acts and Mon., 2» 

r. 14. 



HUN'd CHARACTER VINDICATED. 161 



heresy, and on the 20th of December his dead body was 
burnt at Smithfield. " Hun's bones have ^een 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 the same time William Horsey the bishop's 
chancellor, Charles Joseph, and John Spalding the bell- 
ringer were convicted of the murder. A bill passed the 
Commons restoring Hun's property to his family and vin- 
dicating his character ; the lords accepted the bill, and 
the king himself said to the priests, "Kestore to these 
wretched children the property of their father, whom you 
so cruelly murdered, to our great and just horror."* " 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 the- 
ocratic 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. 

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 post- 
ed 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 intel- 
ligent 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 far- 
ther 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 chap- 
lain ?" "No; I am a soul-priest? he haughtily replied, 
"I sing mass to save souls." "Do you, sir?" rejoined 
Brown somewhat ironically ; " that is we) 1 *one ; and 
• Verdict on the inquest. Foxe* p. 12. 
II 



162 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 neighbor 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 de- 
nounced Brown to the archbishop. 

In the mean time 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, accom- 
panied 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 show- 
ing any emotion, pulled Brown out of the house and 
placed him on horseback, tying his feet under the ani- 
mal's belly.* 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. 

At the end of this time, the archbishop of Canterbury 
and the bishop of Rochester called before them the im 
pudent fellow who doubted whether a priest's mass could 
save souls, and required him to retract this " blasphe- 
my." But Brown, if he did not believe in the mass, be- 
lieved in the gospel : " Christ was once offered," he said, 

• Foxe, Acts, 2, p. 7. His feet bound under his own horse. 



BBOWN POT? TO THE TORTUBE. 163 



"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 execu- 
tioners, 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.* 
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 or- 
dered him to be given over to the secular arm, that he 
might be burnt alive. 

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 ofi 
crying to the house, and told her mistress, " I have seen 

him He was bound, and they were taking him to 

prison."f 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 aiive 
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. "1 
cannot set my feet to the ground," said he, "for bishops 
have burnt them to the bones ; but they could not bum 
my tongue, and prevent my confessing to the Lord. . . , 
Oh, Elizabeth, .... continue to love him, for he is good , 
and bring up our children in his fear." 

On the following morning — it was Whitsunday — th 
brutal Chilton and his assistants led Brown to the place 

° His bare feet were set upon hot burning coals. The Lollards* 
edit. Tract Soc., p. 149. 

f A young maid of his house coming by saw her master, she ran 
home. The Lollards, p. 50. 



104 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



of execution, and fastened him to the stake. Eliza beth 
and Alice, with his other children and his friends, desir- 
ous of receiving his last sigh, surrounded the pile utter- 
ing ciies of anguish. The fagots were set on fire- whita 
Brown, calm and collected, and full of confidence v\ the 
blood of the Saviour, clasped his hands and repeated this 
hymn, which Foxe has preserved :* 

0 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. 

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 tender 
est compassion, and turned with a movement of indigna- 
tion towards the executioners. The brutal Chilton per- 
ceiving 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."f He rushed tow- 
ards Alice, and was about to lay hold of her, when the 
3 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. 

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 ac- 
cordingly. 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 sar- 
casm. When speaking of St. Asaph's, it was very com 
mon to abbreviate it into St. As's; and as Standish was 

• Foxe, Acts and Mon. 2, p. 8, folio, 1684 ; 4, p. 132, Lond., 
1838. We shall in future refer to the latter edition, as being more 
accessible. 

f Bade cast in his children also, for they would spring of hii 
ashes. Ibid. 



OHABACTEK OF EBASMUS. 165 



a theologian of no great learning, Erasmus, in his jest- 
ing way, would sometimes call him Episcopus a Sando 
Asino. As the bishop could not destroy Colet the disci- 
ple, he flattered himself that he should triumph over the 
master. 

Erasmus knew Standish's intentions. Should he com 
mence in England that struggle with the Papacy which 
Luthei was about to begin in Germany ? It was no lon- 
ger 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 lit- 
erary community. By means of his connections and his 
correspondence, which extended over all Europe, he es- 
tablished 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-abandon- 
ment, 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.* 

In the year 1517, a crisis had arrived : the period of 
the revival was over, that of the Reformation was begin- 
ning. The restoration of letters was succeeded by the 
regeneration of religion : the days of criticism and neu- 
tiality 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 move- 
ment of modern times : Erasmus was a mere man of let- 
tors. 

When attacked by Standish in 1516, the literary king 
• Ad. MuJler. 



166 HISTOBt 02 THE REIT OKHATION. 



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 des- 
tined 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 pro- 
found, 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 Eras* 
mus. 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 an- 
nounced 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 labors — a book which would do 
more than he desired. He hastened to Basle, and took 
up his quarters in Frobenius' printing-office,* where he 
not only labored himself, but made others labor. Eng- 
land will soon receive the seed of the new life, and the 
reformation is about to begin. 

• Frobenio, nt nullius officinae plus debeant aacrarum stadia 
Itsrarum. Erasni. Ep., p. 330. 



BOOK XYIIL 



THE REVIVAL OP THE CHURCH. 

CHAPTER I. 

Bbcur reforming powers — Which reformed England? — Papal re- 
form ? — Episcopal reform ? — Itayal 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 — Clamors of the 
priests — Their attack at court — Astonishment of Erasmus — His 
labors for this work — Edward Lee— His character — Lee's trage- 
dy — 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 sep- 
arate him from the Saviour instead of drawing him near- 
er. This reformation by the word restores that spiritual 
Christianity which the outward and hierarchical religion 
had dostroyed ; and from the regeneration of individuals 
naturally results the regeneration of the church. 

The reformation of England, perhaps to a greater 



103 HISTORY OE THE REFORMATION, 



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 appeal 
in England; but holy Scripture is widely circulated. 
What brought light into the British isles subsequently 
to the year 15 H, and on a more extended scale after the 
year 1526, was the word — the invisible power of the in- 
visible 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 distin- 
guished 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 pope- 
dom 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."* 

The reformation of England was not episcopal. Ro 
man 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 them- 
selves. 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. Sam 
nel, 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 

• James of Juterbock, prior of the Carthusians : De septeia efr 
alesiie statibus opuscurum. 



HUMAN ELEMENTS* 



169 



often been repeated, that "the English Reformation de- 
rives its origin from the monarch f 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 
intrench ments, when God had already decided the vic- 
tory along the whole line of operations. 

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 revolu- 
tion 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-revo- 
lution. 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 be- 
longs not unto men, even though they be priests : God 
alone is its lawful sovereign. 

And yet the human elements which we have enu- 
merated 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 interven- 
tion of the temporal power was necessary to break the 
bonds which it had previously sanctioned. But it was 

BIH. of Bet, Vol. T 



HO HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 fol 
lowed ; and ever since, these two forces have sometime* 
gone together against the authority of the Roman pon 
tiffs — 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 
Bwords 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. 

These two parties have survived even to our days, 
and their colors 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 sixteenth century, 
is recognized by both parties in the establishment, with 
Borne few exceptions. But while 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 hierarch- 
ism, 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 



POLITICAL EVENTS. 



Ill 



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 Ma 
rignano, and conquered the north of Italy. The affright- 
ed Maximilian knew of none who could save him but 
Henry VIII. "I will adopt you; you shall be my suc- 
cessor 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.* Henry now showed his prudence ; he declin- 
ed 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. 

The great work of the sixteenth 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' 
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 pre- 
tender 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. 

• A private combination, etc. Strype'g Mem. 1, part 2, p. 16. 



1*12 BISTOBY OF THE EEFORMATION. 



When Erasmus published this work, at the dawn, 80 
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 in their 
marble, their ivory, and their gold ; I who am poor and 
humble offer the foundation stone f and he laid down be- 
fore 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."* These noble sentiments 
served as an introduction to those blessed pages which 
were to reform England. Erasmus, like Caiaphus, proph- 
esied without being aware of it. 

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.f 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' figure. Franciscans and Domini 
icans, priests and bishops, not daring to attack the edu- 
cated and well-born, went among the ignorant populace, 

° In evangelicis litteris, sermo ille ccelestis, quondam e corda 
Patris ad noa profectus. Erasm. Leoni, Ep. p. 1843. 

f Op ua avidiasime rapitur . . . amatur, manibus teritur Erasm 
Bp. p. 567, 



ATTACK OF THE PRIESTS. ITS 



and endeavored by their tales and clamors to stir up 
susceptible women and credulous men. " Here are hor- 
rible heresies," they exclaimed ; " here are frightful an- 
tichrists 1 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 reechoed 
with their howlings," said Erasmus.* The firebrands 
tossed by their furious hands were raising fires in 
every quarter ; and the flames kindled in a few ob- 
scure convents threatened to spread over the whole 
country. 

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 call- 
ed for it.f "Perhaps it may be necessary to conceal 
the secrets of kings," he remarked, "but we must pub- 
lish the mysteries of Christ. The holy Scriptures, trans- 
lated 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 shut- 
tle, and the wearied traveller, halting on his journey, 
refresh him under some shady tree by these godly narra- 
tives." 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 centu- 
ries was to endeavor to carry them out for the benefit of 
all the nations on the face of the earth. 

The priests saw the danger, and by a skilful manoeu- 
vre, 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 St. Jerome. He sets aside a work author- 
ized by the consent of ages and inspired by the Holy 
Ghost. What audacity !" and then, turning over the 

• Oblatrabant sycophantae. Erasm. Ep. p. 329. 
f Paraclesis ad lector em pium 



It4 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

pages, they pointed out the most odious passages. " Look 
here ; this book calls upon men to repent, instead of requir- 
ing them, as the Vulgate does, to do penance" Matt. 
4:17. The priests thundered against him from their 
pulpits.* "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 
goosef . . . what do I say ? he's a very antichrist." 

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 Testa 
ment, what an awful calamity I . . . After having agi 
tated the cloisters, towns, and universities, they resolv- 
ed 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 pres- 
ent, and turning his eyes on Henry, observed him smil- 
ing good-hum oredly. J 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 ex- 
claimed, "I know not what spirit impelled me." "A 
spirit of madness," said the king, "and not the spirit Ox 

• Quain strlide debacchati sunt quidam e suggestis ad populum. 
Erasm. Ep. p. U93. 

f Nos clamitans esse grues (cranes) et bestias. Ibid. p. 914. 

% Pacaeus in legem conjecit oculos. ... Is mox Pacaeo sua vital 
trriait. Ibid. 



LABORS OF ERASMUS. 



Jesus Christ."* He then added, "Have you ever ~ead 
Erasmus?" "No, sire." "Away with you then, you 
are a blockhead." " And yet," said the preacher in con- 
fusion, ''I remember to have read something about Mo 
ria" Erasmus' treatise on Folly. "A subject, your 
majesty, that ought to be very familiar to him," wicked- 
ly 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."*)* This was greeted with a general laugh, 
and the king impatiently ordered the monk to leave the 
room, and never appear before him again. 

Erasmus was astonished at these discussions. He 
had imagined the season to be most favorable. " Every 
thing looks peaceful," he had said to himself ; " now is 
the time to launch my Greek Testament into the learned 
world."J 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 1" exclaimed the timid scholar, beating his breast ; 
" who could have foreseen this horrible tempest ?"§ 

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."|| He had collated 
many Greek manuscripts of the New Testament, ^ and 
was surrounded by all the commentaries and transla- 
tions, by the writings of Origen, Cyprian, Ambrose, 
Basil, Chrysostom, Cyril, Jerome, and Augustine. Hio 

• Turn rex: ut qui inquit, spiritus iste non erat Christi sed stud- 
titias. Erasm. Ep. p. 914. 

f Gracis, inquit, Uteris non perinde sum infensus, quod originem 
habeant ex lingua hebraica. Ibid p. 347. 

% Erant tempora tranquilla. Ibid. p. 911. 

§ Quia enim suspicaturus erat hanc fatalem tempestatem excel- 
turam in orbe ? Ibid. 

I Quantis mihi constiterit sudoribus. Ibid. p. 329. 

% Collatis multis Graecorum exemplaribus. Ibid. 



116 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



mm m campo meof he exclaimed as he sat in the midBt 
of his books. He had investigated the texts according 
to the principles of sacred criticism. When a knowledge 
of Hebrew w r as necessary, he had consulted Capito, and 
more particularly (Ecolampadius. Nothing without The- 
seus, said he of the latter, making use of a Greek prov* 
erb. 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 ver- 
sion. 

"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."* Nor in this was 
he deceived. 

At the head of his adversaries was Edward Lee, suc- 
cessively 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-bov, he looked down on all his com- 
panions.f As child, youth, man, and in mature years, 
he was always the same, Erasmus tells us ;J 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 ot 
Eoman-catholicism, there have always existed well-mean- 
ing, though ill-informed men, who, not knowing the in- 
terior 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 severe 
ly than Erasmus does, we cannot close our eyes to hia 

• Deum testor simpliciter existimabam me rem facere Deo gra- 
tam ac rei christian® necessariam. Erasm. Ep. p. 911 

f Solus haberi in pretio volebat. Ibid. p. 693. 

X Talis erat puer, talis adolescens, talis juvenis, talis nunc etiam 
vlrest. Ibid. 694. 



LEAGUE AGAINST THE NEW TESTAMENT. Ht 



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 out> 
ward appearance and morality than Luther's adversary 
Yet he was by no means a rigid moralist. On one oo^ 
casion, when preaching at the palace, he introduced bal- 
' lads into his sermon, one of which began thus : 

"Pass timo with good company." 

And the other, 

"I love unloved." 

We are indebted to Secretary Pace for this charao 
teristic trait.* 

During the sojourn of Erasmus in England, Lee, 
observing his influence, had sought his friendship, and 
Erasmus, with his usual courtesy, had solicited his ad- 
vice upon his work. But Lee, jealous of his great repu- 
tation, only waited for an opportunity to injure it, which 
he seized upon as soon as it occurred. The New Testa* 
ment had not been long published, when Lee turned 
round abruptly, and from being Erasmus' friend, became 
his implacable adversary.f "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. 

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, wel- 
comed strangers, and gained many recruits by the ex- 
cellence of his dinners.^ While seated at table among 
his guests, he hinted perfidious charges against Eras- 

• State Papers, Henry VIII. etc. 1, p. 10, rub. 1830. 
f Subito factus est inimicus. Erasm. Ep. p. 746. 
X Excipiebat advenas, praBsertim Anglos, eos conviviia faciobat 
**». Ibid. p. 693. 

X3 



178 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



mns, and his company left him "loaded with lies.** 

"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 let- 
ters, and employed several secretaries. Was there any 
convent in the odor of sanctity, he "forwarded tc 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.f In 
this manner they were preparing the catastrophe — a 
prison for Erasmus, the fire for the holy Scriptures. 

When all was arranged, Lee issued his manifesto. 
Although a poor Greek scholar,^ he drew up some An- 
notations on Erasmus' 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.§ 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 Aris- 
tarchus of letters, might not have sent you a birch to 
keep the whole world in order." || 

The Annotations having triumphed in the convents, 
the conspiracy took a new flight. In every place of pub- 
lic 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 cotta- 
ges and in palaces, the league blattered against Eras* 
mus and the Greek Testament.^" Carmelites, Domini- 

° Abeuntes omni mendaciorum genere dimittebat cniisto* 
firasm. Ep. p. 593. 

t Donee Leus ordiretur suam tragcediam. Ibid. p. 913. 
J Siraon, Hist. crit. du N. Test. p. 246. 

§ Liber volitat inter manus conjuratoruni. Erasm. Ep. p. 746. 
|| Roi tradita virgula totius or bis censuram fuerit mandaturu& 
QM p. 742 

<[( Dt liusquam non blaterent in Erasmum, in coinpotationibus, 



OBNEBAL OPPOSITION. 



179 



cans, and Sophists invoked heaven and conjured hell. 
What need was there of Scripture ? Had they not the 
apostolical succession of the clergy? No hostile land- 
ing 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 Eeformation was receiv- 
eJ by so unexpected a storm. 

n forfa, in conciliabulis, in pharmacopoliis, in curribus, in tonstrl 
oifi, in f )rnicibus, . . . Erasm. Ep. p. 746 



i80 HIBTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER II. 

Effects of the New Testament in the universities — Conversations— 
A Cambridge fellow — Bilneybuys the New Testament— The firsfe 
passage — His conversion — Protestantism the fruit of the gospel 
—The vale of the Severn — William Tyndale — Evangelization at 
Oxford — Bilney teaches at Cambridge — Fry th — Is conversion pos- 
sible ? — True consecration — The Keformation has begun. 

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 lec- 
ture-rooms and refectories, students, and even masters of 
arts, were to be seen reading the Greek and Latih Testa- 
ment. Animated groups were discussing the piinciples 
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 partisans of 
Rome, it was the teaching of the apostles at first, and it 
is the teaching of the priests now. The apostles, re- 
joined 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 re 
formers 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, ard it w*$ 



THOMAS BILNEYt 



181 



to this written word that our Lord appealed when he 
founded his kingdom.* 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 rees- 
tablish the kingdom of our Lord in its primitive condi- 
tion. The night is far spent, the day is at hand ; all is 
in motion — in the lofty halls of our colleges, in the man* 
sions 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 ? 

There was in Trinity Hall, Cambridge, a young doc* 
tor 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 con- 
fessor, with humble look and pale face he told him ail 
his sins, and even those of which he doubted.f The 
priest prescribed at one time fasting, at another pro- 
longed vigils, and then masses and indulgences which 
cost him dearly. J The poor doctor went through all 
these practices with great devotion, but found no conso- 
lation in them. Being weak and slender, his body wast 
ed away by degrees,§ 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 inter* 

• Matt. 22:29; 26:24, 64; Mark 14:49; Luke 18:31; 24:27, 
44, 46 ; John 6:39, 46; 10:36; 17:12, etc. 

f In ignaros medicos, indoctos confessionum auditores. Tb Bil 
&»ub Tonstallo Episcopo ; Foxe, 4, p. 633. 

X Indiceba&t enim mihi jejunia, vigilias, indulgentiarum et mi» 
iarutn emptiones. Ibid. 

§ Ut parum mihi virium (alioqui natura imbecilli) reliquom 
ftwrit Ibid 



182 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



est, and not the salvation of my soul V* But immedi- 
ately rejecting the rash doubt, he fell back under the 
iron hand of the clergy. 

One day Bilney heard his friends talking about a new 
book : it was the Greek Testament printed with a trans- 
lation which was highly praised for its elegant latinity.f 
Attracted by the beauty of the style rather than by thi: 
divinity of the subject,! 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' Testament was particu 
larly forbidden. Yet Bilney regretted so great a sacri 
fice ; 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 col- 
lege, 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.§ 

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." 1 Tim. 1 : 15. 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. " 0 assertion of St. Paul, how sweet art thou to 
my soul 1" he exclaimed. || This declaration continually 
haunted him, and in this manner God instructed him in 
the secret of his heart. He could not tell what had 
happened to him ;** it seemed as if a refreshing wind 

• Sua potius quasrebant quam salutem animaB meae languentis 
Foxo, 4, p. 633. f ^ um aD eo latinius redditum acoepi. Ibi* 
J Latinitate potius quaui verbo Doi, allectus. Ibid. 
§ Emebam providentia (sine dubio) divina. Ibid. 
|| O mihi suavissimam Pauli sententiam ! Ibid. 
% Hac una sententia, Deo intus in corde meo docente. Ibid. 
•° Quod tunc fieri ignorabam. Ibid. 



BGINNING OF THE REFORMATION. 183 



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. " 1 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."* 

His doubts were ended ; he was saved. Then took 
place in him a wonderful transformation. An unknown 
joy pervaded him ;f his conscience, until then sore with 
the wounds of sin, was healed ;J instead of despair, he 
felt an inward peace passing all understanding^ " Je- 
sus 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 Biluey ; " my vigils, my fasts, my pilgrimages, my 
purchase of masses and indulgences were destroying, in- 
stead of saving me.|| All these efforts were, as St. Au- 
gustine says, a hasty running out of the right way."^[ 

Bilney never grew tired of reading his New Testa- 
ment. He no longer lent an attentive ear to the teach 
ing of the schuolmen : he heard Jesus at Capernaum, 
Peter in the temple, Paul on Mars' hill, and felt within 
trmself 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, A polios, 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 
6 1 tie th generation, like the Romish church of the council 

• Tandem de Jeau audiebam. Foxe, 4, p. 633. 
\ Sic exhilaravit pectus meum. Ibid. 

J Peccatoruui cunscientia saucium ac pene desperabundum. Ib 

§ Nescio quantam intus tranquillitatein sentire. Ibid. 

1 Didici oiiines liieos conatus, etc. Ibid. 

^ Quod ait Augustinus, celereui cursuia extra viam. Ibid 



184 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of Trent, or in the sixtieth, like some modern doctors * 
it is the direct legitimate sun, the son of the master. 

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 six- 
teenth 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 h*d 
swooped upon it. For fifty years, from 1484 to 1534, 
four Italian bishops, placed m succession over the dio- 
cese, had surrendered it to the pope, to the monks, and 
to immorality. Thieves in particular were the objects 
of the tenderest favors 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.* 

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 ot yore by 
many noble barons.f 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 par- 
tisans 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 wa- 
ters of the Severn, and in the midst of friars and pontif- 
ical collectors. He was sent very early to Oxfbrd,J 

• Annals of the English Bible, 1, p. 12. 

f B%iand's Glo'ster, p. 293. Annals of the English Bible, 1, 
p. 19. % *' rom a child. Foxe, Acts and Mon., 6, p. 116 



HENRI TYNDALE. 



185 



where he learned grammar and philosophy in the school 
of St. Mary Magdalene, adjoining the college of that 
name. He made rapid progress, particularly in lan- 
guages, under the first classical scholars in England, 
Grocyn, W. Latimer, and Linacre, and took his degrees.* 
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. 

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 beau- 
ties were calculated to excite religious feelings ; but ere- 
long 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. This strange book spoke to him of God, of 
Christ, and of regeneration, with a simplicity and author- 
ity 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, efipritta, 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,f gathered round 
him, and read with him the Greek and Latin gospels of 
Erasmus. J " 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 

0 Proceeding in degrees of the schools. Foxe, Acts and Mon., 
ft, p. 116. 

f His manners and conversation being correspondent to the 
Scriptures. Ibid. 

X Bead privily to certain students and fellows, instructing them 
in the knowledge and truth of the Scriptures. Ibid. 



186 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 

on Greek literature at Oxford."* He was probably speafc 
ing of Tyndale. 

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 nave been laying their plans these dozen years."f 
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 Ox- 
ford perhaps before Wittemberg. Tyndale, bearing in 
mind the injunction, " When they persecute you in one 
city, tiee 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 gath- 
ered together, they brighten up, so as even to purify sil- 
ver and gold. The Romish hierarchy, not knowing what 
they did, were collecting the scattered brands of the Ref- 
ormation. 

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, " 0 Thou who 
art the truth, give me strength, that I may teach it ; and 
convert the ungodly by means of one who has been un- 
godly himself."J After this prayer his eyes gleamed 
with new tire ; he had assembled his friends, and open- 
ing Erasmus 7 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. 

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 hi 

• Oxoniae cum juvenis quidam non vulgariter doctus. Erasm 
Epp., p. 346. 

t Which they have been in brewing, as I hear, this dozen years. 
Tyndale's Expositions, Park Soc, p. 225. 

X Ut impii ad ipsuin per me olim impium converterentur. Foxe, 
Acts, 4 p. 633. 



BILNEY TEACHES AT CAMBRIDGE. 181 



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 recognized in 
holy Scripture a learning of a new kind. " These things 
we 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 inteiven- 
tion of a divine power. Christianity is a regeneration." 
The heavenly seed soon grew up in Fryth's heart.* 

These three young, scholars set to work with enthu- 
siasm. 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." 

Ideas so new produced a great clamor. 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,f dost thou think that 
thou canst in one year take as many steps towards heav- 
en, and that in thine age, as thou hast done towards hell?" 
Bilney left the church with indignation. " Is that preach- 
ing repentance in the name of Jesus ?" he asked. " Does 
not this priest tell us, Christ will not save thee?| 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 bish- 
op ? He replied, " What would be the use of being 
undred times consecrated, were it even by a thousand 

° Through Tyndale' s instructions he first received into his heart 
the seed of the gospel. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 4. 

f Even as a beast in his own dung. Ibid., 4, p. 640. 
% He will not be thy Jesus or Saviour. Ibid. 



188 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



papal bulls, if the inward calling is wanting ?* 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 ex- 
treme nicety what constitutes the essence of conseora 
tion to the service of the Lord. 

After pronouncing these noble words, Bilney, wlr 
longed for an outpouring of the Holy Ghost, shut him- 
self up in his room, fell on his knees, and called upon 
God to come to the assistance of his church. Then ris- 
ing up, he exclaimed, as if animated by a prophetic 
spirit, " A new time is beginning ; the Christian assem- 
bly is about to be renewed Some one is coming 

unto us ; I see him, I hear him ; it is Jesus Christ, f . . . 
He is the King, and it is he who will call the true min* 
isters commissioned to evangelize his people." 

Tyndale, full of the same hopes as Bilney, left Can> 
bridge 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, learned to be proud of this 
origin of its reformation. 

• Without this inward calling, it helpeth nothing before God to 
be * hundred times elect and consecrated. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 638. 
f If it be Christ, him that cometh unto us. Ibi 1, p. 637. 



ALARM OF THE CLERGY. 



m 



CHAPTER III. 

Alarm of the clergy — The two days — Thomas Man's preaching — 
TVce real presence — Persecutions at Coventry — Standish preaches 
at St. Paul's — His petition to the king and queen — His argu 
ments 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. 

This revival caused great alarm throughout the Ro- 
man hierarchy. Content with the baptism they adminis- 
tered, they feared the baptism of the Holy Ghost per- 
fected 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 awak- 
ening of the fourteenth century was about to be suc- 
ceeded 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 Lol- 
lards, who here and there still recalled the days of 
Wickliffe. 

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 east- 
ern parts of England, where he had preached the word, 
supplying his daily wants by the labor of his hands.* 

• Work thereby to sustain his poor life. Foxe, Act*, 4 p. 209. 



190 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



This "champion of God" afterwards drew near the cap- 
ital, 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 chamler" 
of London, or in some lonely meadow watered by the 
Thames, or under the aged oaks of Windsor forest. He 
thought with Ohrysostom of old, that "all priests are 
not saints, but all saints are priests."* "He that re- 
ceiveth the word of God," said he, " receiveth God him- 
self ; that is the true real presence. The venders of 
masses are not the high-priests of this mystery ;f 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.^ 

The monks, who dared not as yet attack the univer- 
sities, 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 of 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 Mack- 
stock, about six miles from Coventry, and the children 
to the Greyfriars' convent. "Let us see what heresies 
you have been taught," said Friar Stafford to the intim- 
idated 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 com* 
mandments in English. 19 

9 ChryBostom, 43 Homily on Matthew. 

t £e called them pilled knavet. Fo*e, 4. P- 209. % P-3W- 



THE COVENTRY MARTYRS. 



191 



Tive weeks after this, the men were condemned to be 
burnt alive ; but the judges had compassion on the wid- 
ow 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. Ap- 
proaching 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."* 
Then seizing the poor widow by the arm, he dragged 
her before the bishop. Sentence of death was immedi- 
ately 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 chil- 
dren the Lord's prayer, the apostles' creed, and the com- 
mandments of God. 

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."f But Standish was deficient in tact, 
and instead of confining himself to general statements, 
like most of his party, he endeavored to show how far 

• Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 357. 

f Imminere christianae religionis navoXerpeiav, nisi novaB transla, 
ttoues omnes subito de medio tollerentur. Erasm. Ep. p. 69§. 



192 HI8T0BY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 tianslated the opening words of St, 
John's gospel. Bisum teneatis, whispered one to another 
when they heard this puerile charge. " My lord," pro- 
ceeded the bishop, turning to the mayor, " magistrates 
of the city, and citizens all, fly to the succor of relig- 
ion." 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. 

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 thunderstruck, and asked 
one another what the old bishop could mean. " Great 
king," said he, " your ancestors, who have reigned over 
this island, and yours, 0 great queen, who have govern- 
ed Aragon, were always distinguished by their zeal for 
the church. Show yourselves worthy of your forefathers. 
Times full of danger are come upon us if 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." 

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 towards heaven, and kneeling in 

0 Ades&e tempora longe periculosissima. Eraara. Ep. p. 697. 



STANDISH'S ARGUMENTS AND DEFEAT. 193 



the midst of the courtly assembly, exclaimed in a sor- 
rowful tone, " 0 Christ, 0 Son of God, save thy spouse, 
.... for no man cometh to her help."* 

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, touch- 
ing successively the fingers of his left,f 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 endeavored 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 school-boy 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 Star.dish, 
„ ashamed at having made a Greek write to the Greeks 
in Hebrew, would have withdrawn unobserved. " The 
beetle must not attack the eagle,"! was whispered in 

° Caepit obsecrare Christum dignaretur ipse sua* sponsae opi ta- 
lari. Erasm. Ep. p. 598. 

| Et rem in digitos porrectos dispartiens. Ibid. 

X Scarabseus ille qui maximo suo malo aquilam quaeuvit. Ibid. 
P- 566. 

H!«.ofB«l,Vol.V, x O 



194 HISTOEI OP THE REFORMATION. 



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. 

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 em- 
pire of the papacy on the banks of the Thames, and per- 
haps 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 mens. Having reached so great a 
height, he desired to soar still higher. The favorite of 
Henry VIII., almost his master, treated as a brother by 
the emperor, by the king of France, and by other crown- 
ed heads, invested with the title of majesty, the peculiar 
property of sovereigns,* 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. 

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 bish- 
op 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. 

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 

• Consultissima tua Majestas. Vestra sublimis et longe reve- 
rendiBsima Majeetas, etc. Fiddes, Bodleian Papers, p. 178. 



HENRY VIII. — FRANCIS I. 



195 



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 competi- 
tors, and secretly strove to win "the monarchy of all 
Christendom."* Wolsey flattered himself that, hidden 
under the cloak of his masters ambition, he might sat- 
isfy his own. If he procured the crown of the Caesars 
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. 

Henry first sounded the king of Prance. 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 whisper- 
ed to him, "Some of the electors have offered me the 
empire ; I hope your master will be favorable to me." 
Sir Thomas, in confusion, made some vague reply, and 
the chivalrous king, following up his idea, took the am- 
bassador firmly by on*} hand, and laying the other on his 
breast, f 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 Fran- 
cis that he would support his candidature. Upon hear- 
ing this, Francis raised his bat and exclaimed, "I desire 
to see the king of England; 1 will see him, I tell you, 
even if I go to London witb only one page and one 
lackey." 

Francis was well aware that if he threatened the 
king's ambition, he must flatter the minister'?, and recol- 

• Cotton MSS. Brit. Mus. Calig. D. 7, p. 88. 
t He took me haid by the wrist with one bona, *vu4 htfi? the 
other upon his breast. Ibid. D. 8, p. 93. 



196 HISTOBY. OP THE REFOBMATION. 



lecting 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 . . . some- 
thing 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 reign 
ing pope, I will promise him fourteen cardinals on my 
part.* Let us only act in concert, your master and me, 
and I promise you, Master Ambassador, that neither 
pope nor emperor shall be created in Europe without 
our consent." 

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 
of 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 !"f 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. 

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 eter- 
nal hatred of each other, and each was anxious to win 
over Henry VIII. At one time Charles, under the pre- 
tence of seeing his uncle and aunt, visited England ; at 
another, Francis had an interview with the king in the 
neighborhood 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 

° He will assure you full fourteen cardinals for him. Cotton 
MS& Calig. D. F. p. 98. 

\ Bi the messe ! State Papers, 1, 9. 



THE CARDINAL'S PRACTICES. 191 



pontificate," said the young emperor to him ; and at 
these words the ambitious cardinal surrendered himself 
to Maximilian's successor. But erelong Francis I. flat- 
tered 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, whos-& 
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 honor. 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 Eng- 
land who might serve as a ladder to reach it. Murder 
might serve as the complement to fraud. 



198 HISTOBt 0* THE KEFORMATIOH. 



CHAPTER IV. 

lyndale— Sodbury hall— Sir John and Lady Walsh— Table- talk— 
The holy Scriptures — The images — The anchor of faith — A Ro 
man camp — Preaching of faith and works — Tyndale accused by 
the priests — They tear up what he has planted — Tyndale re- 
solves to translate the Bible— His first triumph — The priests in 
the Taverns — Tyndale summoned before the chancellor of Wor- 
cester — Consoled by an aged doctor — Attacked by a schoolman 
— His secret becomes known — He leaves Sodbury hall. 

While this ambitious prelate was thinking of noth- 
ing but his own glory and that of the Roman pontifi- 
cate, a great desire, but of a very different nature, was 
springing up in the heart of one of the humble " gospel- 
lers" 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 reestablishing 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 Ox- 
ford doctor everywhere, was to be the mighty main- 
spring 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 favor of his prince. He 
kept open table ; and gentlemen, deans, abbots arch- 
deacons, 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 dis- 
cussing throughout Christendom. Lady Walsh, herself 
a sensible and generous woman, lost not a word of the 



TABLE-TALK AT SODBURY. 



199 



animated conversation of her guests, and discreetly tried 
to incline the balance to the side of truth.* 

Tyndale, after leaving Oxford and Cambridge, had 
returned to the home of his fathers. Sir John had re- 
quested 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 de- 
sire 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,f 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.^ They 
discussed several questions touching the holy Scrip- 
tures, and sundry points of theology. Tyndale express- 
ed his convictions with admirable clearness, supported 
them with great learning, and kept his ground against 
all with unbending courage. These animated conversa- 
tions 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. 

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 neighbor- 
hood, with several abbots, deans, monks, and doctors, in 
their respective costumes. Tyndale occupied the hum- 
blest place, and generally kept Erasmus' New Testa- 
ment within reach, in order to prove what he advanced. § 

° Lady Walsh, a stout and wise woman. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 116. 
f Who were together with Master Tyndale sitting at the same 
table. Ibid. 

X Talk of learned men, as of Luther and Erasmus, etc. Ibid. 
§ When they at any time did vary from Tyndale in opinions 
uid judgment, he would show them in the book. Ibid. 



200 HrBTOBT OF THE BEFOBMATION. 

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 every thing, and leaves him 
as bare as Job."* " The word of God! why, even we 
do n't understand your word ; how can the vulgar under- 
stand it ?" " You do not understand it," rejoined Tyn- 
dale, "because you look into it only for foolish ques- 
tions, as you would into Our Lady's Matins or Merlin's 
Prophecies.^ Now the Scriptures are a clue which we 
must follow, without turning aside, until we arrive at 
Christ ;$ for Christ is the end." " And I tell you," shout- 
ed out a priest, "that the Scriptures are a Daedalian 
labyrinth, rather than Ariadne's clue — a conjuring book 
wherein everybody finds what he wants." "Alas," re- 
plied 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."§ "No," exclaimed 
another clerk, heedless of contradicting his colleague, 
" nothing is obscure to us ; it is we who give the Scrip- 
tures, 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 ?|| 
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." 

• Tyndale, Expositions, Park. Soc, p 140. 

f Tyndale, Expositions, Park. Soc., p. 141. 

% So along by the Scripture as by a line until thou come at 
Christ. Tynd. Works, 1, 354, ed. Kussell. 

§ A grave of briers ; if thou lose thyself in one place, thou art 
oaoght in another. Tyndale, Expositions, p. 6. 

(1 Tyndale, Answer to More, Park. Soc, p. 49. 



OBIGIIt OF THE REFORMATIO!?. 201 



Tyndale was not satisfied with merely laying down 
the great principles of faith: he always sought after 
what he calls " the sweet marrow within f but to the 
divine unction he added no little humor, 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 do n't you make their bellies hollow, and put vict- 
uals and drink inside ?* To serve God by such mum- 
meries is treating him like a spoilt child, whom you 
pacify with a toy or with a horse made of a stick."f 

But the learned Christian soon returned to more se- 
rious 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,^ 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 Testa- 
ment, would set his finger on the verse which refuted 
the Romish error, and exclaim, " Look and read."§ 

The beginnings of the English Reformation are not 
to be found, as we have seen, in a material ecclesiasti* 
cism which has been decorated with the name of Eng- 
lish Catholicism; they are essentially spiritual. The di- 
vine word, the creator of new life in the individual, ie 
also the founder and reformer of the church. The re- 
formed 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 

• Make a hollow belly in the image. Tyndale, Answer to More, 
Fark. Soc., p. 81. 

f Make him a horse of a stick. Tyndale's Works, ed. Russell, 
2, 476. % Ibid. Expositions, Park. Soc, p. 15. 

§ And lay plainly before them the open and manifest place? oi 
the Scriptures, to confute their errors and confirm his sayings. 
Fozo, Acta, 5 t p. 115. 



202 HISTOBT Off THE REFORMATION. 



table. He would often ramble to the top of Sodbury 
till, and there repose amid the ruins of an ancient Ro- 
man 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. Amid these ruins, monuments 
Df the Roman invasion and of the civil dissensions ot 
England, Tyndale meditated upon other battles which 
were to restore liberty and truth to Christendom. Then 
rousing himself, he would descend the hill and coura- 
geously resume his task. 

Behind the mansion stood a little church, overshad- 
owed by two large yew-trees, and dedicated to St. Ade- 
line. 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 ex- 
plained 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 good- 
ness is the root of all goodness. Antichrist turneth the 
tree of salvation topsy-turvy :* he planteth the branch- 
es, and setteth the roots upwards. We must put it 
straight As the husband marrieth the wife be- 

fore he can have any lawful children by her, even so 
faith justifieth us to make us fruitful in good works.f 
But neither the one nor the other should remain barren. 
Faith is the holy candle wherewith we must bless our* 
selves at the last hour ; without it, you will go astray 

• Antichrist turneth the roots of the tree upward. Tyndale, 
Doctrinal Treatises, Park. Soc, p. 295. 

f Tyndale, Parable of the Wicked Mammon. Ibid., p. 126. 



TYNDALE DHWARMD. 



203 



In the valley of the shadow of death, though you had a 
thousand tapers lighted around your bed."* 

The priests, irritated at such observations, deter- 
mined 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,*)* .... and were it rea- 
son, think you, Master William, that we should believe 
you before them?" Tyndale, opening the New Testa- 
ment, 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."^ The word of God was there, positive and 
supreme : the sword of the Spirit cut the difficulty. 

Before long the manor-house and St. Adeline's church 
became too narrow for Tynd ale'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.§ But 
no sooner had he preached in any place, than the priests 
hastened thither, tore up what he had planted, || called 
him a heretic, and threatened to expel from the church 
every one who dared listen to him. When Tyndale re- 
turned, 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 

° Though thou hadst a thousand holy candles about thee. Doc- 
trinal Treatises, Park. Soc., p. 48. 

f Well, there was such a doctor who may dispend a hundred 
pounds. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 115. 

% Answering by the Scriptures, maintained the truth. Ibid. 

§ Ibid., p. 117. 

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



204 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 every- 
where. Oh, if Christians possessed the holy Scriptures 
in their own tongue, they could of themselves with- 
stand these sophists. Without the Bible it is impossi- 
ble to establish the laity in the truth."* 

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 Testa- 
ment 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, Ray- 
mond of Penaford, Lyra, Gorram, Hugh de Sancto Vic- 
tore, and so many others besides. . . . Now each of these 
authors contradicts the other. How then can we distin- 
guish him who says right from him who says wrong ? . . . 
How ? . . . Verily, by God's word."f 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. 

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 in\ ited 
to Sodbury, nor did they meet with the same welcome.^ 
They soon discontinued their visits, and thought of noth 

• Impossible to establish the lay people in any truth, except the 
Scriptures were plainly laid before their eyes in their mother-tongue, 
Tynd. Doctr. Tr., p. 394. f I bid -> P- 149 - 

J Neither had they the cheer and countenance when they came, 
as before they had. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 116. 



THE PRIESTS IN THE ALEHOUSES. 205 



fng but how they could drive Tyndale from the mannion 
and from the diocese. 

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 secretin 
mulierum their habitual study, fell upon Tyndale like a 
pack of hungry hounds. They trooped to the alehouses,* 
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 here- 
tic," said another. The most skilful among them would 
mount upon a stool, and turning the tavern into a tem- 
ple, deliver, for the first time in his life, an extempora- 
neous discourse. They reported words that Tyndale had 
never uttered, and actions that he had never committed.^ 
Rushing upon the poor tutor, he himself informs us, 
"like unclean swine that follow their carnal lusts,"J 
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. 

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

The titular bishop of Worcester — an appanage of the 
Italian prelates — was Giulio de' Modici, a learned man, 
great politician, and crafty priest, who already governed 
the popedom without being pope.|| Wolsey, who admin- 

° Come together to the alehouse, which is their preaching 
place. Tynd. Doctr. Tr., p. 394. 

f They add too of their own heads what I never spake. Ib. , p. 395 
J Ibid. Expositions, p. 10. § Tynd. Doctr. Tt., p. 395 

|| Governava il papato e havia pin zente a la sua audienzia ehe 
il papa— He governed the popedom, and had more people at hib au 
dicnces than the pone. Relazion? di Marco Foscari, 1526, 



206 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

istered the diocese for his absent colleague, had appoint/- 
ed Thomas Parker chancellor, a man devoted to the Ro- 
man 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 pretend- 
ed heretic, and Sir Anthony Poyntz, Lady Walsh's broth 
cr, was sheriff of the county. The chancellor was there 
foie content to convoke a general conference of the cler- 
gy. Tyndale obeyed the summons, bat 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."* 

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 ex» 
asperated the chancellor, that, giving way to his passion, 
he treated Tyndale as if he had been a dog.f "Where 
are your witnesses V 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.J 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,! 
and entertaining nothing but the tenderest charity tow- 
ards 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 

• Foxe, Acts, 6, p. 116. 

f He threatened me grievously and reviled me, and rated me *$ 
though 1 had been a dog. Tynd. Doctr. Tr., p. 395. 

% And laid to my charge whereof there would be none accuser 
brought forth. Ibid. 

§ Escaping out of their hands. Foxe, Acts, 6, p. 116. 



AN OLD DOCTOB CONSOLES HIM 20T 



tie less."* Here indeed is the St. John to whom Tyn« 
dale has been compared. 

In this violent warfare, however, he could not fail to 
receive some heavy blows ; and where could he find con- 
solation ? Fryth and Bilney were far from him. Tyn- 
dale 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.f 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 y©u say 

That knowledge may cost you your life."J This doctrine 
of Antichrist, which Luther was at that moment enun- 
ciating 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. 

When the priests saw that their plot had failed, they 
commissioned a celebrated divine to undertake his con- 
version. 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."§ Tyn- 
dale, who did not expect so plain and blasphemous a con- 
fession, made answer, " And I defy the pope and all his 
laws f and then, as if unable to keep his secret, he added, 
" If God spares my life, I will take care that a ploughboy 
shall know more of the Scriptures than you do."|| 

All his thoughts were now directed to the means of 
carrying out his plans ; and desirous of avoiding con- 
versations that might compromise them, he thenceforth 
passed the greater portion of his time in the library.^" 

• Tynd. Doctr. Tr M p. 298. 

f For to him he durst be bold to disclose his heart. Foxe, Acts, 
6, p. 117. t !hid. § Ibid. 

li Cause a boy that driveth a plough to know more of the Scrifr 
ture than he did. Ibid. 

% This part of the house was standing in 1839, but has pincc been 
pulled down. Anderson, Bible Annals, 1, p. 37. We cannot but 



208 HISTOBY OF THE KEFOBMATION. 



He prayed, he read, he began his translation of the 
Lie, and in all probability communicated portions of it to 
Sir John and Lady Walsh. 

All his precautions were useless : the scholastic di- 
vine had betrayed him, and the priests had sworn to stop 
him in his translation of the Bible. One day he fell ia 
with a troop of monks and curates, who abused him in 
the grossest manner. " It 's the favor of the gentry ol 
the county 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, "pro- 
vided you will permit me to teach children and preach 
the gospel, and give me ten pounds a year for my sup- 
port.* ... I shall be satisfied." The priests left him, but 
with the intention of preparing him a very different fate. 

Tyndale indulged in his pleasant dreams no longer. 
He saw that he was on the point of being arrested, con- 
demned, 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 be- 
come 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. 

unite ht the wish expressed in that volume, that the remainder of 
the building, now tenanted by a farmer, may be carefully preserved. 

° Binding him to no more but to teach children and to preach 
Foxe, Acta, 5, p. 117. 



LUTHER'S WORKS IN ENGLAND. 209 



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 Thomas 
More — The book presented to the pope — Defender of the Fauh — 
Exultation of the king. 

While a plain minister was commencing the Refor- 
mation 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 be- 
fore the diet of Worms was a common subject of con- 
versation. Ships from the harbors of the Low Countries 
brought his books to London,* and the German printers 
had made answer to the nuncio Aleander, who was pro- 
hibiting 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 papa- 
cy 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.f 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 writ- 

• Burnet, Hist, of the Keformation, Lond. 1841, 8vo, 1, p. 21. 

+ Libros Lutheranos quorum magnus jam numerus perveuerat in 
mantis Anglorum. Polyd. Virg. Angl. Hist. Basil, 1570, tel., 
p. 664. 

H 



210 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATION* 



ings. 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. 

The papacy was not inactive in presence of all these 
efforts. The times of Gregory VII. and of Innocent III, 
it is true, were past ; and weakness and irresolution 
had succeeded to the former energy and activity of the 
Koman 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 indefatigable exertions had extorted a bull from 
the profane Leo X.,* and this bull had just reached Eng- 
land. The pope himself sent it to Henry, calling upon 
him to extirpate the Lutheran heresy, f The king hand- 
ed it to Wolsey, and the latter transmitted it to the 
bishops, who, after reading the heretic's books, met to- 
gether to discuss the matter.J 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 
- colors, was particularly violent. " This monk is a Pro- 
teus ... I mean an atheist.§ 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. || Had 
we not enough of the Wickliffites? — here are new 
legions of the same kind. . . . To-day Luther calls for 

9 See above, Book VI. chap. 4. 

f Ab hoc regno extirpandum et abolendum. Cardinal. Kbor 
Commissio. Strype, M. 1. 6, p. 22. 

J Habitoque super hac re diligenti tractatu. Ibid. 
§ Cum illo Protheo . . . imo Aiheo. Erasui. Ep. p 
( Pota ruet Ecclesia. Ibid. p. 1159. 



PUBLICATION OF THE PAPAL BULL. 211 



the abolition of the mass ; to-morrow he will ask for the 
abolition of Jesus Christ.* 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 
hellrdog, to silence his sinister howlings, and to drive 
him shamefully back into his den."f 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 of May, 1521, 
this English pope, in imitation of the Italian pope, issued 
his bull against Luther. 

It was read — probably on the first Sunday in June — 
in all the churches during high mass, when the congre- 
gation was most numerous.^ 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 docu- 
ment. § The people gathered round it ; the most compe- 
tent 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 cathe- 
dral, conventual, collegiate, and parish churches of every 
county in England. || 

" 11. Sins are not pardoned to any, unless, the priest 
remitting them, he believe they are remitted to him. 

° Nisi de abolendo Christo scribere destinavit Erasra. Bp 
p. 1160. 

f Gladio Spiritus abactum in antrum suum coges. Ibid. 
% Cum major convenerit multitude Ibid. 
§ In valvis seu locis publicis ecclesiae vestrae. Ibid. p. 24. 
| Strype M. I. p. 67. Oxf. e4. ; or Lutfcer, 17, p. 3Q& 



212 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



" 13. If by reason of some impossibility, the contriia 
be not confessed, or the priest absolve him, not in ear- 
nest, 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." 

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'n 
books.* 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 syllo- 
gism quite as sound: The popes have burnt the New 
Testament, therefore, if they could, they would burn 
Christ himself."f 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 herseii 
pushed behind the car. 

The cardinal saw that something more was required 

° See above, Book IX. chap. 10. 

f They would have burnt Christ himself. Tynd. Doctr. Tr.< 
Obodieuce, etc. Park. Soc. p. 221. 



HENKY WHITES A BOOK. 213 

than these paper autos-da-fe, 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.* 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 no 4 very anxious about learning ; a prince shall pub- 
lish 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 everywhere. If Luther does 
not repent, deliver him and his audacious treatises to 
the flames. I offer you my royal cooperation, and even, 
if necessary, my life."f 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. 

The king having taken the first step> it was not 
difficult for Wolsey to induce him to take another. To 
defend the honor 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,"J said he ; "and if he refuses to retract, 
the fire shall consume the heretic and his heresies to- 
gether.*^ 

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 

• Satanae spiritu actus. De Schism. Angl. p. 8. 
t Kapps Urk unden, 2, p. 458. 

% Veiut Cerberuni ex inferis producit in lucem. Eegis ad lecto 
lem, Epist. p. 94. 

§ Ut errores ejus eumque ipsum ignis exurat. Ibid. p. 95. 



214 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Thomas Aquinas ; forged with infinite labor the arrows 
with which he hoped to pierce the heretic; called sev- 
eral 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 serpen t," 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."* After that 
Henry sounded a charge. " Be of good cheer. Filled 
with the same valor that you would display against 
Turks, Saracens, and other infidels, march now against 
this little friar — a fellow apparently weak, but more for- 
midable through the spirit that animates him than all 
infidels, Saracens, and Turks put together."f Thus did 
Henry VIII., the Peter the Hermit of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, preach a crusade against Luther, in order to save 
the papacy. 

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 com- 
bat ; 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 heav- 
en — all from whom it proceeds must be accursed. Noth- 
ing 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 
favor of the papal supremacy. " I will not change a 

° Qui tan turn ideo lam bit ut mordeat. Assertio Sept. Sacram. 
f Sed animo Turds omnibus Sarracenis omnibus usquam infidel 
ibus nocentiorem fratercuium. Ibid. p. 147. 



DEFENDER OF THE FAITH. 215 



word," replied the king, full of servile devotion to the 
popedom. "Besides, I have my reasons," and he whis- 
pered 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."* 
Happily Britain was erelong 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.'f The 
pope, touched with this offer, gave him his foot, and then 
his cheek to kiss, and said to him, "1 will do for your 
master's book as much as the church has done for the 
works of St. Jerome and St. Augustine." 

The enfeebled papacy had neither the power of intel- 
ligence, 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 : splendor above, death and 
corruption below. The thunderbolts of a Hildebrand ceas- 
ing 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 honor those noble champi- 
ons," said the pope to his cardinals, " who show them- 
selves prepared to cut off with the sword the rotten 
members of Jesus Christ.J 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 
VII I was proclaimed Defender of the Faith. At the same 
time the pope promised ten years' indulgence to all read* 
rs of the ki rig'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 

• Fiddes' Life of Wolsey, p. 249. 

f Totius regiii sui viribus et arniis. Rymer, Fcedera, 6, p. 199 
X Putida membra . . . ferro et material] gladio absciudere. Ib 



216 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



and the book, of which many thousand copies were 
printed, filled the Christian world, Cochlseus tells us, 
with admiration and delight. 

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."* The 
king's fool entering the room just as his master had re« 
ceived 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"^ An entire modern sys- 
tem was found in those words. In the midst of the gen- 
eral intoxication, the fool was the only sensible person. 
But Henry could listen to nothing. Seated on an ele- 
vated throne, with the cardinal at his right hand, he 
caused the pope's letter to be read in public. The trum- 
pets 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 Bex 
Anglice et Francice, Defensor Fidei et Dominus Hiber* 
nice! 

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, 
for rum et materialem gladium, in which the papacy so 
rouch delighted. 



« Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 596. f Fuller, book 5, p. 168. 



WOLSEY DESIRES THE TIABA. 21t: 



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. 

One thing only was wanting to eheck more surely 
tbe progress of the gospel : Wolsey's accession to the 
pontifical throne. Consumed by the desire of reaching 
" tbe summit of sacerdotal unity,"* he formed, to attain 
this end, one of the most perfidious schemes ambition 
ever engendered. He thought with others, " The end 
justifies the means." 

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 in- 
clined 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 V.f Wolsey was therefore obliged to em- 
ploy 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 pleas- 
ed This argument prevailed with the king, who still 
possessed a spirit of gallantry. Lastly, Wolsey being 
named arbitrator between Charles and Francis, resolved 

° Unitatis sacerdotalis fastigium conscendere. Sanders, de 
Schism., Ang. 8. 

f Hys owne affayris doith not succede with th' Emperour. State 
Papers, vol. 1, p. 10. J Ibid., p. 12. 

Si**.©****., Vol. Y. 



218 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



to depart for Calais, apparently tc hear the complaint** 
of the two princes, but in reality to betray one of them 
Wolsey felt as much pleasure in such practices as Fran- 
cis in giving battle. 

The king of France rejected his arbitration : he had 
ft sharp eye, and his mother one still sharper. " Your 
master loves me not," said he to Charles' ambassador, 
1 and I do not love him any more, and am determined to 
te his enemy."* It was impossible to speak more plain- 
ly. Far from imitating this frankness, the politic Charles 
endeavored 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."f Francis, betrayed by 
Wolsey, abandoned by the pope, and threatened by the 
emperoi, determined at last to accept Henry's mediation. 

But Charles was now thinking of very different mat- 
ters. Instead of a mediation, he demanded of the king 
of England four thousand of his famous bowmen. Hen- 
ry 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 y " thus forbid- 
ding them to understand, and above all, to bruit abroad 
this strange request. It was agreed to raise the num- 
ber of archers to six thousand ; and the cardinal, having 
the tiara continually before his eyes, departed to per- 
form at Calais the odious comedy of a hypocritical arbi- 
tration. Being detained at Dover by contrary winds, 
the mediator took advantage of this delay to draw up a 
list of the six thousand archers and their captains, not 
forgetting to insert in it "certain obstinate deer," as 
Henry had said, "that must of necessity be hunted 
down."J These were some gentlemen whom the king 
desired to get rid of. 

• He was utterly determined to be his enemy. Cotton MSS., 
Galba, b. 7, p. 35. 

t Ut Wol8eus mortuo Leone decimo fieret summus pontifex. 

J Sayyinge that certayne hartes were so toggidde for hym, that 
be must neadys hunte them. State Papers, 1, p. 26. 



INTBIGT7ES OF WOLSEY. 



219 



While the ambassadors of the king of France were 
received at Calais on the 4th of August with great hon- 
ors by the lord high chamberlain of England, the cardi- 
nal signed a convention with Charles' ministers that 
Henry should withdraw his promise of the Princess 
Mary's hand to the dauphin and give her to the empe- 
or At the same time he issued orders to destroy the 
Fivnoh navy, and to invade France.* And finally, he 
procured, by way of compensating England for the pen- 
sion of sixteen thousand pounds hitherto received from 
the court of St. Germains, that the emperor should pay 
henceforward the annual sum of forty thousand marks. 
Without ready money the bargain would not have been 
a good one. 

This was not all. While Wolsey was waiting to be 
elected pope, he conceived the idea of becoming a sol- 
dier. A commander was wanted for the six thousand 
archers Henry was sending against the king of France ; 
and why should he not be the cardinal himself? He im- 
mediately 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,f to put myself at the 
nead of yours." What devotednessl 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 tia- 
ra — 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. 

• State Papers, 1, p. 23 

f Though I be a spiritual man. Ibid., p. 81. 



220 HISTOET OF THE KEFOKMATION. 



As Wolsey could not be general, he turned to di« 
plomacy. He hastened to Bruges ; and as he entered at 
the emperor's side, a voice was heard above the crowd, 
exclaiming, Salve, Bex regis tui atque regni sui* a sound 
most pleasing to his ears. People were very much as- 
tonished at Bruges by the intimacy existing between the 
cardinal and the emperor. " There is some mystery be* 
neath it all," they said.f 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. 

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 Tth 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 tern- 
pus erit opportunum, sequetur.'l The theologian who had 
corrected the famous Latin book of the king's against 
Luther most certainly had not revised this phrase. Ac- 
cording 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.' 7 § Wolsey traced out for him 
the road to his palace on the banks of the Seine : " Me- 

9 Hail, both king of thy king and also of his kingdom. TyncL 
Expos., p. 314. 

f There was a certain secret whereof all men knew not. Ibid., 
p 315. 

J If you go to prepare a place for the king in his hereditary king- 
dom, his majesty will follow you at a fitting season. S. Pap., 1, 36. 

§ Majora assequi quam omnes ipsius progenitores tot bellis et 
praeliis. Ibid., 1, 46. 



DEATH OP LEO X. 221 

zi&res is about to fall ; afterwards there is only Kheima, 
which is not a strong* city ; and thus your grace will 
very easily reach Paris."* 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. 

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 
anl turbulent, but honest in this matter at least, and 
confiding in the strength of his arms, had suddenly ap- 
peared between Ohambray and Valenciennes. The em- 
peror 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 vir- 
tuous mediation will greatly increase your reputation and 
honor throughout Christendom."f Francis rejected Wol- 
sey'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 return- 
ed satisfied to London about the middle of December. It 
was true that Henry's triumphant entry into Paris be- 
came very difficult ; but the cardinal was sure of the 
emperor's favor, 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 
bo many infamous transactions. 

* Your grace sjiall have but a leyve wey to Parys. State Papera, 
I, 46. t Cottou MSS. Cali§. D, 8, p. 8& 



222 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



CHAPTER VII. 

Fhe just men of Lincolnshire — Their assemblies and teaching — A%* 
nes and Morden — Itinerant libraries — Polemical conversations — 
Sarcasm — Royal decree and terror — Depositions and condemna- 
tions^ — Four Martyrs — A conclave — Charles consoles Wolsey. 

Wolsey did not stay until he was pope before perse- 
cuting the disciples of the word of God. Desirous of 
carrying out the stipulations of the convention at Bru- 
ges, 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 de- 
sires by the erection of a few scaffolds. 

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, laborers, artificers, and shepherds, 
who spent their days in toil, in keeping their flocks, in 
doing good, and in reading the Bible. 315 The more the gos- 
pel light increased in England, the greater was the in- 
crease in the number of these children of peace.f 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.J They appeared 
occasionally at church ; but instead of repeating their 
prayers like the rest, they sat, said their enemies, "mum 
like beasts."§ 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 

° Being simple laborers and artificers. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 240. 
f As the light of the gospel began more to apptar, and the 
numbers of professors to grow. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 217. 

% Did contract matrimony only with themselves. Ibid. p. 228 
§ Ibid. p. 22$. 



THE JUST MEN OF LINCOLNSHIRE, 223 

had learned by heart the epistle of St. James, the 
ginning of St. Luke's gospel, the sermon on the mount, 
or an epistle of St. PauPs, 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 anoth- 
er to put them in practice. But if any person joined 
their meetings who did not belong to their body, they 
would all keep silent.* Speaking much among each 
other, they were speechless before those from without • 
fear of the priests and of the fagot 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. Mar- 
riages are rarely celebrated with such pastimes as this. 

Although they were dumb before their 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.f 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 wom- 
an 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."J 

As books were rare, these pious Christians had es- 
tablished a kind of itinerant library, and one John Scriv 
ener was continually engaged in carrying the precious 
volumes from one to another.§ But at times, as he was 

° If any came in among them that were not of their side, then 
they would keep all silent. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 222. 

♦ Matt. 5:13-16. J Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 225. 

$ Carrying about books from one to another. Ibid. p. 224 



224 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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.* The 
bloodhounds arrived, sought and found nothing; and 
more than once those who so generously harbored these 
erangelists cruelly expiated the crime of charity. 

The disappointed officers had scarcely retired from 
the neighborhood 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 perse- 
cutions 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 pil- 
grimages," 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."f 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 ?"% " The clergy of the good old times," said 
the wife of David Lewis, " used to lead the people as a 
hen leadeth her chickens ;§ but now, if our priests lead 
their flocks anywhere, it is to the devil assuredly." 

Erelong there was a general panic throughout this 
district. The king's confessor John Longland was bish- 
op of Lincoln. This fanatic priest, Wolsey's creature, 
took advantage of his position to petitiou Henry for a 
severe persecution: this was the ordinary use in Eng- 
land, 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 uct 

° Hiding others in their barns. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 243. 
f Ibid. X Ibid » P- S 29 - § Ibid » P- & 



THE EOYAL DECREE. 225 

with, whose biting sarcasms went beyond all bounds. 
Wolsey and Longland knew how to employ these expres- 
sions 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. 1 Good morrow, 
neighbor/ 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/ "* Henry hesitated no longer. 

On the 20th of 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 her- 
etics. "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 !"f This cry was ree'choed from all 
the cottages of Lincolnshire. The bishop on his judg- 
ment-seat skilfully played upon these poor unhappy 
beings to make them accuse one another. Alas, accord- 
ing 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 bish( p and death terrified them : a small num- 
ber alone remained firm. As regards heroism, Wick- 
liffe's reformation brought but a feeble aid to the Refor- 
mation of the sixteenth century ; still, if it did not fur- 
nish many heroes, it prepared the English people to love 

• I thresh God Almighty out of the straw. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 
222. 

f Alas, now are you an undone man, and I but a dead woman 
Ibid. p. WL 



226 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

God's word above all things. Of these humble people, 
some were condemned to do penance in different monas- 
teries ; others to carry a fagot on their shoulders thrice 
round the market-place, and then to stand some time ex- 
posed to the jeers of the populace ; others were fastened 
to a post while the executioner branded them on the 
cheek with a redhot iron. They also had their martyrs. 
WicklifiVs 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 com- 
pelled to set fire to the pile that was to consume their fa- 
ther.* They stretched forth their trembling hands, held in 
the strong grasp of the executioners. Poor children I 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 
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 car- 
dinal sent Pace to Rome, instructing him to " represent 
to the cardinals that by choosing a partisan of Charles 
or Francis, they will incur the enmity of one or the other 
of these princes, and that if they elect some feeble Ital- 
ian priest, the apostolical see must become the prey of 
the strongest. Luther's revolt and the emperor's ambi- 
tion endanger the papacy. There is only one means of 
preventing the threatening dangers. ... It is to choose 
me. . . . Now, go and exert yourself."f The conclave 
opened at Rome on the 27 th of December, and Wolsey was 
proposed ; but the cardinals were not generally favora- 
ble to his election. " He is too yQung," 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 

« Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 245. 

t The sole way . . . was to chuse him. Herbert, p. 110* 



WOLSEY LOSES THE TIABA. 22? 



receive twenty votes. " The cardinals," wrote the Eng- 
lish ambassador, " snarled and quarrelled with each oth- 
er ; 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! 

During all this time Wolsey was in London, con- 
sumed by ambition, and counting the days and hours. 
At length a despatch from Ghent, dated the 22d of Jan- 
uary, reached him with these words : " On the 9th of Jan- 
uary, the cardinal of Tortosa was elected." . . . Wolsey 
was almost distracted. To gain Charles, he had sacri- 
ficed 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 endeavored to appease it. "The new pope," he 
wrote, "is old and sickly;* he cannot hold his office 
long. . . . Beg the cardinal of York for my sake to take 
great care of his health." 

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 Wol- 
sey and to submit to his decisions.^ The cardinal, grat- 
ified by such condescension, grew calm ; and at the same 
time he was soothed with the most flattering hopes. 
" Charles' 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.J 

• The new elect is both old, sickly ... so that he shall not have 
the office long. Cotton MSS. Galba, b. 7, p. 7. 

f Both princes appearing before the cardinal of York as judge. 
Art. 13. Herbert, p. 118. 

I Mortem etiam Adrian! expectat. Sanders, p. 8. 



228 EISTOBY OF THE BEFORMA.TIOH. 



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 — Im- 
portunities of the bishop of Lincoln — Persecution in London — 
Tyndale' s resolution — He departs — His indignation against the 
prelates — His hopes. 

While the cardinal was intriguing to attain his self- 
ish ends, Tyndale was humbly carrying out the great 
idea of giving the Scriptures of God to England. 

After bidding a sad farewell to the manor-house ot 
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 his 
sorrows. Tyndale, a man simple in his habits, sober, 
daring, and generous, fearing neither fatigue nor dan- 
ger, inflexible in his duty, anointed with the Spirit of 
God, overflowing with love for bis brethren, emanci- 
pated from human traditions, the servant of God alone, 
and loving naught but Jesus Christ, imaginative, quick 
at repartee, and of touching eloquence — such a man 
might have shone in the foremost ranks ; but he prefer- 
red 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 Cuth- 
bert Tonstall, who was more of a statesman and * 
scholar than oi a churchman, " the first of English men 
in Greek and Latin literature," said Erasmus. This eu- 
logy of the learned Dutchman occurred to Tyndale's 



TYNDALE ABRIVES IK LONDON, 22§ 



m&ftoty.* It was the Greek Testament of Erasmus 
that led me to Christ, said he to himself ; why should 
not the house of Erasmus* 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. 

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 hast 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."f 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. 

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 undurstard 
Scripture." " That is to say," replied Tyndale, " I must 
measure the yard by the cloth.% Look here," continued 
he, using a practical argument, " here are in your shop 
twenty pieces of stuff of different lengths. ... Do you 

° As I thus thought, the bishop of London came to my remem- 
brance. Tyndale, Doctr. Tr., p. 395. f Ibid., p. 79. 
i Ibid., p. 163. 



230 HISTOET OP THE BEFOKMATIOtf, 



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. 

Desirous of carrying out his project, Tyndale aspired 
to become the bishop's chaplain ;* 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 deter- 
mined to plead his cause through the elegant and har- 
monious 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 Ton- 
stall 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."f 

Tyndale's hopes now began to be realized. He wrote 
his letter in the best style, and then commending him- 
self to God, proceeded to the episcopal palace. He for- 
tunately knew one of the bishop's officers, William Heb- 
ilthwayte, 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 de- 
cide 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 hie- 

• He labored to be his chaplain. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 617. 
f He willed me to write an epistle to my lord, and to go to him 
myself. Ibid. 



INTEBYIEW WITH THE BISHOP. 231 



rarchy of England, and the latter was about to utter its 
yea or its nay. After a few moment's absence, Hebil- 
thwaite returned: "I am going to conduct you to his 
lordship." Tyndale fancied himself that he had attained 
his wishes. 

The bishop was too kind-hearted to refuse an audi- 
ence to a man who called upon him with the triple rec- 
ommendation 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 compro- 
mise him. Tyndale having made known his wishes, the 
bishop hastened to reply, " Alas, my house is full; I have 
now more people than I can employ."* Tyndale was dis- 
comfited 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 endeavored to walk with both. But when he had to 
choose between the two parties, clerical interests pre- 
vailed. There was no lack of bishops, priests, and lay- 
men about him, who intimidated him by their clamors. 
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 ecclesias- 
tical system which lavished on them such rich sinecures. 
They accepted the new ideas in theory, but not in prac- 
tice. '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 em 
ployment." This was all Tyndale could obtain. HebiJ 
thwayte waited on him to the door, and the Hellenist 
departed sad and desponding. 

His expectations were disappointed. Driven from the 

• My lord answered me, his house was full. Tyndale, Doctr, 
Tr., p. 396. 



232 HIS? Oft? OF TSS REFORMATION. 



banks of the Sevetti, Without a home in the capital, what 
would become of the translation of the Scriptures? 
11 Alas," he said, 14 1 was deceived,* . . . there is nothing 
to be looked for from the bishops. . . . Christ was smit 
ten on the cheek before the bishop, Paul was buffeted 
before the bishop,f . . . and a bishop has just turned me 
away." His dejection did not last long : there was an 
elastic principle in his soul. 44 1 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."! 

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 curios- 
ities, such as indulgences, a culpa et a poena. Ships laden 
with his manufactures every year quitted London for for- 
eign countries. He had formerly attended Colet's preach- 
ing at St. Paul's, and from the year 1515 he had known 
the word of God.§ 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 Jedus 
Christ, Monmouth had particularly striven to put on his 
character; he helped generously with his purse both 
priests and men of letters ; he gave forth 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 reg- 
ular guests at Monmouth's table was one of his poorest 
neighbors, a zealous Romanist, to whom his generous 

• I was beguiled, Tynclal 6 * Doctr. Tr., p. 395. 
f Expositions, p. 69. X Tyndale and Fryth's Works, 2, p. 349. 
§ The rich man began to be a Scripture man. Latimer's Ser* 
tnonn, p. 440, Park. Soc. 



A MOfl ASD A POOH MAN. 23g 



host often used to lend money. One day when the pious 
merchant was extolling Scripture and blaming popery, 
his neighbor 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 
Bhilling of him."* He next went to the bishop and laid 
an information against his benefactor. Monmouth for- 
gave him, and tried to bring him back ; but the neighbor 
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, 
" Neighbor, what wrong have I done you ?" and he con- 
tinued to speak to him with so much love, that the poor 
man fell on his knees, burst into tears, and begged his 
forgiveness.f Such was the spirit which, at the very 
outset, animated the work of the Reformation in Eng- 
gland : it was acceptable to God, and found favor with 
the people. 

Monmouth being edified by Tyndale's sermons, in- 
quired into his means of living. " I have none,"J 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 
every thing. " Come and live with me," said the wealthy 
merchant, " and there labor." God did to Tyndale ac- 
cording to his faith. Simple, frugal, devoted to work, he 
studied night and day ;§ and wishing to guard his mind 
against " being overcharged with surfeiting," he refused 
the delicacies of his patron's table, and would take noth- 
ing but sodden meat and small beer.|| It would even seem 
that he carried simplicity in dress almost too far.^f By 
his conversation and his works he shed over the house 

• Latimer's Works, 1, p. 441. He would borrow no [more] 
money of him. f Ibid. % Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 617. 

§ Strype, Records, 1, p. 664. 

|j He would eat but sodden meat and drink but small single beer, 
[bid. 

f He was never seen in that house to wear linen about him. Ib. 



234 HISTOKY OF THE REFOBMATION. 



of his patron the mild light of the Christian virtues, and 
Monmouth loved him more and more every day. 

Tyndale was advancing in his work when John Pryth, 
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 conver 
Rations together, " I will consecrate my life wholly to 
the church of Jesus Christ," said Fryth.* "To be a good 
man, you must give great part of yourself to your par- 
ents, 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," they said both.f " 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 every 
thing was succeeding to Tyndale's wishes, when it was 
interrupted by an unforeseen circumstance. 

Longland, the persecutor of the Lincolnshire Chris- 
tians, 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 magis- 
trates not to sell heretical books." " Wonderful 1" 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 

• Tyndale and Fryth's Works, 3, pp. 73., 74. 
f That the poor people might also read and see the simple plain 
word of God. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 118. 



TYKDALE'S FEARS. 



235 



ware to be very positive : whosoever persevered in his 
offence was to be pursued by the law ad ignem, even to 
the fire.* 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 pre* 
pare skilful men, such as are able to discuss the c( ntro- 
verted 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."f 
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 VIIUs con- 
fessor. That system is the natural development of Ro- 
manism. 

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, begaji 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 Chris- 
tians in London, used to meet and read portions of the 
Bible in English, and even asserted publicly that " Lu- 
ther had more learning in his little finger than all the 
doctors in England."! The bishop ordered these rebels 
to be arrested : he flattered and alarmed them, threaten- 
ing them with a cruel death, which he would hardly have 
inflicted on them, and by these skilful practices reduced 
them to silence. 

Tyndale, who witnessed this persecution, feared lest 
the stake should interrupt his labor. If those who read 
a few fragments of Scripture are threatened with death, 
what will he not have to endure who is translating the 

° Anderson's Annals of the Bible, 1, p. 42. 
t Ibid., pp. 42, 43. Herbert says, p. 147, 44 To suspend the laity 
betwtxt fear and controversies." J Foxe, Acts, 6, p* 17$ 



236 HISTORY Otf THE REFORMATION. 



whole f His friends entreated him to withdraw from tha 
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."* 

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.f " If he calls us to 
peace on the part of Jesus Christ, he calls us to war on 
the part of the world." 

There lay at that moment in the river Thames a ves- 
sel loading for Hamburg. Monmouth gave Tyndale ten 
pounds sterling for his voyage, and other friends con- 
tributed 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 Tes- 
tament 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 Eng- 
land. He was indignant, says the chronicler, against 
those coarse monks, covetous priests, and pompous prel- 
ates,! 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, brotheinoods, penances, soul- 

° Bat also that there was no place to do it in all England. 
I"ynd. Doctr. Tr., p. 396. 

f We be not called to a soft living. Ibid., p. 249. 

% Marking especially the demeanor of the preachers, and benold* 
tog the pomp of the prelates. Foxe, Acts, 6. p. 118. 



TYNDALE LEAVES ENGLAND. 237 



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.* 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.f 
Scourge of states, devastators of kingdoms, the priests 
take away not only the holy Scriptures, but also pros- 
perity 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."! 

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 coun- 
tries, 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.§ 
But the hour of the Lord is come, and nothing can hin- 
der 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 gos- 
pel to his countrymen. 

• Tyndale, Doctr. Tr., p. 238. Obedience of % Christian Man. 
t Ibid., p. 261. % Ibid., p. 191. § Ibid., p. 261. 



238 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Bilney at Cambridge — Conversions — The university cross-bearer — A 
Leicestershire farmer — A party of students — Superstitious prao 
tices — An obstinate papist — The sophists — Latimer attacks Staf- 
ford — Bilney* s resolution — Latimer hears Bilney' s confession — 
Confessor converted 1 — New life in Latimer — Bilney preaches 
grace — Nature of the ministry — Latimer's character and teach- 
ing — Works of charity — Three classes of adversaries — Clark and 
Dalaber. 

This ship did not bear away all the hopes of Eng- 
land. A society of Christians had been formed at Cam- 
bridge, 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 strik- 
ingly in contrast with his sickly appearance. He desir- 
ed to draw to the knowledge of God 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 ^earning 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 illustri- 
ous than either Stafford or Bilney. 

There was in Cambridge at that time a priest noto* 

• So was in his heart an incredible desire to allure many. Foxe, 
Ada, 6, p. 620. 



HUGH LATIMEB. 



239 



rious for his ardent fanaticism. In the processions, 
amid the pomp, prayers, and chanting of the train, none 
could fail to notice a mastei of arts, about thirty years 
of age, who with erect head carried proudly the univer- 
sity cross. Hugh Latimer, for such was his name, com- 
bined a biting humor with an impetuous disposition and 
indefatigable zeal, and was very quick in ridiculing the 
faults of his adversaries. There was more wit and rail- 
lery 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 fivescore sheep belong- 
ing to the farm, or driven home to his mother the thirty 
cows it was her business to milk.* In 1491, the Cor- 
nish rebels, under Lord Audley, having encamped at 
Blackheath, our farmer had donned his rusty armor, 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 
armor.f Fifty-two years afterwards he recalled this cir- 
cumstance to mind in a sermon preached before king 
Edward. His father's house was always open to the 
neighbors ; 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 understand- 
ing 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. 

° My mother milked thirty kine. Latimer's Sermons, Parker 
od p. 101. 

(• I can remember that 1 buckled his harness. Ibid. 



240 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

TLe 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, c me of the party 
exclaimed, Nil melius quam Icetari et facer e bene ! " There 
is nothing better than to be merry and to do well."* 
(i A vengeance on that bene," replied a monk of impudent 
mien ; " I wish it were beyond the sea ;f it mars all the 
rest." Young Latimer was much surprised at the re- 
mark. " 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." 

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 awk- 
wardly, 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 any thing of you."| 

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 favorite authors. The practical 
side of things, however, engaged him more than the 
speculative ; and he was more distinguished in Cam- 
bridge 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 

• Eocles. 3 : 12. 

f I would that bene had been banished beyond the sea. &ett- 
mer'a Sermons, p. 153. $ Ibid. p. 490. 



8TAFF0BD AND THE SOPHISTS. 241 

mjftcient water.* 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 a Becket at least as much as St. Paul. 
u I was then," said he, " as obstinate a papist as any in 
England.'*}* Luther said the same thing of himself. 

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 en- 
tered the room where these sophists were assemoled, and 
begged them to cease studying the Bible. All his en- 
treaties were useless. Can we be astonished at it? said 
Latimer to himself. Do n't we see even the tutors set- 
ting an example to these stray sheep ? There is Master 
Stafford, the most illustrious professor in English univer- 
sities, devoting his time ad Biblia, like Luther at Wit- 
temberg, and explaining the Scriptures according to the 
Hebrew and Greek texts, and the delighted students 
celebrate in bad verse the doctor, 

Qui Paulum explkuit rite et evangdium /J 

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 therelbre 
determined to attack Stafford. He insulted him ;§ he 
entreated the youth of Cambridge to abandon the pro- 
fessor and his heretical teaching ; he attended the hall 
in which the doctor taught, made signs of impatience 

• He thought he had never sufficiently mingled his massing 
wine with water. Foxe, Acts, 8, p. 433. f Ibid - P- 834 - 

% Who has explained to us the true sense of St. Paul and of the 
goepel. Strype's Mem. 1, p. 74. 

§ Most spitefully railing against him. Foxe, Acts, 8, p. 487« 

Bfet. or B«r., vol. v. J 5 



242 HISTOBY OP THE BEFOBMATION. 



during the lesson, and cavilled at it after leaving the 
school. He even preached in public against the learaed 
doctor. But it seemed to him that Cambridge and Eng- 
land 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. 

Latimer desired to show himself worthy of such an 
honor. 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 sub- 
ject 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 
colors are imparted to the polypus which clings to them,* 
so the doctors of the church give each their own opinion 
in the passages they explain ? And finally, had he not 
discovered a new touchstone — it is thus he styles the 
holy Scripture — by which we must test the sentences 
even of St. Thomas ? 

Latimer's discourse made a great impression. At 
last, said his hearers, England, nay, Cambridge, will fur- 
nish 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 inter- 
ested 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 

• Ut polypus cuiciinque petrae adh&seret, ejus coiorem imitator 
Corp. Bel 1, p. 114. 



bilney's confession. 



243 



" a trier of Satan's subtleties, appointed by God to 
detect the bad money that the enemy was circulating 
throughout the church/' * Bilney easily detected Lati- 
mer'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 aston- 
ishing conversions recorded in history. 

He went to the college where Latimer resided. u For 
the love of God," he said to him, " be pleased to hear 
my confession." f The heretic prayed to make confes- 
sion 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 lat- 
ter, 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 unprofit- 
ableness 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 sim- 

* Foxe, Acts, 7, p. 438. 

t He came to me afterwards in my study, and desired me for 
God's sake to hear his confession. Jjatimer's Sermons, p. 334. 



244 HISTOBT OP THE REFORMATION. 



pie and so lively, entered like a two-edged sword. Bil- 
ney was not without assistance in his work. A new, a 
strange witness — the Holy Ghost* — 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 conver- 
sion, like the apostle's, was instantaneous. He stam- 
mered 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.f ... I now 
tasted the word of God,| and forsook the doctors of the 
school and all their fooleries."§ 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 scarlec, 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. 

Latimer was changed. The energy of his character 
was tempered by a divine unction. Becoming a believ- 
er, he had ceased to be superstitious. Instead of perse- 
cuting Jesus Christ, he became a zealous seeker after 
him, |j Instead of cavilling and railing, he showed him- 

• Ho was through the good Spirit of God so touched. Foxo, 8, 
p. 438. 

f Latimer's Sermons, p. 334. 

j From that time forward I began to smell the word of God. Ib. 
§ Ibid. p. 335. 

|| Whereas before he was an enemy and almost a persecutor of 
Christ, he was now a jealous seeker after him. Foxe, Arta ? 7, p. 

m. 



BILNEY PBEACHES GBACE. 



245 



self meek and gentle ;* instead of frequenting company, 
ne sought solitude, studying the Scriptures and advanc- 
ing in true theology. He threw off the old man and put 
on the new. He waited upon Stafford, begged forgive- 
ness for the insult he had offered him, and then regularly 
attended his lectures, being subjugated more by thie 
doctor's angelic conversation than by his learning.f Bui 
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." J 

So striking a conversion gave fresh vigor to the 
evangelical movement. Hitherto Bilney and Latimer 
had been the most zealous champions of the two oppo- 
wite causes ; the one despised, the other honored : 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 apos- 
tles, struck men's minds ; and was it not in truth a mir- 
acle ? All the youth of the university ran to hear Bilney 
preach. He proclaimed "Jesus Christ as he who, hav- 
ing tasted death, has delivered his people from the pen- 
alty of sin."§ 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 empha- 
sized 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' 7 to use an 
expression of Bilney's ; "like Malchus, having their right 
ear cut off f and they filled the university with their 
complaints. 

But Bilney did not allow himself to be stopped. The 
• Foxe, Acts, 7, p. 338. 

t A man of a very perfect life and angelic conversation. Be* 
oon's Works, Parker Soc, p. 425. % Foxe, 8, p. 452. 

§ Christus quern pro virili doceo . . . denique et sat isf actionem, 
p. ad Tonstallum episcop. Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 633. 



246 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



idea of eternity had seized on his mind, and perhaps he 
still retained some feeble relic of the exaggerations of 
asceticism. He condemned every kind of recreation, 
even when innocent. Music in the churches seemed to 
him a mockery of God ;* 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. 

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 priests, 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 media 
tion, but from the necessity of a regular preaching oi 
the gospel and a steady direction of the flock ; and ac- 
cordingly he would have wished to call the servant of 
the Lord minister, {brnipznis or dcaicovoc rov Tubyov,) and not 
priest^ (lepevc 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 con- 
sidered 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."J 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 



• Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 621. 

f Minister is a more fit name for that office. Latimer's Remains* 
p. 26*. % Ibid - P- 2*- 



LATIMER'S PREACHING. 247 

he went to battle : Without the help of God I am able 
to fight, and I will get the victory with mine own 
strength."* 

The Reformation had gained in Latimer a very differ* 
ent man from Bilney. He had not so much discernment 
and prudence perhaps, but he had more energy and 3J0 
quence. What Tyndale was to be for England by Int 
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 a historian, "who, in the 
days of king Henry VIII., set himself to preach the gos- 
pel in the truth and simplicity of it."f 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.J The same zeal which he had employed in say- 
ing mass, he now employed in preaching the true sacri- 
fice of Christ. He said one day, "If one man had com- 
mitted 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 suffer- 
ed. .. . 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 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 labored by all 
means that he might frustrate the death of Christ and 
the merits of his passion."§ 

• Latimer's Sermons, p. 491. Sophocles, Ajax, 783, et seq. 

f Strype's Mem. 3, part 1, p. 378. 

% Flying to him by an evangelical faith. Ibid. 

I Latimer's Sermons, p. 74. 



248 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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"* 

To the inward power of faith the Cambridge e^ ange» 
lists 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, dis- 
played at that time all the energy of charity. These two 
friends devoted themselves not merely to the easy labors 
of Christian beneficence, but caring little for that for- 
mal Christianity so often met with among the easy class- 
es, they explored the gloomy cells of the madhouse to 
bear the sweet and subtle voice of the gospel to the in- 
furiate 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, f 
The gates of the jail at Cambridge were opened to them, j 
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. § Latimer, after- 
wards bishop of Worcester, was one of the most beauti- 
ful types of the Reformation in England. 

He was opposed by numerous adversaries. In the 
front rank were the priests, who spared no endeavors to 
retain souls. " Beware," said Latimer to the new con- 

° This was said by Ralph Morice, afterwards Cranmer's secre* 
fcary. Strype, Eccl. Mem. 3, part 1, p. 368. 

f Preaching at the lazar-cots, wrapping them in sheets. Foxe, 
Acts, 4, p. 620. Lond. 1846. 

% Latimer's Sermons, p. 335, Park. Soc. 

§ She had such a savor, such a sweetness and feeling, that she 
thought it long to the day of execution. Ibid. p. 180. 



LIGHT IN OXFORD. 



849 



verts, "ieefc robbers overtake you, and plunge you into 
Che pope's prison of purgatory.' 7 * After these came the 
sons and favorites of the aristocracy, worldly and frivo- 
lous students, who felt little disposition to listen to the 
gospel. "By yeoman's sons the faith of Christ is and 
hath been chiefly maintained in the church, "f said Lati- 
mer, "Is this realm taught by rich men's sons ? No ; 
no ; read the chronicles ; ye shall find sometime noble- 
men 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 fashion- 
able men, but the ablest and most pious. This impor- 
tant 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 brutal- 
ity"% In this manner the Reformation restored to Cam- 
bridge gravity and knowledge, along with truth and 
charity. 

Yet Bilney and Latimer often turned their eyes tow- 
ards Oxford, and wondered how the light would be able 
to penetrate there. Wolsey provided for that. A Cam- 
bridge 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 everywhere 
for distinguished scholars to adorn his new college, in- 
vited Clark among the first. This doctor, desirous of 
bearing to Oxford the light which God had given Cam- 
bridge, immediately began to deliver a course of divin- 
ity lectures, to hold conferences, and to preach in his 
eloquent manner. He taught every day.§ Among the 

° Strype's Eccles. Memorials, 3, part 1, p. 378. 

f Latimer's Sermons, p. 102. % Ibid. p. 269. 

§ Teach or preach, which he did daily. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 426. 



250 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



graduates and students who followed him was Anthcmy 
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 
in.parted to him, he went to the cardinal's college, knock- 
ed at Clark's door, and said, " Father, allow me never tc 
qu't you more." The teacher, beholding the young dis- 
ciples enthusiasm, loved him, but thought it his duty tc 
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." 

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,* ex- 
claimed, "For the tender mercy of God, turn me not 
away 1" 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 con- 
ferences, 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 know- 
ledge of Scripture." 

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, be- 
holding their most pious scholars escaping one aftei 
another from their teaching, called the bishops to their 
aid, and the latter detei mined to send agents to Cam- 

• Foxe. Acts, 6, p. 426. 



PEKSECUTION SUSPENDED. 251 



bridge, 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 Lat- 
imer 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.* Certain 
events were taking place at Rome of a nature to exer- 
cise great influence over the priestly councils, and which 
may perhaps explain what Burnet could not understand 



• History of the Reformation, 1, p. 25. Lond. 1841. 



262 HISTOBI OP THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER X. 

Wolsey geeks the tiara— Clement VII. is elected — Wolsey' s iissim 
ulatior —Charles offers France to Henry — Pace's mission on thie 
subject —Wolsey reforms the convents — His secret alliances — 
Treaty between France and England — Taxation and insurrection 
— False charges against the reformers — Latimer's defence — Ten- 
terden steeple. 

Adrian VI. died on the 14th of September, 1523, be- 
fore the end of the second year of his pontificate. Wol- 
sey thought himself pope. At length he would no lon- 
ger be the favorite 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 fu- 
ture pope dreamed 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 to 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 V. 

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, 
u 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 elec- 
tion could not take place without his support. " Rather 
than yield," said he in the conclave, " I would die in thifl 



ELECTION OF CLEMENT VII. 853 



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 be 
sieged : 

Into their midst, by many a secret path, 
Creeps sly intrigue.** 

At length, on the 19th of November, 1523, the peo- 
ple collected under their windows, shouting, "No for- 
eign pope." After forty-nine days' debating, Julio was 
elected, and according to his own expression. " bent his 
head beneath the yoke of apostolic servitude/ f He took 
the name of Clement VII. 

Wolsey was exasperated. It was in vain that he pre- 
sented 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 speak- 
ing, have tightened the cords which already bound Eng- 
land so closely to Rome ; but Wolsey, rejected, could hard- 
ly 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, J 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 good- 
ness to provide such a pastor unto his church as his 
grace and I have long inwardly desired ; who f * his 

° Un conclave, by C. Delavigne. 

f Colla subjecimus jugo apostolicee servitutis. Rymer, Fcedera, 
6, 2, p 7. 

J I take God to witness, I am more joyous thereof than if it had 
fortuned upon my person Wolsey to Henry VIII. Burnet, Be<^ 
Ojrifl, p. 328, Lond., 1841 



264 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



virtue, wisdom, and other high and notable qualities, we 
have always reputed the most able and worthy persou to 
be called to that dignity."* 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 en. menc€ 
in person." Clement moreover conferred on him the qaal 
ty of legate for life, an office which had hitherto beeD 
temporary only. Thus the popedom and England em- 
braced 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. 

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 fel- 
low-countrymen merely to please his rival ; and besides, 
like several popes, he had a certain fondness for learn- 
ing. 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 indepen- 
dence. 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 rea- 
son 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. 

Charles discovered the indignation that lay hid under 
Wolsey's apparent mildness, and wishing to retain Hen* 
ry'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 compen- 
sation. "You are king of France," the emperor said, 
" and I undertake to win your kingdom for you.f Only 

• Wolsey to Secretary Pace. Gait's Wolsey, p. 381, Appendix, 
Uwl., i&45. f otters, Second Series, pp 326. #87. 



* 



FACE'S EMBASSY. 



266 



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 empe- 
rors views. The king indeed seemed to think of noth- 
ing 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 commis- 
sion ; 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 of July he entered the mountains, traversed 
precipitous passes, sometimes climbing them on all- 
fours,* 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 deep- 
ness 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 
if he is not master of Paris before All-Saints ; and when 
Paris is taken, he will be master of the whole kingdom." f 
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, for- 
got himself, and in a moment of vexation wrote to Wol- 
sey, "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 

• It made us creep of all-four. Pace to the king, Strype, vol. 1, 
part 2, p. 27. f Cotton MSS,, Viteljius, b. 6, p. 87. 



266 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 be- 
fore Wolsey was able to satisfy himself that the service 
Charles had desired to render the king of England was 
beyond the emperor's strength. 

No sooner at ease on one side, than Wolsey found 
himself attacked on another. This man, the most pow- 
erful among kings' favorites, felt at this time the first 
breath of disfavor 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 monaster- 
ies to a strict inquisition, patronized the instruction of 
youth, and was the first to set a great example, by sup- 
pressing certain religious houses, whose revenues he 
applied to his college in Oxford. Thomas Cromwell his 
solicitor displayed much skill and industry in this busi- 
ness,* 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 lat- 
ter 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 humor, 
resolved, for the first time, not to spare his minister: 
u 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 malver- 
sations.'^ " 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 

• Very forward and industrious. Foxe, Acts, £, p. 86ft, 
f OoUier's Eccles. Hist., 10, p. 2Q. 



BATTLE OF PAVIA. 



257 



ais will he left all his property to the king, Henry was 
satisfied ; he had a share in the business. 

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 Pa via. 
Wolsey, who openly gave his right hand to Charles V. 3 
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?"* "Thus," added the cardinal, "whatever hap- 
pens, your highness will have great cause to give thanks 
to Almighty God." 

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 mili- 
tary chest and in the pockets of his soldiers the cardi- 
nal's corrupting gold. This alliance had been contrived 
by Giovanni Gioacchino, a Genoese master of the house- 
hold to Louisa regent of France, who passed for a mer- 
chant of Bologna, and lived in concealment at Black- 
friars. 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 utter- 
ance 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 ;f 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 indi- 

• By such communications as he set forth with France apart. 
State Papers, 1, p. 158. 

t Milady Margaret was a riband. Cotton MSS. Vesn C, 8, 



258 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



viduals. Charles is aiming at universal monarchy ; Pa- 
via is the first step of this throne, a*id if England does 
not oppose him, he will attain it." Joachim having come 
privily to London, Wolsey prevailed upon Henry to con- 
clude between England and France an " indissoluble peace 
by land and sea."* 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. 

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, de- 
termined 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 inclina- 
tion." England did not think so ; this illegal demand 
aroused universal complaint. " We are English and not 
French, freemen and not slaves,"f was the universal cry. 
Henry might tyrannize over his court, but not lay hands 
on his subjects' property. 

The eastern counties rose in insurrection : four thou- 
sand 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. | 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 gos- 
pellers, who, said they, were stirring up a peasant war 
in England, as they had done in Germany. Reformation 
produces revolution : this is the favorite text of the fol- 

° Sincera, fidelis, firma et indissolubilis pax. Rymer, Fcedera, 
pp 82, 33. 

f If men should give their goods by a commission, then were it 
worse than the taxes of France ; and so England would be bend, and 
not free. Hall's Chronicle, p. 696. 

t Hall's Chronicle, p. 696. 



TENTEBDEN STEEPLE. 



259 



towers of the pope. Violent hands must be laid upon 
the heretics. Non pluit Deus, due ad christianos* 

The charge of the priests was absurd ; but the peo- 
ple are blind whenever the gospel is concerned, and oc- 
casionally the governors are blind also. Serious reason- 
ing 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 experi- 
ence, 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 a 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, Lere 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."f 

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 
yoar 1525, memorable for the battle of Pavia, was des- 
tined to be no less so in the British isles by a still mora 
important victory. 

0 " God sends no rain ; . • . lead us against the Christiana'' A 
cry ascribed by Augustine to the pagans of the first ages, 
f lAtimer's Sermons, vol. 1, p. 251. 



260 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Tyndale at Hamburg — First two gospels — Embarrassment — Tyndale 
at Wittemberg — At Cologne — The New Testament at press — Sud- 
den interruption — Coehlaeus at Cologne — Rupert's manuscripts- 
Discovery of Cochlaeus — His inquiries — His alarm — Rincke and 
the senate's prohibition — Consternation and decision of Tyndale 
— Cochlaeus writes to England — Tyndale ascends the Rhine — 
Prints two editions at Worms — Tyndale' s prayer. 

The ship which carried Tyndale and his manuscripts 
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,"* 
aided bim 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 al- 
ways 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 labors : he accepted Roye's aid. 
The gospels of Matthew and Mark, translated and print- 
ed at Hamburg, became, it would seem, the first fruits 
to England of his great task. 

• Tyndale's Doctr. Treatises, p. 87. 



TYNDALB AND LUTHER. 



261 



But Tyndale was soon overwhelmed by annoyances. 
Roye, who was pretty manageable while he had no mon- 
ey, had become intractable now that his purse was less 
empty.* 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. 

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 immedi- 
ately. 

Where should he go ? Not to England ; he must 
complete his task before all things. Could he be in Lu- 
ther's neighborhood 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 evan- 
gelical 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,f 
either in the university registers or in the writings of 
the Saxon reformers. Yet several contemporaneous tes- 
timonies 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."! 
This must have been in the spring of 1525. 

9 Anderson's Annals of the Bible, 1, 49. 

f 1 requested a German divine to investigate this matter, 2ml 
his researches were unsuccessful. 

% Mr. Anderson, in his excellent work, Annals of the English 
Bible, vol. 1, p. 47, disputes the interview between these two re- 
formers, but his arguments do not convince me. We can under- 
stand how Luther, at that time busily engaged in his dispute with 



262 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Tyndale, desirous 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 church- 
yard in London, a circumstance that might facilitate the 
introduction and sale of the Testament printed on the 
banks of the Rhine. This providential circumstance de- 
cided Ty ndale in favor of Cologne, and thither he repaired 
with Roye and his manuscripts. Arrived in the gloomy 
streets of the city of Agrippina, he contemplated its in- 
numerable churches, and above all, its ancient cathedral 
reechoing to the voice 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 Tyn- 
dale asked himself whether it was really in this super- 
stitious 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 dur- 
ing the feast of Whitsuntide, and the archbishop had 
just forbidden all evangelical worship. Yet Tyndale 
persevered, and submitting to the most minute precau- 
tions, 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 print- 
er, presented his manuscripts to him, ordered six thou- 
sand copies, and then, upon reflection, sunk down to 

Carlstadt, does not mention Tyndale' s visit in his letters. But be- 
sides Foxe, there are other contemporaneous authorities in favor of 
this fact. Cochkeus, 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 apostatae, qui aliquamdiu 
intrant Vuuenbergaz," p. 123. And Sir Thomas More, having said 
that Tyndale had gone to see Luther, Tyndale was content to reply, 
44 When Mr. More saith Tyndale was confederate with Luther, that 
is not truth." Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p.. 147, 
Park. Soc. He denied the confederation, but not the visit. If Tyn- 
dale had not seen Luther, he would have been more explicit, and 
would probably have said that he had never even met him. 



COCHLJEUS AT COLOGNE. 263 

three thousand for fear of a seizure.* The printing went 
on ; one sheet followed another ; gradually the gospel 
unfolded its mysteries in the English tongue, and Tyn« 
dale could not contain himself for very joy.f 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, erelong all the people of Eng- 
land, enlightened by the New Testament, will obey the 
gospel."| 

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 inform- 
ed him that the senate of Cologne forbade him to con- 
tinue 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 Tyndaie'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 unex- 
pected incident. 

A man whom we have often met with in the course 
of this history,^ one of the most violent enemies of the 
Reformation — we mean Cochlaeus — had arrived in Co- 
logne. 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. 

0 Sex millia sub praelum dari. Cochlaeus, p. 123. 
f Tanta ex ea spe lajtitia Lutheranos invasit. Ibid., p. 124. 
% Cunctos Angliae populos, volente nolente rege. Hid., p. 128 
5 Book 9, chapter 12, etc. 



964 HISTOfct Of THE BEf ORMATION. 



By a singular destiny the two most opposite men, 

Tyndale and Cochlaeus, were in hiding in the same city ; . 
they could not long remain there without coming into 
collision 

On the right bank of the Rhine, and opposite Cologne, 
stood the monastery of Deutz, one of whose abbots, Ru- 
pert, 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* 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 Cochlaeus 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 doc- 
tor. Cochlaeus guessed that Osiander was desirous of 
bringing forward the contemporary of St. 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, stipu- 
lating for an early publication, from which they expected 
no little renown.f Cochlaeus immediately went to Peter 
Quentel and Arnold Byrckman to make the necessary 
arrangements. They were Tyndale's printers. 

There Cochlaeus made a more important discovery 
than that of Rupert's manuscripts. Byrckman and Quen- 
tel 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 Coch* 
lceusj— " Whether the king and the cardinal of York wish 
it or not, all England will soon be Lutheran."§ Coch- 

° Scripturse populorum. Opp. , 1, p. 641. 
t Cum monachi quieturi non erant, nisi ederentur opera ilia. 
Oochl., p. 124. 

% Audivit eoB aliquando inter pocula fiducialiter jactitare. Ibid, 
p. 125. 

§ Velint nolint rex et cardinalis Angliaa, to tarn Angliam brevi 
fore Lutheranam. Ibid. 



THE S SECRET BETBAYED. 



285 



IflBtie listened and grew alarmed ; he made inquiry, and 
was informed that two Englishmen, learned men and 
skilled in the languages, were concealed at Cologne.* 
But all his efforts to discover more proved unavailing. 

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,f 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 V Cochlseus con- 
tinued his search ; he paid frequent visits to the print- 
ers, 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 suffi- 
cient 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, J 
and supplied him plentifully with Rhine wine : he him- 
self is our informant.! Artful questions embarrassed 
the unwary printer, and at last the secret was disclosed. 
" The New Testament," Cochlaeus learned, " 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 car- 
dinal can discover or prohibit it.|| .... Thus will Britr 
ain be converted to the opinions of Luther."^ 

9 Duos ibi latitare Anglos eruditos, lingnarumque peritos. Coch- 
taeus, p. 125. 

f In gente ilia religiosissima vereque Christiana. Ib., p. 131. 
X Unus eorum in secretion colloquio revelayit ilH arcanum. Ib. 
§ Rem omnem ut acceperat vini beneficio. Ibid. 
H Opus excussum clam invecturi per totam Augliam latent©! d!s« 
pergere vellent. Ibid. 

% Ad Lutheri partes trahenda est Anglia. Ibid- 

Hi*. afBrt. Y«L V. 



268 HISTORY OF TfiE EEFOBMATION. 



The surprise of Cochlseus equalled his alarm ;* ho 
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 
&n exile, what can he do to oppose this impious under- 
taking? Where shall he find a friend to England pre- 
pared to show his zeal in warding off the threatened 
blow ? He was bewildered. 

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 im- 
portant business by the Emperor Maximilian to Henry 
VII., and from that time he had always shown a great 
attachment to England. Cochlams 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 
himselff — slipped in secretly, and unfolded the whole 
matter to him. Rincke could not believe that the New 
Testament in English was printing at Cologne ; howev- 
er, he sent a confidential person to make inquiries, who 
reported to him that Cochlseus' information was correct, 
and that he had found in the printing-office a large sup- 
ply of paper intended for the edition.^ The patrician 
immediately proceeded to the senate, and spoke of Wol- 
sey, of Henry VIII., and of the preservation of the Rom- 
ish 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 
woik. 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 perLaps be 
thrown into prison, and Cochlseus enjoy a complete triumph 

• Metu et admiratione affectus. Cochlseus, p. 181. 

f Abiit igitur clam ad H. Rincke. Ibid. 

% Ingextfeis. papyri &&am ibi existere. Ibid. 



TYNDALE HIS WORK, 26? 



Tyndale was at first confounded. Were so many 
years of toil lost then for ever ? His trial seemed be- 
yond his strength.* " 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 
hopo in their merits and confidence in their good works."f 
Yet Tyndale did not remain long 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, has- 
tened to the printing-office, collected the sheets, jumped 
into a boat, and rapidly ascended the river, carrying 
with him the hope of England.^ 

When Cochlasus and Rincke, accompanied by the offi- 
cers 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 
Cochlaeus 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 reach- 
ing 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 Morcte- 
cai,§ will lay open their designs to you. They wish to 
send the New Testament in English to your people 

° Necessity and combraiice (God is record) above strength, Tynd. 
Doctr. Tr., p. 390. 

f Tyndale, Expositions, p. 123, Parker Society. 

J Arreptis secum quaternionibus impressis aurugerunt n&rigio 
per Rhenum ascendentes. Cochl., p. 126. 

§ He was indebted to me no less than Ahasuerus was indebted 
to Mordecai. Annals of the Bible, 1, p. 61. 



268 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Give orders at every seaport to prevent the introduction 
of this most baneful merchandise."* 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 Cochlasus. 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.f The 
eyes of the greatest opponents of the Eeformation seem- 
ed 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. 

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 vil- 
lages scattered along the banks of the Rhine amidst 
scenes of picturesque beauty. The mountains, glens 
and rocks, the jdark 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 Cochlseus — 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. ,7 J 
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 Lutheran! sm," 
said Cochlseus.§ Tyndale arrived there, not as Luther 
did, surrounded by an immense crowd, but unknown, 
and imagining himself pursued by the myrmidons ot 
Charles and of Henry. As he landed from the boat he 

° Ut quam diligentissime praecaverint in omnibus Anglic por- 
tabus, ne merx ilia perniciosissima inveheretur. Cochl., p. 120. 

f Ad quern Doctor Eckius venit, dum in Angliam tenderet. lb., 
p, 109. % See above, book 7, chap. 8. 

§ Ascendentes Wormatiam ubi plebs pleno furore lutherisabafe 
Cochl p. 126. 



TYNDALE'8 PRAYEB. 



263 



cast an uneasy glance around him, and laid down his 
precious burden on the bank of the river. 

He had had time to reflect on the dangers which 
threatened his w ork. As his enemies would have mark- 
ed 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 Schceffer, the grandson of 
Faust 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.* 

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. 41 Give 
diligence," said Tyodale to his fellow-countrymen, as he 
sent from Worms the Testament he had just translated, 
" imto the words of eternal life, by the which, if we re- 
pent and believe them, we are born anew, created afresh, 
ard enjoy the fruits of the blood of Chris t."f 1^ the be- 
ginning of 1526, these books crossed the sea by way of 
A ntwerp or Rotterdam. Tyndale was happy ; but he 
knew that the unction of the Holy Ghost alone could en- 
able 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.J Now, 0 God, draw this 
sharp sword from the scabbard. Strike, wound, cut asun- 
der 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." 

• A copy of the octavo edition exists in the museum of the Bap- 
tist 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, prqphettes, synners, mooste, sekynge; in the octavo we find, 
prophtis, sinners, most, seizing. Annals of the Bible, 1, p. 70. 

f Epist. in init. 

% Tyndale's Works, 2, p. 378; or Expositions, (Matthew,) p. 
181, Park. Soc 

L 



270 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Wanns and Cambridge — St. Paul resuscitated — Latimer's preaching 
Never man spake like this man" — Joy and vexation at Cam- 
"bridge — Sermon by prior Buckingham — Irony — Latimer's reply 
to Buckingham — ihe students threatened— Latimer preaches 
before the bishop — He is forbidden to preach — The most zealouf 
of bishops— Barnes the restorer of letters — Bilney undertakes fcc 
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. 

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 wit- 
nesses of the truth — Bilney did not at that time put him- 
self 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 call- 
ed 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 mean- 
ing of the words of the apostle and of the four evange- 
lists,* that these holy men, whose faces had been so 
long hidden under the dense traditions of the schools,f 
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 

° He set forth in his lectures the native sense. Thomas Recoil, 
*, p. 426. 

f Obscured through the darkness and mists of the papists. Ibid. 



LATIMEB'8 PREACHING 



271 



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, Staf- 
ford 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 in* 
dulging a little too far in their enthusiasm, said to one 
another as they left the lecture-room, "Whi ;h is the 
most indebted to the other? Stafford to Paul who left 
him the holy epistles ; or Paul to Stafford, who has re- 
suscitated that apostle and his holy doctrines, which the 
middle ages had obscured ?" 

Above Bilney and Stafford rose Latimer, who, by the 
power of the Holy Ghost, transfused into other hearts 
the learned lessons of his Master.* 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.f " The author of holy Scrip- 
ture," said he, " is the Mighty One, the Everlasting — 
God himself I . . . 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. \t does not concern us what the 
fathers have done; but what they should have done."J 

A numerous congregation crowded to Latimer's 
preaching, and his hearers hung listening to his lips. 

° A private instructor to the rest of his brethren within the uni- 
versity. Foxe, Acts, 7, p. 438. 

f He proved in his sermons that the holy Scriptures ought to be 
read in the English tongue of all Christian people. Becon, vol. 2, 
p. 424, Park. Soc. 

X We find his opinions upon that subject in a later sermon. 
Latimer'* Sermons, pp. 96, 97, Park. Soc. 



272 



HI3T0BY OF THE REFORMATION. 



One in particular attracted attention. He was a Nor* 
folk 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 oi his 
sermons ; with a i&ieet of paper on his knees, and a pen* 
cil ia his hand, he took down part of the discourse, truat- 
mg the remainder to his memory.* This was Thomas 
Becon, afterwards chaplain to Cranmer, archbishop oi 
Canterbury. " If I possess the knowledge of God," said 
he, " I owe it under God to Latimer." 

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 JEsop's 
frog, with envy and malice against him," said Becon ;f 
these were the partisans 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 de- 
grees 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 sur- 
prise and rapture, " Nunquam sic locutus est homo, sicut 
hie homo I" John *I : 46. 

When he descended from the pulpit, Latimer hasten- 
ed to practise what he had taught. He visited the nar- 
row 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,"J 
said the student who collected his discourses. The dis- 
ciples 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, 

• A poor scholar of Cambridge . . . but a child of sixteen year* 
Becon's Works, 2, p. 424. f Ibid. p. 425. 

t Becon's Works, 2, p. 426. 



JOY AND ANGEB AT CAMBRIDGE. 2T3 



When Master Stafford read, 
And Master Latimer preached, 
Then was Cambridge blessed. • 

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 salva- 
tion, indulgences, penance, and all the rubrics of the 
canon law ? If liberty is conceded, will not the hierar- 
chy, 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. 

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 spir- 
its, and sent them forth against the reformers." Meet- 
ings 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 favor his the- 
sis, and then, arrayed in his costliest robes, with head 
erect and Bolemn step, already sure of victory, he went 
into the pulpit, combated the heretic, and with pompous 

• Becon's Works, 2, p. 426. 



274 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION* 



voice stormed against the reading of the Bible ;* 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 every thing 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 labor The baker, reading that a little leaven 

leaveneih 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."f 

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 im- 
portance by a serious refutation ?| "Next Sunday I 
will reply to him," said Latimer. 

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 point- 
ed out all their absurdity with so much wit that tti6 
poor prior was buried in his own nonsense. Then turn- 
ing towards the listening crowd, he exclaimed with 
warmth, "This is how your skilful guides abuse youf 

• With great pomp and prolixity. Gilpin's Life of Latimer, p. & 

f The nation full of blind beggars. Ibid. 

J Si et ridebitur alicubi materiia ipsis satisfiet. Malta sunt sic 
digna revinci, ne gravitate adorentur. Contra Valentin, c. & Sot 
also Pascal's Provincials, Letter U. 



LATIMER'S REPLY 



2?6 



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 Scrip* 
tures, and you will easily discover the absurdity of the 
teaching of your doctors." And then, desirous, as Solo- 
mon 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 mean- 
ing ? 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 describ- 
ed, which are so often found disguised in that garb."* 
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 iu 
respect to the cowl of St. Francis. But his friends re- 
plied, " Do we not whip children ? and he who treats 
Scripture worse than a child, does he not deserve to be 
well flogged ?" 

The Romish party did not consider themselves beat- 
en. The heads of colleges and the priests held frequent 
conferences. The professors were desired to watch care* 
fully 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 9 
u if you become evangelicals, your advancement is at au 
end." But these open-hearted, generous youths loved 

O Gilpin's life of Latimer, p. 10. 



276 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



rather to be poor with Christ, than rich with the priesta 
Stafford continued to teach, Latimer to preach, and Bil« 
ney 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 favorite 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 order- 
ed 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." 

One day as Latimer was preaching in Latin ad clerum, 
the bishop suddenly entered the university church, at- 
tended by a number of priests. Latimer stopped, wait- 
ing respectfully until West and his train had taken their 
places. " A new audience," thought he ; " and besides, an 
audience worthy of greater honor 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 : Ghristus existens Pontifex futu- 
rorum bonorumP Heb. 9 :11. Then describing Jesus 
Christ, Latimer represented him as the "true and per- 
fect pattern unto all other bishops."* 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 con- 
science rather than the sarcasms of an ill-natured dispo- 
sition. 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 
howe\er; and after the sermon said to Latimer with a 
gracious accent, "You have excellent talents, and if 

• Strype's Kocles. Mem. 3, p. 36$. 



LATIMER FORBIDDEN TO PREACH. 2ft 

you would do one thing 1 should be ready to kiss your 
feet."* What humility in a bishop! "Preach in this 

game church," continued West, " a sermon against 

Martin Luther. That is the best way of checking her- 
esy." 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 Lati- 
mer," exclaimed the bishop, "I perceive that you smell 
somewhat of the pan.f .... One day or another you 
will repent of that merchandise." 

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," St. Paul had said ; and 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 check- 
ed. "Behold then," he exclaimed with a bitter sigh, 
u the use of the episcopal office — to hinder the preach- 
ing 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 dili- 
gentest 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, and up with decking oi 



° I will kneel down and kiss your foot. Strype's Eccl. Mem. 8, 
p. 869. + Ibid. p. 370 



2T8 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATIO*. 



images and gay garnishing of stocks and stones ; down 
with (x )d J 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 P* 
Truly may it be said, "There was never such a preacher 
in England as he is."f 

The reformer was not satisfied tvith merely speaking 
he acted. " Neither the menacing words of his adver- 
saiies, nor their cruel imprisonments," says one of his 
contemporaries,! "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 pul- 
pit, 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. 

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 
i523. 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 con- 
vent 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 attract- 
ed by this reformer of another kind. Coleman, Cover- 
dale, Field, Cambridge, Barley, and many other young 
men of the university gathered round Barnes and pro- 
claimed him " the restorer of letters."§ 

But the classics were only a preparatory teaching 

• Latimer's Sermons, Park. Soc., vol. 1, p. 70. Sermon of the 
t* ough. f Ibid. p. 72. 

J He adds, Whatsoever he had once preached, he valiantlj de- 
fended the same. Becon, vol. 2, p. 424. 

§ The great restorer of good learning. Strype, 1, p. 668 ; Fose 
Acta, 6, p. 415. 



BARNES' CONVERSION. 



219 



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 apofltle's 
doctrines, on justification by faith, and on the new crea- 
ture ; 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 astonish- 
ment of the blind doctors, and the great joy of the cleat - 
Bighted, says the chronicler.* 

Barnes was not as yet thoroughly enlightened, and 
thf 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 Pem- 
broke, 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. Be- 
sides, 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 hie 
convictions without fearing the reproaches of the world. 
After many conversations and prayers, Barnes was con 
verted to the gospel of Jesus (Jhrist.f Still, the prior 

° Marvellous in the sight of the great blind doctors. Fox© 
Acta, 5, p. 4L5. 

f Bilney converted Dr Barnes to the gospel of Jesus Christ 
Foxe Acts, 4. p 620 



280 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 

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 believ- 
ed 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," 
Baid this divided character one day, "I confess that my 
cogitations be innumerable."* 

Barnes, having come to a knowledge of the truth, 
immediately displayed a zeal that was somewhat impru- 
dent. 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 ardor. 
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 Augustines', and the church could not contain the 
crowd that flocked to it. At Cambridge, as at Wittem- 
berg, the chapel of the Augustine monks was used for 
the first struggles of the gospel. It was here that Lat- 
imer delivered some of his best sermons. 

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 de- 
partments 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^ He did not 
devote the energy of his soul to difficult questions ; he 
thirsted for God, for his truth, and for his love. Instead 

° Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 434. 

f Notwithstanding his other manifold and singular gifts and 
ornaments of the mind in him most pregnant. Tyndale and 
Fryth's Works, 3, p. 73. 



CHRIST MAS-EVE, 1525. 



of propagating his particular opinions and forming divis- 
ions, he clung only to the faith which saves, and ad- 
vanced the dominion of true unity. This is the mark of 
the great servants 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."* 

Latimer's sermons, Barnes 7 ardor, and Fryth's firm- 
ness 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 ? 

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 bless- 
ing only to undivided hearts, permitted this general 
assault, of which Barnes was to be the hero, to be mark- 
ed 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 obsta- 
cle to the Reformation. Barnes preached from the epis- 
tle for the day, "Rejoice in the Lord alway." FhiL 
4 : 4-7. But instead of announcing Christ and the joy 
of the Christian, he imprudently declaimed against the 
kxury, pride, and diversions of the churchmen, and 
everybody understood that he aimed at the cardinal. He 
described those magnificent palaces, that brilliant suite, 

• That is very small, nevertheless that little. Tyndale and 
Fxyth's Works, 3, p. 83. 



282 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



those scarlet robes and pearls and gold and previous 
stones, and all the prelate's ostentation, so little in keep- 
ing, said he, with the stable of Bethlehem. Two fellows 
■)f King's college. Robert Ridley and Walter Preston, 
relations of Tonstall, bishop of London, who were inten- 
tionally among the congregation, noted down in their 
tablets the prior's imprudent expressions. 

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 tne vice- 
chancellor. All Cambridge was in commotion. What, 
Barnes the Augustine prior, the restorer of letters, ac- 
cused 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' 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 serm m." 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 Staf- 
ford. "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 inde- 
cision 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 



GEBMANY AT CAMBBIDGE, 283 



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, Queen's, King's, 
Cains, Benet's, and Peterhouse. The gospel was preach- 
ed at the Augustines', at St. 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.* 

There was at Cambridge a house called the White 
Horse, so situated as to permit the most timid members 
of King's, Queen's, and St. John's colleges to enter at 
the rear without being perceived. In every age Nico- 
demus 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 by- 
words. At first the frequenters of the White Horse 
were called Sophists ; and now, whenever a group oi 
"fellows" was seen walking in that direction, the cry 
was, " There are the Germaus going to Germany." "We 
are not Germans," was the reply, "neither are we Ro- 
mans." 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."f 

Similar things were taking place at Oxford. In 1524 
and 1525, Wolsey had successively invited thither sev 

• Flocked together in open street. Strype, Mem. 1, p. 568, 
f Beoon, 2, p. 426. 



284 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



era! 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, Bailey, Michael Drumm, Th. Lawny, 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 Cam- 
bridge brethren, at which God manifested his presence. 
The bishops made war upon the gospel; the king sup- 
ported them with all his power ; but the word had gain- 
ed 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 Lon- 
don 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 thoae Scriptures of God which, three centuries 
later, multiplied by thousands and by millions, and trans- 
lated into a hundred and fifty tongues, were to be waft- 
ed from the same banks to the ends of the world. If in 
the fifteenth century, and even in the early years of the 
sixteenth, the English New Testament had been brought 
to London, it would only have fallen into the hands of a 
'ew Lollards. Now in every place, in the parsonages, 
the universities, and the palaces, as well as in the cottar 
ges of the husbandmen and the shops of the tradesmen, 
there was an ardent desire to possess the holy Scrip- 
tures. 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 princi- 
ples — 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 — Dis- 
semination of Scripture — What the people find in it — The effect* 
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 pur- 
gatory. 

The church and the state are essentially distnict. 
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 par- 
ticular spirit of each nation, within which the state should 
confine itself ; while the church, whose limits are cofex* 
tensive 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 anoth- 
er, 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 st$te has e»p£ 



286 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cial 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 con- 
tinually fettered in its progress by the internal power oi 
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 endeavor to appreciate accu- 
rately the part he played. 

If the Reformation, particularly in England, hap- 
pened 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 si 
lence 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 assur- 
edly they are not the Reformation. From a very differ- 
ent quarter proceeded the divine light which then rose 
upon the human race. 

To say that Henry VIII. was the reformer of his peo- 
ple, is to betray our ignorance of history. The kinglj 
power in England by turns opposed and favored the re 
form in the church ; but it opposed before it favored, and 
much more than it favored. 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 agaiu put itself in communication with its 
creative principle, that is, with the word of God. Just 
g§ the buckets of a wheel employed in irrigating the 



GOD'S SPIBIT CREATES THE CHUBOH. 281 



meadows have no sooner discharged their reviving wa» 
ters, than they dip again into the stream to be refilled, 
go 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 Epis- 
tles ; 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 bright- 
ness — those princes and sports, those noblemen, and 
trials and laws, far from effecting a reform, were calcu- 
lated to stifle it. But the light and the warmth came 
from heaven, and the new creation was completed. 

In the reign of Henry VIII. a great number of citi- 
zens, priests, and noblemen possessed that degree of cul- 
tivation which favors 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 ac- 
complished. 

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 con- 
sented to a reform of abuses and doctrines on coidition 
of his keeping his position, the religious revolution would 
not have been satisfied at that price, and that after de- 
manding reform, the next demand would have been for 
liberty. The only reproach that can be made to this as- 
sertion is, that it is superabundantly true. Liberty wag 
an integral part of the Reformation, and one of the 
changes imperatively required was to withdraw relig- 
ious authority from the pope, and restore it to the word 
of God. In the sixteenth century there was a great out- 
pouring of the Christian life in France, Italy, and Spain ; 
it is attested by martyrs without number, and history 



288 HISTOBY OF THE BE FORMATION. 

shows that to transfoim these three great nations, all 
that the gospel wanted was liberty.* " 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 Koraan church." We may therefore believe 
that if Itaty, 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 tho 
gospel, would have entered upon an era of liberty and 
faith. 

The struggles of England with the popedom began 
shortly after the dissemination of the English New Tes- 
tament 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 Roman- 
ists — 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. 

It was about the close of the year 1525 ; the Eng 
lish 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 merchan- 
dise, and then made sail from Antwerp for London. 

Thus those precious pages were approaching Eng- 
land 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 Coch- 
laeus 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 

• Geddes' Martyrology. Gonsalvi, Mart. Hiap. Uorente, Ii^ 
quia. M'Crie, Kef. in Spain,. 



THOMAS GABRET. 289 

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 ascend- 
ing the river, an invisible hand had dispersed the pre- 
ventive guard. Tonstall, bishop of London, had been 
sent to Spain ; Wolsey was occupied in political combi- 
nations 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 
eo speak, had sent his angel to remove the guards. 

Seeing nothing that could stop them, the five mer- 
chants, whose establishment was at the Steelyard 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 prin- 
cipal instrument God was about to use for their dissem- 
ination was a humble servant of Christ. 

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, ear- 
nestly called his hearers to repentance ;* he urged upon 
them that works, however good they might be in appear- 
ance, were by no means capable of justifying the sin- 
ner, and that faith alone could save him.f He main- 
tained that every man had the right to preach the word 
of God ; J and called those bishops Pharisees who perse- 

° Earnestly labored to call us to repentance. Becon, 8, p. 11. 

t Quod opera nostra quantum vis bona in specie nihil conducnnt 
ad justificationem nec ad meritum, sed sola fides. Foxe, Acts, 6 
p. 428. 

X Every man may preach the wo id of God. Ibid. 

■M. «f B»C, Yoi. T. tq 



290 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



cuted Christian men. Garret's discourses, at once bo 
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." Psa. 81 : 16. But Garret was 
about to commit a fault still more heinous in 1he eyes 
of the priests than preaching faith. The Hanse mer 
chants were seeking some sure place where they might 
store up the New Testaments and other books senfc 
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.* He did not confine himself to this. 
Night and day he studied the holy books ; he held gos- 
pel 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 be- 
came a trader, and sold the New Testament to laymen, 
and even to priests and monks, so that the holy Scrip- 
tures were dispersed over the whole realm.f This hum- 
ble and timid priest was then performing alone the bib- 
lical work of England. 

And thus the word of God, presented by Erasmus to 
the learned in 1517, was given to the people by Tyndale 
in 1526. In paroonages 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 con- 
versation, 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 doc- 
trine or all history, but these two elements mingled to- 
gether made an admirable whole. Above all, the life ol 
our Saviour, so divine and so human, had an inexpres 

• Having the said books in his custody. Foxe, Acts, 6, p 428 
f Dispersing abroad of the said books within this realm. Ibid 
Seo also Strype Qranmer't Mem., p. 81. 



CHRIST'S LAST WILL. 



291 



sible 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 school? 
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 teach- 
ings concern. This fall and this restoration — they are 
mine. That old death and this new life — I have pass- 
ed 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, are 
all 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 cer- 
tain 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."* Now that this condition was ful- 
filled, the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the 
waters. 

Such at that period were the hermeneutics of Eng- 
land. Tyndale had set the example himself by explain- 
ing many of the words which might stop the reader. 
" The New Testament/" we may suppose some farmer say- 
ing, as he took up the book ; " what Testament is that V } 
" 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 

• Nullus homo unnm iota in Scripturis sacris videt, nisi qui Spi< 
ritum Dei h&bet. Luther, De servo arbitrio, Witt., 2, p. 424. 



292 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATIO*. 



all that repent and believe.* He bequeaths them his 
righteousness to blot out their sins, his salvation to 
overcome their condemnation ; and this is why that doc- 
ument is the Testament of Jesus Christ " 

1 The law and the gospel!" said a citizen of London, in 
his shop ; " what is that V 9 " They are two keys, 99 an- 
swered 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.^f 
Every one understood and read, or rather, devoured the 
inspired pages ; and the hearts of the elect, to use Tyn- 
dale's words, warmed by the love of Jesus Christ, began 
to melt like wax.J 

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. H 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 favor 

The amiable and zealous young man desired to do 
more. " Father," said he one day to Sir Thomas, "pro- 
cure 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 ex- 
erted 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 

• Tyndale and Fryth's Works, ed Russell, vol. 2, p. 491. The 
"Pathway unto the Holy Scripture" is the prologue to the quarto 
Testament, with a few changes of little importance. 

f Tyndale and Fryth's Works, ed. Russell, vol. 2, p 603. 

t Ibid., p. 500. § More's life, p. 184. 



BBtffct WII. AND BIS VAtlt. m 



* The young man's imagination was struck, but 
his heart had not been changed. The discussions hav- 
ing ceased, the father's authority being restored, Roper 
became less fervent in his faith, and gradually he re- 
turned to popery, of which he was afterwards a zealous 
champion. 

The humble curate of All-Hallows having sold tne 
New Testament to persons living in London and its 
neighborhood, 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 cita- 
del of traditional Catholicism. It was there he had stud- 
ied, and he felt towards that school the affection which 
a son bears to his mother : he set out with his books.* 
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 con- 
cert 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. 

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."f "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 char- 

° And brought with him Tyndale's first translation of the New 
Testament in English. Foxe, Acts, 5, p. 421. 

f His grace should see such a book as it was a marvel to hear of 
Ibid., i. p. 663. 



294 HISTOKY OF THE BEFORMATION. 

acter employed to give the cardinal his lesson," contia* 
ned the valet, "Master Pish boldly accepted it. The 
piece produced a great effect; and my lord being in- 
formed 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 ex 
ample, he composed the book of which I was speaking 
to your grace." " What 's the name of it ?" " The Sup 
plication of the Beggars. 11 "Where did you see it?" 
"At two of your tradespeople's, George Elyot and 
George Robinson ;* if your grace desires it, they shall 
bring it you." The king appointed the day and the 
hour. 

The book was written for the king, and everybody 
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.f " What do you want ?" 
he said to them. " Sir," replied one of the merchants, 
" we are come about an extraordinary book that is ad- 
dressed 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." 

" To the king our sovereign lord : 

" Most lamentablj complaineth of their woeful mis- 
ery 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 ail the alms of all the well-disposed 
people of this your realm are not half enough to sustaio 
them, but that for very constraint they die for hunger, 

• Faze, Acts, 4, p. 658. f Ibid - 



THE BEGGARS' 8UPPLICATI0N. 295 



" 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 Sa- 
tan are now increased not only into a great number, out 
also into a kingdom." 

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 [that is, absolution] at 
Easter. . . . Finally, what get they in a year ? Summa 
totalis : £430,333 6s. Sd. sterling, whereof not four hun- 
dred 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 succor 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 cap- 
tivate 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, obedi- 
ence, 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 loobiea 
abroad in the world to take them wives of their own, 
and to get their living with their labor in the sweat of 
their faces. ... Then shall your commons increase in 
riches ; then shall matrimony be much better kept ; then 
shall net your sword, power, crown, dignity, and obedi- 
ence of your people be translated from you." 

When Elyot had finished reading, the king was si- 
lent, sunk in thought. The true cause of the ruin of tno 
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."* Thus then, in 
the king's eyes, Pish by attacking the priests was dis- 
turbing 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. 

Shortly after the king had received this copy, on 
Wednesday the 2d 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 pam- 
phlet 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. 

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 

• The tipper part thereof might chance to fall upco his head 
Fose, Acts, 4, p. 658. 



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."* "The Souls in Purgatory" then 
call the author of the Beggars' Supplication " a goose, 
an ass, a mad dog." Thus did superstition degrade 
M >re's noble genius. Notwithstanding the abuse of the 
Sonls in Purgatory, the New Testament was daily read 
mere and more in England. 



• Supplication of the Sonls in Purgatory. More' a Works. 



f 

298 HISTOBY OF THE BEFORMATIOIT. 



CHAPTER II. 

Ths two authorities — Commencement of the search — Garret at Ok 
ford— 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 — Frater- 
nal love at Oxford — Alarm of Dalaber — His arrest and examina- 
tion — He is tortured — Garret and twenty fellows imprisoned — 
The cellar — Condemnation and humiliation. 

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 en- 
tered 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.* The 
cardinal hastened to assemble the bishops, and these — 
particularly Warham and Tonstall, who had long enjoy- 
ed 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 

• Actus meritorius est in potentate hominis. Duns Scotus in 
Bentent. lib. 1, diss. 17. 



GAKRET'S ALARM. 



Saturday, February 3d, 1526, and the work began imme- 
diately. 

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.* 
"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 a historian, "was the 
charity of these holy fathers."f 

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 as- 
sembly, who is deep in the cardinal's favor." 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 in deed one to another," 
says Dalaber,J — 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 Febru- 
ary Garret left Oxford without being observed. 

Having provided for Garret's safety, Dalaber next 

• He was searched for through all London. Foxe, Acts, 5, fk 
421. f J Ibid, 



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, (Ecolampadius, 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 Stras* 
burg,* and went to Gloucester college, where he intend- 
ed to study the civil law, not caring to have any thing 
more to do with the church. 

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 lib- 
erty, 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 su- 
perstitious 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,f 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, an- 
nounced this important capture to the cardinal. They 
thought popery was saved, because a poor curate had 
been taken. 

Dalaber, engaged in preparing his new room at 
Gloucester college, had not perceived all this commo- 

• In Lucie Evangel i inn Commentarii, nunc secundo recognlti et 
locupletati. Argentorati, 1525. f Foxe, 5, p. 422. 



GARRET AND DALABEB. 



801 



tion.* On Saturday, at noon, having finished his ar- 
rangements, he double-locked his door, and began to 
rea,d 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, Gar- 
ret told Anthony every thing. " Observing that Dr. 
Oottisford 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,f "For mercy's sake, 
help me 1 Save me I" 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." 

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.J 

« Foxe, 5, p. 422. 

f With deep sighs and plenty of tears* Ibid. 

$ That we all bewet both our faces. Ibid, p. 423. , . 



302 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



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, breath- 
ing 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 : " 0 God, by thy Holy Spirit endue with 
heavenly strength this tender and new-born little tiock 
in Oxford.* 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." 

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.f 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 seem- 
ed to Dalaber that they were singing Garret's deliver- 
ance. 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."! 

As he listened, leaning against the entrance into the 
choir. Dr. Cottisford, the university commissary, arrived 
with hasty step, "bareheaded, and as pale as ashes." 
He passed Anthony without noticing him, and going 
straight to the dean appeared to announce some impor- 
tant and unpleasant news. "I know well the cause of 
his sorrow," thought Dalaber as he watched every ges* 

• Foxe, 6, p. 428. f Aid. J Ibid. 



FBATERNAL LOVE. 



303 



ture. The commissary had scarcely finished his report 
when the dean arose, and both left the choir with undis- 
guised confusion. They had only reached the middle of 
the ante-chapel when Dr. London ran in, puffing and 
chafing and stamping, " like a hungry and greedy lion 
seeking his prey."* All three stopped, questioned each 
other, and deplored their misfortune. Their rapid and 
eager movements indicated the liveliest emotion : Lon- 
don 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. 

Anthony having left the chapel, hurried to Clark to 
tell him of the escape of his friend. " We are walking 
in the midst of wolves and tigers," replied Clark ; " pre- 
pare for persecution. Prudentia serpentina et simplicitas 
columbina — the wisdom of serpents and the harmlessness 
of doves — must be our motto. 0 God, give us the cour- 
age 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,f and Dalaber hastened to Cor- 
pus 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 Reforma- 
tion as among the Christians of Great Britain. This is 
a feature worthy of notice. 

Fitzjames, Udal, and Diet were met together in the 
rooms of the latter at Corpus Christi college, when Dala- 
ber arrived. They ate their frugal meal with downcast 
eyes and broken voices, conversing of Oxford, of Eng- 
land, and of the perils hanging over them. J Then rising 
from table they fell on their knees, called upon God for 
aid, and separated, Fitzjames taking Dalaber with him 

• Foxe, 6, p. 424 

f To tell unto our other brethren ; for there were divers else In 
that college. Ibid. 

% Considering our state and peril at hand. Ibid. 



804 



HISTORY Off THE REFORMATION. 



to St. Albai^s Hall. They were afraid that the servam. 
of Gloucester college had betrayed him. 

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 refe'choed through the long 
cloisteis all impressed them with terror. On Sunday, 
the 11th of February, Dalaber, who was stirrirg at five 
in the morning, set out for his room in Gloucester col- 
lege. 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 takeD 
part in Garret's flight; he would be arrested, and his 
friend's escape would be revenged on him.* He was 
weighed down by sorrow and alarm ; he sighed heavi- 
ly ;f he imagined he saw Wolsey's commissioners de- 
manding the names of his accomplices, and pretending 
to draw up a proscription list at his dictation ; he recol« 
lected 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 ex- 
claimed, " 0 God, I swear to thee that I will accuse no 

man I will tell nothing but what is perfectly well 

known."J 

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 1 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 

d My musing head being full of forecasting cares. Foxe, 6, 
p. 424. 

f My sorrowful heart flowing with doleful sighs. Ibid, 
j I fully determined in my conscience before God that I would 
accuse no man. Ibid. 



DALABER EXAMINED. 



806 



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 ;* 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 add- 
ed, "to send you to the prior." Anthony Dunstan the 
prior was a fanatical and avaricious monk ; and the con- 
fusion into which this message threw Dalaber was so 
great, that he went just as he was, all bespattered with 
mud, to the rooms cx his superior. 

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 ges- 
ture 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 Antho- 
ny's finger, with the initials A. D.f " Show me that," 
eaid 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 deliv- 
ered of my ring." 

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-omered 
figures were standing beside the altar : they were Oot- 
tisford, London, and Higdon. " Where is Garret V } 
asked London ; and pointing to his disordered dress, ho 

* With bills and swords thrusted through my bed-straw. Foxe, 
5, p. 435. 

+ Then had he spied on my forefinger a big ring of silver, very 
well double-gilted. Ibid., p. 425. 

2Q 



306 HISTOBY OP THE REFORMATION. 



continued, "Your shoes and garments covered with mud 
prove that you have been out all night with him II 
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 V 
Then the three doctors spent two hours attempting to 
shake the young man by flattering promises and fright 
ful 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 Dala- 
ber 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.* When that was done, the three 
doctors devoutly went to mass. 

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 :f " 0 
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 pro- 
test, Anthony felt an increase of peace in his heart ; but 
a new sorrow was reserved for him. 

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 pre- 
sentiments 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 distributers of the New Testament. By 
favoring literature, he had had in view the triumph Oi 
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 

• Foxe, 6, p. 428. f IMd. p. 427. 



THE CBOSS OF TRIBULATION 80T 



Clark, John Fryth, Henry Sumner, William Betts, Rich* 
ard Taverner, Richard Cox, Michael Drumm, Godfrey 
Harm an, 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 Salis- 
bury of Gloucester, Barnard, and St. Mary's colleges* 
were seized and thrown into prison. Wolsey had prom- 
ised 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 follow- 
ed each other in this foul dungeon. The wretched cap- 
tives 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."* 

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 discov 
ered ; 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 kin- 

° God nail eth us to the cross to heal our infinnitire. Tyndalfl 
and Fryth's Works, 3, p. 91, ed. Kusseli 



308 HISTORY_OF THE REFORMATION. 



died at the top of the market-place ;* a long processlcfa 
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 thest 
young and generous men so vilely. In other countries 
also Rome was preparing to stifle in the flames the no- 
blest geniuses of France, Spain, and Italy. Such was 
the reception letters and the gospel met with from pop- 
ery in the sixteenth century. Every plant of God's must 
be beaten by the wind, even at the risk of its being up- 
rooted ; if it receives only the gentle rays of the sun, 
there is reason to fear that it will dry up and wither bt* 1 
fore it produces fruit. "Except a corn of wheat fail 
into the ground and die, it abide th alone." There was to 
arise one day a real church in England, for the persecu* 
tion had begun. 

We have to contemplate still further trials. 

• There was made a great fire upon the top of Carfax, Foxe, 5 ( 
p. 428. 



r 



OAMBBIBGE. 



809 



CHAPTER III. 

Peroecation at Cambridge — Barnes arrested — A grana search — Barnes 
at Wolsey's palace — Interrogated by the cardinal — Conversation 
between Wolsey and Barnes — Barries threatened with the stake 
— His fall and public penance — Richard Bayfield — His faith and 
imprisonment — Visits Cambridge — Joins Tyndale — The confea- 
Bors in the cellar at Oxford — Four of them die — The rest liber- 
ated. 

Cambridge, which had produced Latimer, Bilney, Staf- 
ford, and Barnes, had at first appeared to occupy the 
front rank in the English reformation. Oxford, by receiv- 
ing the crown of persecution, seemed now to have out- 
stripped 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 
th^ very same day two of Wolsey's creatures, Dr. Capon, 
one of his chaplains, and Gibson, a sergeant-at-arms, no- 
torious for his arrogance, left London for Cambridge. 
Submission was the password of popery. " Yes, submis- 
sion," was responded from every part of Christendom by 
men of sincere piety and profound understanding — " sub- 
mission to the legitimate authority against which Roman- 
oatholicism 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 ex- 
ternal and apparent sacrifice of self which Roman-cathol- 
icism 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 per- 
sonality 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 sub- 
jection to their real Sovereign. The reign of God was 
commencing ; that of the priests must needs come to an 



810 HISTOBY OF THE BEFORMJlTION. 



end. No man can serve two masters. Such were the im« 
portant truthp which gradually dawned upon the world, 
and which it became necessary to extinguish without 
delay. 

On the day after their arrival in Cambridge, on Tues- 
day 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.* The latter were frightened, and this was 
what the sergeant wanted. "What," said they, "the 
prior of the Augustines,.the restorer of letters in Cam- 
bridge, arrested by a sergeant P This was not all. 
Wolsey's agents were to seize the books come from Ger- 
many, and their owners ; Bilney, Latimer, Stafford, Ar- 
thur, 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 mis- 
erable wretches, who had been bribed by the inquisitors, 
offered to show the place in every room where the pro- 
hibited books were hidden. But while the necessary 
preparations were making for this search, Bilney, Lati- 
mer, 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 anx- 
ious inquiry was made for sure places in which they 
could be concealed. 

This work was hardly ended, when the vice-chancel- 
lor 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 noth- 
ing. The same thing occurred everywhere ; never was 

• Suddenly arrested Barnes openly in the convocation-house, to 
make all others afraid. Foxe, 6, p. 410. 



BARNES IN WOLSEY'S PALACE. 811 



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 ae 
no books were found, there could be no prisoners. Luck- 
ily there was one man, the prior of the Augustines, 
against whom there were particular charges. The ser- 
geant piomised to compensate himself at Barnes' expense 
for his useless labors. 

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 ParnelPs house, close by the stocks.* Three students, 
Coverdale, Goodwin, and Field, had followed their mas- 
ter to cheer him with their tender affection. 

On Thursday, February 8, the sergeant conducted 
Barnes to the cardinal's palace at Westminster ; the 
wretched prior, whose enthusiasm had given way to 
dejection, waited all day before he could be admitted. 
What a day ! Will no one come to his assistance? Doc- 
tor 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 beg- 
ged 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 V 9 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 peo- 
ple ; 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, 
among the people ? We were jollily that day laughed to 
scorn. Verily it was a sermon more fit to be preached 

• Foxe, 6, p. 110. 



812 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



on a stage than in a pulpit ; for at the last you said 1 
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 ac- 
cording to the old doctors." He then presented to the 
cardina a statement of his teaching. 

Wolsey received the papers with a smile : " Oh, ho," 
Baid he as he counted the six sheets, " I perceive you 
intend to stand to your articles and to show your learn- 
ing." " With the grace of God," said Barnes. Wolsey 
then began to read them, and stopped at the sixth arti- 
cle, 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 apos- 
tle says, " to ordain elders in every city."* 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 under- 
neath him ?" " I know of no ordinance of the church," 
Barnes replied, " as concerning this thing, but Paul's 
saying only." 

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 under- 
stand that, being called to represent his majesty, 1 must 
strive bv these means to strike terror into the wicked ?" 
" It is not your pomp or your poleaxes," Barnes coura* 
geously 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 a humble justification, as Dean Colet had for- 
merly done to Henry VIII., dared preach him a second 
• Kal KdTaorrjoyc ^ard. noXiv npeopvTepovc. Titua 1:6. 



BARNES FALLS. 



813 



sermon to his face. Wolsey felt the color mount to his 
cheeks. " Well, gentlemen," said he, turning to Pox and 
Gardiner, "you hear him! Is this the wise and learned 
man of whom you spoke to me ?" 

At these words both steward and secretary fell on 
th<*ir 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 doc- 
tors in divinity, men as old as yourself." " That is im- 
possible," 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 Par- 
nelPs. 

" 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 contin- 
ually 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 doc- 
tors 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 dread- 
ful. Poor Barnes, a prey to the deepest agony, shrank at 
the thought of the stake ; then suddenly his courage re- 
rived, and he exclaimed, " I would rather be burnt than 
abjure." Gardiner and Fox did all they could to per- 
suade 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 motive* ; from time to time they uttered the 

Htt ofE*f., Vol. V, 



814 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



terrible words, burnt alive. His blood froze in his reins; 
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 faith- 
ful martyr of Jesus Christ; but he had not yet learnt to 
1 resist even unto blood." Barnes had fallen. 

On the following morning, Sunday, February 11, a 
solemn spectacle was preparing at St. PauPs. Before 
daybreak all were astir in the prison of the poor prior ; 
and at eight o'clock, the knight-marshal with his tip- 
staves, and the warden of the Fleet prison with his bill- 
men, conducted Barnes to St. PauPs, 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 sur- 
rounded and their persons arrested. On the top of St 
PauPs steps was a platform, and on the platform a 
throne, and on the throne the cardinal, dressed in scar- 
let, like a " bloody antichrist/ 7 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 fagot, were com 
pelled 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 roi.nd a fire lighted before the cross at the north 
gate of the cathedral. The dejected prior, with down* 
cast head, dragged himself along, rather than walked. 
After the third turn, the prisoners threw their fagots into 
the flames ; some 11 heretical" books also were Hung in ; 



THE MONK OF BUBT. 



815 



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 de- 
prived him of all moral energy. In the month of August 
he was led out of prison and confined in the Augustine 
convent. 

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 Dr. 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 graft- 
ed in the doctrine of Christ," says the historian, who had 
led many to the Saviour by their conversation and ex- 
emplary 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 discov- 
ered, 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.* The unhappy 
Bayfield remained nine months in this condition. 

When Barnes repeated his visit to Bvry at a late* 
• Foxe, 4, p. 681. 



316 HISTOKY OF THE BEFOBMATION. 

period, he did not find the amiable chamberlain at the 
gates of the abbey. Upon inquiry he learned his condi- 
tion, and immediately took steps to procure his deliver- 
ance. 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 hs 
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 lon- 
ger, 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 scandal- 
ized them. " You must depart forthwith," said Max- 
well 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 differ- 
ent nature from those which had taken place at Cam- 
bridge, but not less heart-rending, were passing at Ox- 
ford. 

The storm of persecution was raging there with more 
violence than at Cambridge. Clark and the other con- 
fessors 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* — the 
burning thirst this created, the thoughts by which they 
were agitated, all together combined to crush these no- 
ble-hearted men. Their bodies wasted day by day ; they 
waudered like spectres up and down their gloomy cel- 
lar. Those animated discussions, in which the deep 
questions then convulsing Christendom were so elo* 

• Foxe, 5, p. 6. 



THE CONFESSOBS IN THE CELLAB. 3lT 



quently 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, Sum- 
ner, Bayley, and Goodman, consumed by fever, feebly 
crawled along, leaning against their dungeon walls. The 
fiist, who was also the eldest, could not walk without 
the support of one of his fellow-prisoners. Soon he wag 
quite unable to move, and lay stretched upon the damp 
floor. The brethren gathered round him sought to dis- 
cover 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 3lowly 
the tvords of Scripture, and then knelt down by his side 
and uttered i fervent prayer. 

Clark, feeling his end draw near, asked for the com- 
munion. The jailers conveyed his request to their mas- 
ter ; the noise of the bolts was soon heard, and a turn- 
key, stepping into the midst of the disconsolate band, 
pronounced a cruel No I* On hearing this, Clark looked 
towards heaven, and exclaimed with a father of the 
church, Crede et manducasti — Believe, and thou hast eat- 
en, f He was lost in thought ; he contemplated the cru- 
cified 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 re- 
fuse 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. 

Not alone did Clark descend into the shadowy val- 
ley: Sumner, Bayley, and Goodman were sinking rap- 
idly. Death, the gloomy inhabitant of this foul prison, 
had taken possession of these four friends.! Their breth- 
ren addressed fresh solicitations to the cardinal, at that 
time closely occupied in negotiations with France, Rome, 

° Not be suffered to receive the communion, being in prison. 
Foxe, 6, p. 428. 

f Ibid. Habe fidem et tecum est quern non vides, says Augus- 
tine in another place. See Serm. 235, 272. Tract 26, Evan. Jpfc. 
% Taking their death in the same prison. Foxe, 5, p. $. 



818 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



and Venice.* He found means, however, to give a mo* 
ment to the Oxford martyrs ; and just as these Chris* 
tians were praying over their four dying compani as, 
the commissioner came and informed them that " bis 
lordship, of his great goodness, permitted the sick per- 
sons to be removed to their own chambers." Litteie 
were brought, on which the dying men were placed and 
carried to their rooms ;f the doors were closed again 
upon those whose lives this frightful dungeon had not 
yet attacked. 

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 bedim- 
med eyes sought only Jesus Christ, their everlasting 
hope. Clark, Sumner, and Bayley died in the same week. 
Goodman followed close upon them.J 

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 thart these catastrophes would damage his col- 
lege; 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 Ed* 
ward the prince royal ; Drumm, who under Cranmer be- 
came one of the six preachers at Canterbury; Udal, after- 
wards master of Westminster and Eton schools ; Salis- 

• State Papers, 1, p. 169. f Foxe. 6, p. 5. $ Ibid. 



THE TEMPEST STAYED. 819 

bury, 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 em- 
braced them amid floods of tears. Fryth quitted the 
university not long after and went to Flanders.* Thus 
was the tempest stayed which had so fearfully ravaged 
Oxford. But the calm was of no long duration ; an un- 
expected circumstance became perilous to the cause of 
the Reformation. 



• Tyndale and Fryth's Works, ed. Russell, 8, p. 76. 



8£0 HISTOBY OP THE REFORMATION. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Luther's letter to the king — Henry's anger — His reply — Lather's 
resol ution — Persecutions — Barnes escapes — Proclamations against 
the New Testament — William Roy to Caiaphas — Third edition of 
the New Testament — The triumph of law and liberty — Hackett 
attacks the printer — Hackett' s complaints — A seizure— The year 
1526 in England. 

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 Wit- 
temberg 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 favor the 
gospel,* 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 favorable to the truth. 
How fervently do I wish that this miracle may be 
accomplished in the person of your majesty."f 

We may imagine Henry's wrath as he read this let- 
ter. "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 re- 
ceived it ? . . . And as if that were not enough, he insin- 
uates 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 

• Majestatem tuam caBpisse favere Evangelio. Cochlaus, p. 1£6. 
f Huic miraculo in Majestate tua quam opto ex totis medullis. 
Ibid. p. 127. 



HENBY'S REPLY TO LUTHEB. 321 



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 pas- 
sage concerning the prelate, " here, read what is said of 
you." And then he read aloud, " Illud monstrum et pub- 
licum odium Dei et hominum, cardinalis Eboracensis, pea 
tit ilia 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 bish- 
ops to do as they pleased, and observed a sort of neu. 
trality. 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 asham- 
ed 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 auda- 
cious obstinacy. Your venomous pen mocks the church, 
insults the fathers, abuses the saints, despises the apos- 
tles, dishonors 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."* 

" You offer to publish a book in my praise. ... I thank 
you. . . . You will praise me most by abusing me ; you 
will dishonor me beyond measure if you praise me. I 
say with Seneca, Tarn turpe tibi sit laudari a turpibus, 
quam si lauderis ob turpia."f 

This letter, written by the king of the English to the 
Icing of the heretics^ was immediately circulated through- 

0 Tantus autor haberi postulas, quantus nec hodie quisquam 
sit. Cochlseus, p. 127. 

f Let it be as disgraceful to you to be praised by the vile, as if 
you were praised for vile deeds. 

% Rex Anglorum Regi hasreticorum scribit. Strype, Mem. 1, p. 
91. The title of the pamphlet was Litterarum quibus invictus Pr 
Henrietta VIII. etc. etc, respond* ad quandam Epi&tolam M< Luthcri ad m 



322 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATION. 

out 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." 

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 houi 
to gain the king of England. I therefore laid my hum- 
ble 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 re- 
tract 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, ail these soap-bub- 
bles.... 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.* 
I wait in peace for my last hour ; I have done what I 
could. 0 princes, my hands are clean from your blood j 
it will fall on your own heads." 

Bowing before the supreme royalty of Jesus Christy 
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 in* 

• Ala in tausand Jahren nicht gewesen fet. Luttu Opp 19 
p. 501. 



PEBSECUTIONS. 



328 



flicted 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 ard 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,* endeavoring 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. 

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 Tybali 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 gos- 
pels and a few of the epistles in English. Barnes return- 
ed them with a smile. "They are nothing," he told 
them, "in comparison with the new edition of the New 
restament,"f a copy of which the two peasants bought 
for three shillings and twopence. " 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 mat 

« Foxe, 5, p. 428. 

f Which books he did little regard, and made a twit of it. Ty- 
boll's Confession in Bible Annals, 1, p. 184. 



824 HISTOEY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ing for him during a whole week along the seacoast, he 
secretly went on board a ship, and was carried to Ger- 
many. "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 thej 
barn me, what will they gain by it ? . . . The sun anc 
the moon, fire and water, the stars and the elements i 
yea, and also stones shall defend this cause against them, 
rather than the truth should perish." Faith had returned 
to Barnes' feeble heart. 

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* and ordered a general search after the word of 
God. On the 24th of October, 1526, the bishop of Lon- 
don enjoined on his archdeacons to seize all translations 
of the New Testament in English with or without gloss- 
es ; 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."f The pri- 
mate remembered that a spark was sufficient to kindle a 
large fire. 

On hearing of this order, William Roy, a sarcastic 
writer, published a violent satire, in which figured Judas, 
(Standifjh,) 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. 
0 cruel Caiaphas, full of crafty conspiration, 

How durst thou give them false judgment 

To burn God's word, the holy Testament! J 

• Libri pestiferum virus in se continentes, in promiscuam pro 
vinciae Cant, multitudinem sunt dispersi. Wilk. Cone. 3, p. 706. 
f Vel aliquam ejus particulam. Ibid. 

X Satire of William Boy, printed in the Harl. Misc. vol. 9, p 77 
ed 1809. 



THE AKTWEBP TESTAMENT. 826 



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 tempost, 
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 some- 
thing 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 dan- 
gerous 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 Coun- 
tries, immediately received orders to get this man pun- 
ished. " 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 Hacket 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 gov- 
ernment, shrank from the task, and said to Hackett, " I 
give up the business." The charge against Eyndhoven 
was dismissed. 

Thus did the Reformation awaken in Europe the 
slumbering spirit of law and liberty. By enfranchising 



826 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



thought from the yoke of popery, it prepared the way 
for other enfranchisements ; and by restoring the author- 
ity 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 com- 
promises or annuls. It was not in vain that the magis- 
trates of a Flemish city, enlightened by the first dawn oi 
the Reformation, set so noble an example ; the English, 
who were very numerous in the Hanse Towns, thus 
learned once more the value of that civil and religious 
liberty which is the time-honored 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,* he set off for Ma- 
lines to complain to the regent and her counsel 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 favorably 
disposed towards England, ratified Eyndhoven's acquit- 
tal, 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 assist- 
ance. In their view, as well as in that of their English 
colleagues, the supreme decision in matters of faith rest- 
ed 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. 

• My choler was descended. Anrtnrmni'g Ann, of Bible, 1, p. 120 



THE YEAR 15 26 IN ENGLAND. 32T 



Notwithstanding these trials, the year 1526 was a 
memorable one for England. The English New Testa- 
ment had been circulated from the shores of the Channel 
to the borders of Scotland, and the Reformation had be- 
gun 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. 

Wolaey 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 — Mis< 
sion to Spain. 

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 cre- 
ate such a confusion in the world as has not been seen 
for ages. ... I will do it, even should England be swal- 
lowed up in the tempest."* Desirous of exciting imper- 
ishable 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,*}" and he had sworn to be revenged. 
There can be no doubt about Wolsey's share in the mat- 
ter. " 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."! The best-informed writers 
of the sixteenth century, men of the most opposite par- 
ties, Pole, Polydore, Virgil, Tyndale, Meteren, Pallavi- 
cini, 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.§ He desired to go still 

° Sandoval, 1, p. 358. Ranke, Deutsche Gesch. 3, p. 17. 

f Malos oderat mores. Polyd. Virg. p. 685. 

X Le Grand, Hist, du divorce, Preuves, p. 186. 

§ Instigator et auctor concilii existimabatur. Pole. Apology 



farther, and after inducing the king to put away his 
queen, he hoped to prevail on the pope to depose the 
emperor.* It was not his passion for Anne Boleyn, as 
bo 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 piido 
is one of the most active principles of human nature. 

Wolsey's design was a strange one, and difficult of 
execution, but not impossible. Henry was living appar- 
ently 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 Plan- 
tagenet, 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 
numberf — 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.J 

He was furious mad, and imagined this divorcement between the 
king and the queen. Tyndale'p Works, 1, p. 465. See also Sande- 
rus, 7 and 9 ; Polyd. Virg. p. 685 ; Meteren, Hist, of the Low Coun- 
tries, p. 20 ; Pallavicini, Cone. Trident, 1, 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. 

a Le Grand, Hist, du divorce, Preuves, pp. 65, 69. 

f Jampridem conjugium regium, veluti infirmum. Polyd. 'Tirg. 
p. 685. 

X That matrimony which the king at first seemed not disposed 
to annul. Strype, 1, p. 136. 



380 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 hav- 
ing 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.* 

Wolsey judged the moment favorable for beginning 
the attack. It was in the latter months of 1526, when 
calling Longland the king's confessor to him, and con- 
cealing 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 ;f but Longland insisted 
that Wolsey should take the first steps. 

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 unu- 
sual warmth, he entreated the king to remain no longer 
in such danger.J "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.§ 

• Burnet, vol. 1, p. 20, London, 1841. Letter from Grynaeus to 
Bucer. Strype, 1, p. 136. 

f Quaraprimum regi patefaciendum. Polyd. Virg. p. 686. 

% Veheinenter orat ne se patiatur in tin to versari discrimine. Ik 

§ Bone pater, ride bene quale saxum suo loco jacens mo? ere 
oonaris. Ibid. 



MARGARET OF VALOIS. 



881 



The qneen is a woman of such exemplary life that I 
have no motive for separating from her." 

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 car- 
dinal, "you cannot, like Herod, have your brother's 
wife.* I exhort and conjure you, as having the care of 
your soul,f to submit the matter to competent judges." 
Henry consented, and perhaps not unwillingly. 

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 sec- 
ond. "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."! 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 learned 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.§ Margaret of 
Valois replied, " Let me hear no more of a marriage that 
can be effected only at the expense of Catharine of Ara- 
gon's happiness and life."|| The woman who was des* 

0 Like another Herodes. More's Life, p. 129. 

\ Ipse cui de salute animae turn cura est, hortor, rogo, persuadeo. 
Polyd. Virg. p. 686. 

J Mulier praeter caeteras digna matrimonio tuo. Ibid. 

§ Works, 1, p. 464, ed. Russell. 

|| Princeps ilia, mulier optima, noluerit quicquam audire de nup- 
tiis, quae nuptiae non possunt conjungi sine miserabili Catharine 
oasu atque adeo interitu. Polyd. Virg. p. 687. 



§38 SlStOfc* Of THE BEfOBMATION, 



tined in future years to fill the throne of England "was 
then residing at Margaret's court. Shortly after this, 
on the 24th of January, 152T, the sister of Francis I. 
married Henry d'Albret, king of Navarre. 

Henry VIII., desirous of information with regard to 
nis favorite's suggestion, commissioned Fox his almo- 
ner, 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.* Pace replied to this servile hebraist that the 
king wanted nothing but the truth. 

But who would take the first public step in an un- 
dertaking so hazardous? Every one shrunk 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 Eng- 
land. Henry's ministers having inquired whether the 
engagement of Francis with the queen-dowager of Portu- 
gal 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 impedi- 
ments which opposed the marriage of which the princess 
Mary is issue."f They laid before the ambassador the 
iispensation of Julius II., which he returned, saying 

• Utrum staret ad te an contra te ? Le Grand, Preuves, p. 2. 

f What had been here provided for taking away the impediment 
of that marriage. State Papers, 1, p. 199. Le Grand, 1, 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. 



HENBY'S UNEASINESS. 



388 



that the bull was not sufficient, seeing that such a mar- 
riage was forbidden jure divino;* and he added, "Have 
you English a different gospel from ours ?"f 

The king, when he heard these words, as he informs 
us himself, was filled with fear and horror. J 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 bf tm 
terribly increased," he said, "since the bishop spoke of 
this matter before my council in exceedingly plain 
words."§ There is no reason to believe that these ter- 
rible 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 pre- 
tenders 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 favorite author Thomas Aqui- 
nas, 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 dark- 
ness a new perspective opened before him. His con- 
science 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.)) 

During all this time Catherine, suspecting no evil, 

° Wherewith the pope could not dispense, nisi ex urgentissima 
causa. Wolsey to Henry VIII., dated July 8. State Papers, 1, p. 
199. 

t Anglos, qui tuo imperio subsunt, hoc idem evangelium colere 
quod nos colimus. Sanders, 12. 

Quae oratio quanto metu ac horrore animum nostrum turbare* 
rit. Henry's speech to the lord mayor and common council at his 
palace of Bridewell, November 8, 1528. Hall, p. 754; Wilkin* 
Condi. 3, p. 714. 

§ Du Bellay's letter in Le Grand. Preuves, p. 218. 

|| Excrescunt in magna volumina. Wolsey to Henry VIIL State 
Papers, 1, p. 200. 



834 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



was occupied in her devotions. Her heart, bruised by 
the death of hex 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 01 
June, 1527 — some officious person informed her of the 
rumors 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 com- 
plaints.* Henry was content to calm her by vague 
assurances ; but the unfeeling Wolsey, troubling him- 
self still less than his master about Catherine's emotion, 
called it, with a smile, " a short tragedy ." 

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 Fran- 
cis Philip, a Spaniard, to her nephew ; and to conceal 
the object of his journey, they proceeded, after the trage- 
dy, 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.f " Philip's request is very proper," he 
made answer ; and Catherine, from regard to her hus- 
band, 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." 

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, 

• The queen hath broken with your grace thereof. State Pa 
pen, 1, p. 200. 

* f The king's highness, knowing great collusion and dissimulation 
between them, doth also dissemble. Knight to Wolsey. Ibid. p. 
216. 



THE SECBET BETRAYED. 



83b 



her tears, the numerous messages she sent, now to one 
and now to another, betrayed the secret which tl*e king 
wished still to conceal.* Her friends blamed her for 
this publicity; men wondered what Charts 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 wom- 
an was about to play an important part in the destinies 
of England. 

9 By her behaviour, manner, words, and messages sent to diverse, 
bath published, divulged, etc. State Papers, , p. 200 



886 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION* 



CHAPTER VI. 

^TiQG Boleyn appointed maid of honor to Catherine — Lord Percy 
becomes attached to her — Wolsey separates them — Anne enters 
Margaret's household — Siege of Rome — Cromwell — Wolsey'a 
intercession for the popedom — He demands the hand of Renee 
of France for Henry — Failure — Anne reappears at court— -Repels 
the king' 8 advances — Henry's letter — He resolves to accelerate 
the divorce — Two motives which induce Anne to refuse the 
crown — Wolsey 's opposition. 

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 honor. The following year was a memorable one to 
her from her first sorrow. 

Among the young noblemen in the cardinal's house- 
hold was Lord Percy, eldest son of the Earl of Northum- 
berland. While Wolsey was closeted with the king, 
Percy was accustomed to resort to the queen's apart- 
ments, where he passed the time among her ladies. He 
soon felt a sincere passion for Anne, and the young maid 
of honor, who had been cold to the addressee of the gen- 
tlemen 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. 

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. Be- 
sides, certain partisans of the clergy accused Anne of 
being friendly to the Reformation,* It is generally 
° Meteren's Hist, of the Low Countries, folio, 20. 



ANNE BOLEYN AND LORD PEBOT. 831 



believed that even at this period Wolsey had discovered 
Henry's eyes turned complacently on the young maid of 
honor, and that this induced him to thwart Percy's love ; 
but this seems improbable. Of all the women in Eng- 
land, 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 mar- 
ried to Percy. It has been asserted that Henry prevail- 
ed cn the cardinal to thwart the affection of the two 
young people ; but in that case did he confide to Wol- 
sey the real motive of his opposition ? Did the latter 
entertain criminal intentions ? Did he undertake to yield 
up to dishonor 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. 

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 to 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 ;* 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 bit- 
terly, and vowed against the young nobleman who had 
deserted her a contempt equal to her hatred of the car- 
dinal. Anne was reserved for a more illustrious, but 
more unhappy fate. 

This event necessarily rendered her residence in this 

• Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 123. Cavendish was present at this 
conversation. 

Btet. ofS«f., Yol V. 



838 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



country far from attractive to Anne Boleyn. " She did 
not stay long in England," says Burnet, following Cam- 
den : " she served Queen Claude of France till her death, 
and after that she was taken into service by King Fran- 
cis' sister" Anne Boleyn, lady-in-waiting to Margaret 
of Valois, was consoled at last. She indulged in gaye- 
ties with all the vivacity of her age, and glittered 
among the youngest and the fairest at all the court fes- 
tivities. 

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 Emanuel," to whom 
Margaret addressed such beautiful verses. 

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 Pyre- 
nees, recalled her to England probably in the winter or 
spring of the same year. " There is not the least evi- 
dence that she came to it earlier," says a modern authc >r.* 
She appeared once more at court, and the niece of the 
duke of Norfolk soon eclipsed her companions "by her 
excellent gesture and behavior,"f as we learn from a 
contemporary unfriendly to the Boleyns. All the court 
was struck by the regularity of her features, the expres- 
sion ol her eyes, the gentleness of her manners, and the 

• Turner, Hist. Henry VHI. 2 t p. 186. 
f Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 120. 



THE POPE A CAPTIVE. 



889 



majesty of her carriage.* " She was a beautiful crea* 
tare," says an old historian, " well proportioned, courte- 
ous, amiable, very agreeable, and a skilful rausician.^f 

While entertainments were following close upon each 
other at the court of Henry VIII., a strange rumor filled 
all England with surprise. It was reported that the 
imperialist soldiers had taken Rome by assault, and that 
Borne Englishmen were among those who had mounted 
the breach. One Thomas Cromwell was specially nam- 
edj — the man who nearly twenty years before had ob- 
tained certain indulgences from Julian 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 learned it by heart during the cam- 
paign. Being gay, brave, and intelligent, he entertain- 
ed, from reading the gospel and seeing Rome, a great 
aversion for the policy, superstitions, and disorders of 
the popedom. The day of the Tth of May, 1527, decid- 
ed the tenor of his life. To destroy the papal power 
became his dominant idea. On returning to England he 
entered the cardinal's household. 

However, the captive pope and cardinals wrote let- 
ters "filled with tears and groans."§ Full of zeal for 
the papacy, Wolsey ordered a public fast. " The em- 
peror will never release the pope unless he be compel 
led," 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." 

}*ut Wolsey would not be discouraged; and on the 
3d of July he passed through the streets of London rid- 
ing a richly caparisoned mule, and resting his feet on 
gilt stirrups, while twelve hundred gentlemen accompa- 
nied him on horseback He was going to entreat Fran- 

• Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt, in Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, 
p 424. 

f Meteren's Hist, of the Low Countries, folio, 20. 
% Foxe, vol. 6, p. 365 

§ Plonas lacryraarum et raise rise, State Papers, vol 1* 



840 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cis to aid his master in saving Clement VII. Ho had 
found no difficulty in prevailing upon Henry; Charles 
talked of carrying the pope to Spain, and of permanent- 
ly establishing the apostolic see in that country.* Now, 
how could they obtain the divorce from a Spanish pope ? 
During the procession, Wolsey seemed oppressed with 
grief, and even shed tears ;f 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, 

"Kediit Henrici octavi virtute serena." 

Desirous of forming a close union between France 
and England for the accomplishment of his designs, he 
had cast his eyes on the princess Renee, daughter oi 
Louis XII., and sister-in-law to Francis E, 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 Compifcgne, and there 
Wolsey, styling Charles the most obstinate defender of 
Lutheranism,| promising "perpetual conjunction on the 
one hand," between France and England, " and perpetual 
disjunction on the other," between England and Ger- 
many^ demanded Rente's hand for king Henry. Staffi- 
leo, 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.|| This avowal, 
bo remarkable on the part of the dean of one of the first 
jurisdictions of Rome, induced Francis' mother to listen 
favorably to the cardinal's demand. But whether this 
proposal was displeasing to Renee, who was destined on 
a future day to profess the pure faith of the gospel with 
greater earnestness than Margaret of Valois, or whether 

• The see apostolic should perpetually remain in Spain. State 
Papers, vol. 1, p. 227. 

f I saw the lord cardinal weep very tenderly. Cavendish, p. 151 

j Omnium maxime dolosus et haeresis Lutherianae fautor acerri- 
mus. State Papers, 1, p. 274. 

§ Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, 1, p. 185, 

I Jfisi clave errante. State Papers, 1, p. 272. 



ANNE BOLEYN. 



841 



Francis was not overanxious 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. 

The daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, who had been 
created Viscount Rochford in 1525, was constantly at 
court, "where she flourished in great estimation and 
favor," says Cavendish, "having always a private indig- 
nation against the cardinal for breaking off the pre-con- 
tract made between Lord Percy and her," little suspect- 
ing that Henry had had any share in it.* 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 readi- 
ness of her repartees, and above all, the amiability of 
her character, won every heart. She brought to Green- 
wich 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 ;f 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. J Numerous 
admirers once more crowded round Anne Boleyn, and 
among others, one of the most illustrious noblemen and 

° For all this while she knew nothing of the king's intended 
purpose, said one of his adversaries. Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 129. 

f Ad illius imitationem reliquse regiae ancillae colli et pectoris 
iuperiora, quae antea nuda gestabant, operire cceperunt. Sanders, 
p. 16. 

% See Sanders, ibid. It is useless to refute Sanders' storiee. 
We refcr 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 th* Roman 
bgendary. 



342 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



poets of England, Sir Thomas Wyatt, a follower of Wick- 
liffe. He, however, was not the man destined to replace 
the son of the Percies. 

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 honor. 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 admira- 
tion, 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 attach- 
ing particular importance to the royal present. Henry's 
attentions became more continuous ; and he took advan- 
tage 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 exclaim- 
ed, 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."* 
Henry gracefully replied that he should at least continue 
to hope. But Anne, rising up, proudly made answer, 
44 [ understand not, most mighty king, how you should 
retain any such hope ; your wife I cannot be, both in 
rewpect of mine own un worthiness, and also because you 
have a queen already. Your mistress I will not be." 
Anne kept her word. She continued to show the king, 
eveu after this interview, all the respect that was due to 
him ; but on several occasions she proudly, violently 
even, repelled his advances.f In this age of gallantry 
we find her resisting for nearly six years all the seduc 
tioas 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 

• Sloane MSS. No. 2,495 ; Turner's Hist. Eng. 2, p. 196. 

t Tan to vehementius preces regias ilia repulit. Sandeia, p. 17* 



HENRY'S LETTER TO ANNE. 343 



the queen treated her with politeness. Catherine show* 
ed, however, that she had remarked the king's prefer- 
ence. One day, as she was playing at cards with her 
maid of honor, while Henry was in the room, Anne fre- 
quently } olding the king, she said, " My Lady Anne, yon 
have good hap to stop ever at a king; but you are not 
like others, you will have all or none." Anne blushed : 
ftom that moment Henry's attentions acquired more im- 
portance ; she resolved to withdraw from them, and 
quitted the court with Lady Rochford. 

The king, who was not accustomed to resistance, 
was extremely grieved ; and having learned 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 1 
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, 1 cannot enough marvel at, being per- 
suaded 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 1 value the most. And if you love me with ae 
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 ab- 
sence afflicts me. I hope it is not your will that it 
should be so ; but if I heard for certain that you your 



344 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



self 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."* 

The word servant (serviteur) employed in this letter 
explains the sense in which Henry used the word mis- 
tress. In the language of chivalry, the latter term ex- 
pressed 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 obsti- 
nate refusal of an adulterous love.f 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 deter- 
mined 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. 

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 

° 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. 

f Concubina enim tua fieri pudica mulier nolebat, uxor volebat. 
Ula cujus amore rex deperibat, pertinacissime negabat sui corporis 
potestatem. Polus ad Regem, p. 176. Cardinal Pole is a for more 
trustworthy authority than Sanders- 



AN UNEXPECTED BLOW. 



In particular counterbalanced all the prospects of great- 
ness which were set before her eyes. The first ^ is her 
respect for the queen. " How could I injure a princess 
of such great virtue V 9 she exclaimed.* The second was 
the fear that a union with " one that was hoi 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, f 

Yet the noblemen and ladies of Henry's court whis- 
pered 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 favorite. It 
was at the very moment when all these emotions were 
so variously agitating the court that the cardinal, return- 
ing from his embassy to Francis, reappeared in London, 
where an unexpected blow struck him. 

Wolsey was expressing his grief to Henry at having 
failed in obtaining either Margaret or Rende 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 Bohe- 
mia should ascend the throne ? Wolsey threw himself 
at the feet of his master, and entreated him to renounce 
so fatal a project.^ It was then no doubt that he re- 
mained, as he afterwards said, an hour or two on his 
knees before the king in his privy chamber,§ but with- 
out prevailing on Henry to give up his design. Wol- 
sey, persuaded that if he continued openly to oppose 
Henry's will, he would for ever lose his confidence, dis- 
sembled his vexation, waiting an opportunity to get rid 

0 The love she bare even to the queen whom she served that 
was also a personage of great virtue. Wyatt, Mem. of A. B. p. 428. 
f Ibid. 

% Whose persuasion to the contrary, made to the king upon his 
knees. Cavendish, p. 204. § Ibid, p 388. 



848 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



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;* and from that hour Anne Boleyn became the 
object of the hatred and calumnies of Rome. But at the 
tt«me time, to conceal his intentions, Wolsey received 
Henry at a series of splendid entertainments, at which 
Anne outshone all the ladies of the court. 



• Metered, Hist, of the Low Countries, folio, 20. 



BILNEY'S PREACHING. 



847 



CHAPTER VII. 

Bilney 8 preaching — His arrest — Arthur's preaching and Imprison- 
ment — Bilney's examination — Contest between the jadge 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. 

While these passions were agitating Henry's pal- 
ace, the most moving scenes, produced by Christian 
faith, were stirring the nation. Bilney, animated by 
that courage which God sometimes gives to the weak- 
est 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.* To this testi- 
mony borne to the truth, he added his testimony against 
error. 11 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."f 

As soon as he descended from the pulpit, this pious 
scholar, with his friend Arthur, visited the neighboring 
towns and villages. "The Jews and Saracens would 
long ago have become believers," he once said at Wils- 
don, " 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. . . . Evce agnus Lei qui tollit peccata 
mundi." John 1 : 29. The poor monks, who were little 
versed in Scripture, had recourse to the Almanac to con 
vict the Bible of error. " St. Paul did rightly affirm," 

° Ut omnes primum peccata sua agnoscant et damnent, dcindc 
esuriant et sitiant justitiam illam Foxe, 4, p. 684. 

t Ibid., p. 627. 



848 HISTORY Off THE REFORMATION. 

Baid Friar John Brusierd, "that there is but one Media- 
tor 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 lorg 
upon the sun, that he can see nothing else."* 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."f Twice in fact did 
two monks pull him out of his pulpit. He was arrested 
and taken to London. 

Arthur, instead of fleeing, began to visit the flocka 
which his friend had converted. " Good people," said 
he, "if I should suffer persecution for the preacning 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 per- 
secutors put a man to death, the preaching of the gos- 
pel therefore is to be forsaken. Every Chi istian man, 
yea, every layman, is a priest. Let our adversaries 
preach by the authority of the cardinal ; otiiers 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 ;J and 
if they kill him, he is not a heretic, but a martyr."§ The 
priests were horrified at such doctrines. In their opin- 
ion, there was no God out of their church, no salvation 
ont of their sacrifices. Arthur was thrown into the same 
prison as Bilney. 

On the 27th of November, 1521, the caidinal and the 
archbishop of Canterbury, with a great number of bisk 
ops, divines, and lawyers, met in the chupter-house of 

• Foxe, 4, p. 629. f IWd., p. 630. X Ibid., p, 628. 

§ Collyer'g Church History, 2, p. 26. 



BILNEY'S EXAMINATION. 



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 examina- 
tion, when he rose, saying, " The affairs of the iealm 
call me away; all such as are found guilty you will 
oompel them to abjure, and those who rebel you will 
deliver over to the secular power." After a few ques- 
tions proposed by the bishop of London, the two accused 
men were led back to prison. 

Abjuration or death, that was Wolsey's order. But 
the conduct of the trial was confided to T onstall ; Bil- 
ney conceived some hope.* " Is it possible," he said to 
himself, " that the bishop of London, the friend of Eras* 
mus, 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 evange- 
list, having obtained paper and ink, set about writing 
to the bishop from his gloomy prison those admirable 
letters which have been transmitted to posterity. Ton- 
stall, 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 con- 
science 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, 

* In talein nunc me judicem incidisse gratulor, Foxe, 4, p. Q8& 



350 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



then?" said he. The doctor answered calmly, "Fiat 
judicium in nomine Domini. 99 * " Be quick," continued 
the bishop; "this is the last moment, and you will be 
condemned." " Hcec est dies quern fecit Dominus," an- 
swered Bilney; "exultemus et Icetemur in ea/" Psa. 
118 : 24. Upon this Tonstall took off his cap, and said, 
"In nomine patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. . . . Exsur* 
gat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus!" Psa. 68 : 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. 

" 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. 

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 ; every thing was 
died to shake the Cambridge doctor. His friends 
crowded to the prison ; he was overwhelmed with argu- 
ments and examples ; but an inward struggle, far more 
terrible than those without, agitated the pious Bilney. 
M W hosoever %vill save his soul shall lose it," Christ had 
9 ^et judgment t>e 4o«© in the nape of tke I^r4 



BILNEY'S FALL. 



851 



said. That selfish love of his soul which is found even 
in the advanced Christian — that self which after hib con- 
version 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 tie 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 ?"* His 
friends quitted him neither night nor day, and entan. 
gled by their fatal affection, he believed at last that he 
bad found a compromise which would set his conscience 
at rest. u I will preserve my life," he said, " to dedi- 
cate it to the Lord." This delusion had scarcely laid 
hold of his mind before his views were confused, his 
faith was veiled ; 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 while 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 ail 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."f 

On the following day, Sunday, December 8, 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 pul- 
pit exhorted him to repentance ; after which he was led 
back to prison. 

• Fose, 4, p. 688. f I*tfcner'* Sermon*, P*rfe. Soe., p 22fr 



862 HISTOBY OF THE BEFORMATION. 



What a solitude for the wretched man 1 At one time 
the cold darkness of his cell appeared to him as a burn- 
ing 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 
endeavored to console him ; but if they gave utterance 
to any of Christ's gentle promises, Bilney started back 
with affright, and shrunk to the farthest part of the 
dungeon, with a cry " as though a man had run him 
through the heart with a sword."* 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 I" was the only passage of Scrip- 
ture in harmony with his soul. His mind wandered, the 
blood froze in his veins, he sunk 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 ail who deny his truth." 

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 Ger- 
man reformers in the Low Countries, France, and Eng- 
land." 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 be- 
fore Tonstall. "You are charged," said the prelate, 
tr with having asserted that praise is due to God alone; 
and not to saints or creatures."f Bayfield acknowledged 
the charge to be true. " You are accused of maintain- 

° Latimer's Sermons, Parker's Society, p. 222. 

f That all laud and praise should be given to God alone Fcze, 



BAIMOND'3 NEW TESTAMENT. 353 



lug 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. 

The New Testaments however, sold by him and oth- 
ers, remained in England. At that time the bishops sub- 
scribed 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 bought up.* A scarcity of food was 
erelong added to the scarcity of the word of God ; for 
as tho cardinal was endeavoring to foment a war be- 
tween 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 has- 
tened 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 thpee bushels of 
wheat, England should have two of them." But none 
arrived, and the people were on the point of breaking 
out iuto violence, when a fleet of ships suddenly appear- 
ed 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 Rai- 
mond 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 him- 
self had embarked on board one of the ships with five 
hundred copies of his New Testament, f About Christ- 
mas, 1527, the book of God was circulated in England 
along with the bread that nourishes the body. But cer- 
tain priests and monks having discovered the Scriptures 

• Anderson's Annals of the Bible, 1, p. 168. 
f Foxe, 5, p. 27. 

23 



354 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



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 Bo- 
leyn, notwithstanding her smiling face, often withdiew 
to her closet at Greenwich or at Hampton Court to studj 
the gospel. Frank, courageous, and proud, she did not 
conceal the pleasure she found in such reading ; her bold* 
ness 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. 



POPERY INTERCEPTS THE GOSPEL. 865 



CHAPTER VIII. 

fhe Papacy intercepts the gospel— The king consults Sir Thomas 
More — Ecclesiastical conferences about the divorce — The uni- 
versities^ — Clarke — The nun of Kent — Wolsey decides to do the 
king's will — Mission to the pope — Four documents — Embar- 
rassment 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. 

The sun of the word of God, which daily grew 
brighter in the sky of the sixteenth century, was suffi- 
cient to scatter all the darkness in England ; but pop- 
ery, 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 neces- 
sary that the wall should be thrown down in order that 
the sun might penetrate freely among the Anglo-Saxon 
people. And now events were ripening in England des- 
tined to make a great breach in Popery. The negotia- 
tions of Henry VIII. with Clement VII. play an impor- 
tant 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 insure 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 favorite councillors about 
the divorce. There was one in particular whose ap- 
proval he coveted : this was Sir Thomas More. One 



S«56 HI8T0BY OP THE BEFORMA'lIOS. 

day as Erasmus' 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 with 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 
favor.* " I am not a theologian," said More, somewhat 
embarrassed; "your majesty should consult a council 
of doctors." 

Accordingly, by Henry's order, Warham assembled 
the most learned canonists at Hampton Court ; but 
weeks passed away before they could agree.f Most of 
them quoted in the king's favor those passages in Le- 
viticus (18 : 16 ; 20 : 21,) which forbid a man to take his 
brother's wife.\ But Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and 
the other opponents of the divorce, replied that, accord- 
ing to Deuteronomy, (25 : 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 gen- 
ealogies intact, until the coming of Christ. The Judai- 
cal dispensation has passed away ; but the law of Le- 
viticus, which is a moral law, is binding upon all men 
in all ages." 

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, Tou- 
louse, Louvain, Padua, and Bclogna, furnished with 
money to reward the foreign doctors for the time and 

• Laid the Bible open before me, and showed ine the words. 
Mere to Cromwell, Strype, 1, 2d part, p. 197. 

f Consulting from day to day, and time to time. Cavendish, 
p. 209. 

% Ex his doctoribus asseritur quod Papa non potest dispensare 
in primo gradu amnitatis. Burnet's Reform., 2, Records, p. 8, Loo 
don, 1841. 



THE HOLY MAID OP KENT. 



36? 



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. 

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-humor on all about him, at 
one time threatening Warham, and at another persecut- 
ing Pace. But fearing to oppose Henry openly, he sum- 
moned 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 ovfive more."* 

As the political party had failed, the clerical party 
set in motion a scheme of another kind. A young wom- 
an, 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 Booking, a monk of Canterbury, he turned the weak- 
ness cf 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 be- 
come rigid, her features distorted; violent convulsions 
shook her body, and strange unintelligible sounds fell 
from her lips, which the amazed bystanders 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 num- 
ber of Elizabeth's partisans. Rumors of the divorce 
having reached the saint's ears, an angel commanded her 
to appear before the cardinal. As soon as she stood in 

° Since his patience had already held out for eighteen years 
Collyer, 2, p. 24. 



858 HISTORY Otf flfcE BfcfcOfcMATlON. 



his presence, the color fled from her cheeks, her limbs 
trembled, and falling into an ecstacy, 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 di- 
vorce of the king. ... If you do not wield these three 
Bwords faithfully, God will lay it sore to your charge."* 
After these words the prophetess withdrew. 

But other influences were then dividing Wolsey's 
breast : hatred, which induced him . to oppose the di- 
vorce ; 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. 

Henry hastened to profit by this change. " Declare 
the divorce yourself," said he to Wolsey ; " has not the 
pope named you his vicar-general ?"f The cardinal was 
not anxious to raise himself so high. " If I were to de- 
cide the affair," said he, " the queen would appeal to the 
pope ; we must therefore either apply to the holy fathei 
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."J It was arranged to begin with the more 
regular attempt, and Gregory da Casale, Secretary 
Knight, and the prothonotary Gambara, were appoint- 
ed 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, 
firstly, a commission authorizing me to inquire into this 
matter ; secondly, his promise to pronounce the nullity of 

« Strype, vol. 1, part 1, p. 279. 

t 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 pon- 
tiff, and of getting his marriage annulled by the French bishops. 
As he was more powerful, he succeeded. 

% Quid possit clam fieri quoad forum conscientice. Collyet 2> 
p. 24. 



TfiE POPE CANNOT EBB. 



858 



Catherine's marriage with Henry, if we should find that 
her marriage with Arthur was consummated; and thirdly, 
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 insinu- 
ated that false representations, with regard to the con- 
summation 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 him- 
self 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 jailer and his benefactor ? 

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 errareP* But it was not possible to keep the 
pope a prisoner in Rome ; what then was to be done 
with him ? The viceroy of Naples proposed to Alercon 
the governor of St. Angelo to remove Clement to Gaeta ; 
but the affrighted colonel exclaimed, "Heaven forbid 
that I should drag after me the very body of God V* 
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 embarrass- 
ing to Charles than the pope at liberty. 

° The pope cannot err — a play upon the double meaning of the 
word errors 



860 HISTORY OV IBS BEflORMATlOtf. 



It was at this critical time that Francis Philip, Queeft 
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 de- 
signs 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 sis- 
ter of Hungary made a widow by the battle of Mohacz ; 
the Turks were encroaching upon his territories ; Lau- 
trec 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 pon- 
tiff 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 honor, the emperor did not hesi- 
tate ; 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 un- 
derstood 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 tow- 
ards 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. 

But how could the emperor win the heart of the poo* 



KftlGfiT IK ITALY. 



861 



tiff, filled as it was with bitterness and anger f He se- 
lected for this difficult mission a friar of great ability, 
Pe Angelis, general of the Spanish Observance, and or- 
dered him to proceed to the castle of St. Angelo, under 
the pretext of negotiating the liberation of the holy fa- 
ther. 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 deliver- 
ance 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 ;* and then he added 
immediately, "The emperor is determined to maintain 
the rights of his aunt, and will never consent to the 
divorce."f "If you are a good shepherd to me," wrote 
Charles to the pope with his own hand on the 22d of 
November, "I will be a good sheep to you." Clement 
Bmiled as he read these words ; he understood his posi- 
tion : the emperor had need of the priest, Charles was at 
his captive's feet ; Clement was saved I The divorce 
was a rope fallen from the skies which could not fail to 
drag him out of the pit ; he had only to cling to it qui- 
etly in order to reascend his throne. Accordingly from 
that hour Clement appeared less eager to quit the cas- 
tle than Charles to liberate him. "So long as the di- 
vorce 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. 

Meantime Knight, the envoy of the impatient mon- 
arch, 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 prothono- 

° La Caesarea Majesta si come grandamente desidera la libera* 
tione de nostro signer, cosi efficacemente la manda. Capituli, eta 
Le Grand, 3, p. 48. 

f That in any wise he should not consent to the same State 
Papers, 7, p. 29. 

HI* of Bet, Vol. Y. 



862 HISTOBt OF THE BEtf OEMATION. 



tary ; " but the general of the Franciscans hopes to ter> 
minate his captivity in a few days.* Continue your 
journey," he added. Knight could not do so without 
great danger. He was told at Poligno, sixty miles from 
the metropolis, that if he had not a safe-conduct he could 
not reach Rome without exposing his life ; Knight halt- 
ed. 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, November 25, protected by a violent storm 
of wind and rain,f Henry's envoy entered Rome at ten 
o'clock without being observed, and kept himself con- 
cealed. 

It was impossible to speak with Clement, for the 
emperor's orders were positive. Knight therefore be- 
gan 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. J " Good 1" 
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. "I>on Aler- 
con 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 bot- 
tom, but to no purpose ; the English agent had es- 
caped.^ 

0 Quod sperabat intra paucos dies auferre suae Sanctitati squalen 
lam et tenebras. State Papers, 7, p. 13. 

f Veari trobelous with wynde and rayne, and therefore mora 
mete for our voyage. Ibid., p. 16. 

X Eeponed the same saufly, as Gambara showed unto me. Ib., 
p. 17. 

§ I was not passed out of Borne, by the spaoe of two hours, an 



THE KING'S HEMOKSE. 



868 



Knight's safety was not the true motive which in- 
duced 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, 1521, was the day on which 
Clement's imprisonment would terminate ; but he pre- 
ferred 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 re- 
laxed, 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 Cathe- 
rine, 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 vexa- 
tion, and even among the gay conversation of the court, 
deep sighs would escape from his bosom. He had fre- 
quent interviews with Wolsey. "I regard the safety 
of my soul above all things,"* he said; "but I am con- 
cerned also for the peace of my kingdom. For a long 
while an unceasing remorse has been gnawing at my 
conscience,! and my thoughts dwell upon my marriage 

two hundred Spaniards invaded and searched the house. Burnet, 
Records, 2, p. 12. 

° Deumque primo et ante omnia ac animse suae quietem et salu« 
torn respiciens. Burnet's Reformation, 2, Records, p. 7. 

f Longo jam tempore intimo suae conscientue remorsu. [bid, 



864 HISTOBY 0* THE REFORMATION 



with unutterable sorrow * 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.f 
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 win- 
ning heaven." 

And indeed he redoubled his exertions. He wrote 
to Sir Gregory da Casale on the 5th of December, 1521, 
" You will procure an audience of the pope at any price. 
Disguise yourself, appear before him as the servant of 
some nobleman,J 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." 

Wolsey saw clearly that it was essential to repre- 
sent the divorce to Clement VII. as a means likely to 
secure the safety of the popedom. The cardinal there- 
fore wrote again to Da Casale on the 6th of December, 
M Night and day I revolve in my mind the actual condi- 
tion of the church, § 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 pre- 
vailed upon to undertake the defence of the holy father. 
This was no easy matter, for his majesty is strongly 

• Ingenti cum molestia cordisque perturbatione. Burnet's Ref< 
onnation, 2, Records, p. 7. 

f Qraviusque a Deo supplicium expavescit. Burnet's Reforma* 
tfon, 2, Records, p. 8. 

% Mutato habitu et tanquam alicujus minister. Ibid. 

§ Dieque ac noctu mente volvens quo facto. State Papers, 7 t 

p. ia 



WOLSEY'8 ALTERNATIVE. 



365 



attached to the emperor ;* however, I set about my task. 
I told the king that his holiness was ready to satisfy 
him ; I staked my honor ; I succeeded. ... To save the 
pope, my master will sacrifice his treasures, subjects, 
kingdom, and even his life.f ... I therefore conjure his 
holiness to entertain our just demand." 

Never before had such pressing entreaties been made 
to a pope. 

• Adeo tenaciter Caesari adhaerebat. State Papers, 7, p. 13. 
f Usque ad mortem. Ibid., p. 19. 



866 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATIOH- 



CHAPTER IX. 

The English envoys at Orvieto — Their oration to the pope — Clement 
gains time — The envoys and Cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor — Strafe* 
agem of the pope — Knight discovers it and returns — The trans- 
formations 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. 

The envoys of the king of England appeared in the 
character of the saviors 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 pre- 
cipitous 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 Cath- 
erine's nephew ? The pope's mind was utterly bewil- 
dered by the demand of the two envoys. He recovered 
however : to reject the powerful hand extended to him 
by England was not without its dangei ; and as he knew 
well 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/ 7 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 favor of the august prince whom we 
represent, and who has always been the shield of the 
faith. But alas, this monarch, the impregnable bulwark 



CLEMENT EMBARRASSED. 



861 



of your holiness, is himself the prey of tribulations 
almost equal to your own. His conscience torn by re- 
morse, his crown without an heir, his kingdom without 
security, his people exposed once more to perpetual dis- 
orders ; , . . nay, the whole Christian world given up to 
the most cruel discord.* . . . Such are the consequences 
of a fatal union which God has marked with his displeas- 
ure. . . . 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.f If your holiness puts an 
end to such wretchedness by annulling his unlawful 
marriage, you will attach his majesty by an indissolu- 
ble 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." 

Clement was cruelly embarrassed. His policy con- 
sisted in holding the balance between the two princes, 
and he was now called upon to decide in favor 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 favor- 
able 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 prom- 
ise now, how can I persuade the king that you will keep 
it some future day ?" J Da Casale thought the time had 
come to strike a decisive blow. " What evils," he ex- 
claimed, " what inevitable misfortunes your refusal will 

0 Discordiae crudelissimae per omnem christianum orbem. State 
Papers, 7, p. 19. 

t Nonnulla sunt secreta S. D. N. secreto exponenda et non cre- 
denda scriptis . . . ob morbos nounullos quibus absque remedio regi- 
na laborat. Ibid. 

X Perform the promise once broken. Burnet's Ref. 2, Records, 
p. 18. 



868 



HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



create ! . . . The emperor thinks only of deprfring the 
church of its power, and the king of England alone has 
sworn to maintain it." Then speaking lower, more slow- 
ly, and d celling upon every word, he continued, " We 
fear that his majesty, reduced to such extremities , , . <rf 
the two evils will choose the least* and supported by the 
puri ty 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 

y our holiness indulge in a false security which will inev- 

itably drag you into the abyss Read all . . . remark 

all . . . divine all . . . take note of all.f Most holy 

father, this is a question of life and death." And Da 
Casale's tone said more than his words. 

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 tho 
subject . . . and then will inform you." 

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 dep- 
uties of his affection for Henry VIII., and they, in the 
fulness of their gratitude, laid before him the four docu- 
ments 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 

** Ex duobus malis minus malum eligat. State Papers, 7, 
p. 20. 

f Ut non gravetur, cuncta legere, et bene notare. Ibid 

18. 



THE POPE'S STRATAGEM. 



369 



signature.* Recovering themselves, they rejoined, "All 
that we require is a competent commission." On his 
part, the pope wrote Henry a letter, in which he .man- 
aged to say nothing.f 

Of the four required documents there were two on 
whose immediate despatch Knight and Da Casale insist- 
ed : 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 relig- 
ious 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 VIIL, and ran thus : " We accord to 
you, in case your marriage with Catherine shall be de- 
clared null, | free liberty to take another wife, provided 
she have not been the wife of your brother." The Eng- 
lishman was duped by the Italian. " To my poor judg- 
ment," he sa?d, "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 mysti- 
fied, 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 

° Alia nulla re esset opus, prseterquam ejus Sanctitatis signatu- 
ra. State Papers, 7, p. 29. 

f Charissiine in Christo fili, etc., dated December 7, 1627. 
Ibid. 

| Ma.trimonium cum Catharioa nullum f lisse et esse declarari 
Herbert's Henry VIII. p. 280. 



370 HISTOBY OP THE BEFOBMATION. 



which Rome, even in its greatest weakness, could not 
easily dupe. 

It had now become necessary to elude the commit 
sion. While the king's envoys wern departing in good 
spirits, reckoning on the document tnat was to follow 
them, the general of the Spanish Observance reiterated 
to the pontiff in every tone, " Be careful to givs no doo» 
ument authorizing 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 ol 
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 diplo- 
matists have often been churchmen. The act b^ing thus 
drawn up, the pope despatched three copies, to Knight, 
to Da Casale, and to Gambara. Knight was near Bo- 
logna when the courier overtook him. He was stupe- 
fied, and taking post-horses, returned with all haste to 
0 r vieto.* Gambara proceeded through France to England 
with the useless dispensation which the pope had granted. 

Knight had thought to meet with more good faith at 
the court of the pope than with kings, and he had beep 
outwitted. What would Wolsey and Henry say of his 
folly ? His wounded self-esteem began to make him be- 
lieve all that Tyndale and Luther said of the popedom. 
The former had just published the "Obedience or a 
Christian Man," and the "Parable of the Wicked Mam- 
mon," in which he represented Rome as one of the trans- 
formations of antichrist. "Antichrist," said he in the 
latter treatise, "is not a man that should suddenly ap- 
pear 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 over- 
come 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, 

• Burnet's Beformation, Becords, 2, p. 18. 



TBOUBLES OF THE POPE. 



871 



cardinals, and bishops have gotten their new names, but 
the thing is all one. Even so now, when we have utter- 
ed," 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 seek- 
eth new holes to hide himself in, and changeth himself 
into a thousand fashions."* 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. Eng- 
land was to have many such lessons, and thus by degrees 
learn to set Rome aside for the sake of her own glory 
and prosperity. 

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 pil- 
laging towns and castles in our neighborhood."}* . . . 
Wretch that I am 1 I have not a friend except the king 
your master, and he is far away. ... If I should do 

any thing now to displease Charles, I am a lost man 

To sign the commission would be to sign an eternal rup- 
ture with him." But Knight and Da Casale pleaded so 
effectually with cardinal Sanctorum Quatuor, and so 
pressed Clement, that the pontiff, without the know- 
ledge 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 Eng- 
land ; he is the master of my destiny." He then began 
to weep,J and seemed ready to faint?- Knight, forget- 
ting his vexation, promised Clement that the king would 
do every thing to save him. "Ah," said the pope 
" there is one effectual means." " What is that f" in 

• Tyndale, Doctr. Tr. pp. 42, 43. 

f The imperialists do daily spoil castles and towns about Borne J 
. . . they have taken within three days two castles lying within til 
miles of this. Burnet's Bef. vol. 2, Becords, p. 13. 

J Gum suspiriis et lacrymis. Ibid. p. 12. 



872 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



quired 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 commissioL. ,, * 
"Nothing is easier," replied the envoys ; "wo will go and 
hasten his arrival." 

Clement was not even now at ease. The safety ol 
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 excep- 
tion, of supporting the cause of Luther to gratify a crim- 
inal ambition. f The pope reflected, and withdrawing 
his word, promised to give the commission when Lau- 
trec 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,"J said 
Clement VII. to Knight ; " if he begins the process im- 
mediately he receives it, I am undone for ever."§ 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 four thousand 
crowns, which he refused, repaired to Lautrec, to beg 

° And by this color he would cover the matter. Burnet's Ref. 
7ol. 2, Records, p. 12. 

| Non potest Sua Sanctitas sibi persuadere ipsos principes (ut 
forte aliqui jactant) assunipturos sectam Lutheranam contra eccle- 
Biam. State papers, 7, p. 47. J Ibid. p. 36. 

§ Is fully in your puissance with publishing of the commission 
to destroy for ever. Ibid. p. 3$. 



ANOTHER CARDINAL WANTED. 373 



him to constrain the pope to sign a document which was 
already on its way to England. 

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 V 9 
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 Lon- 
don with or without Wolsey. 

The latter agreed to the measure ; it is even possible 
that he was the 6rst to suggest it, for he feared to bear 
alone the responsibility of so hateful an inquiry. Ac- 
cordingly, on the 21th 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 favor ;* 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 tow- 
ards him."f 

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 pain- 
ful journeys, was in a very bad humor. He determined 
to permit Gambara to carry the two documents to Eng- 
land ; to commission Da Casale, who had not left the 
pope's neighborhood, to solicit the despatch of the le- 
gate ; and as regarded himself, to go and wait for further 

° Eruditus, indifferens, tractabilis, de regia majestate bene me* 
rendi cupidus. State Papers, 7, p. 33. 

f Regia majestas sumptus, labores, atque molestias liberalissimd 
oompenset. Ibid. p. 3*. 



8t4 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



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."* 

When Da Casale reached Bologna, he pressed Lau- 
tree to go and constrain the pontiff to sign the act which 
Gambara was already bearing to England. On receiv- 
ing the new despatches he returned in all haste to Orvie 
to, 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 sat- 
isfied ? " The mission you desire would be full of dan- 
gers," 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, f 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 an- 
other wife without any further ceremony ;| 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 1 send ?" asked Clement. " Da Monte ? he cannot 
move. De Caecis ? he is at Naples. Ara Coeli ? he has 

the gout. Piccolomini ? he is of the imperial party 

Canipeggio would be the best ; but he is at Rome, where 
ue supplies my place, and cannot leave without peril to 
th<! church." And then with some emotion he added, 
I throw myself into his majesty's arms. The emperor 

• Burnet' 8 Ref. vol. 2, Records, p. 13. 

f Null us doctor in mundo est, qui de hac re melius decerns P9 
possit quam ipse rex. Ibid. p. 14. 
X Aliam uxorem ducat. Ibid. 



END OF THE CAMPAIGN. 



875 



will never forgive what I am doing. If be 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"* 

Da Casale hastened to forward to London the result 
of the conference. Clement being unable to un*ta the 
knot, requested Henry to cut it. Will this prince hesi 
fcate to employ so easy a means, the pope — Clement de- 
clared it himself — being willing to ratify every thing ? 

Here closes Henry's first campaign in the territories 
of the popedom. We shall now see the results of so ' 
many efforts. 

• Vocabit eum ad concilium, vel nihil aliud quaeret, nisi ut eum 
♦ami statu et vita privet. Burnet's Bef. vol. 2, Records, p. 26. 



376 HISTORY OF THE KEFORMATIG2L 



CHAPTER X. 

Disappointment in England — War declared against Charles V. — 
Wolsey desires to get him deposed by the pope—A new scheme 
—Embassy of Foxe and Gardiner — Their arrival at Or vie to — 
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 ihs 
key — Gardiner's proposition — Difficulties and delays of the cardi- 
nals — Gardiner's last blows — Reverses of Charles V. in Italy — 
The pope's terror and concession —The commission granted — Wol- 
sey demands the engagement — A loophole — The pope's distress. 

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,"* said Wol- 
sey. "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 ap- 
peal 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 mock- 
ery," concluded both king and minister. 

What was to be done next ? The only way to moke 
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 ol 
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." 

• Nullius sit roboris vel effectns State Papers, 7, p. 50 



WOLSEY'S NEW PROJECT. 



817 



A mere declaration of war was not enough for Wol* 
aey; the bishop of Bayonne, ambassador from France, 
seeing him one day somewhat excited,* whispered in his 
ear, "In former times popes have deposed emperors for 
smaller offences." Charles' deposition would have de- 
livered the king of France from a troublesome rival; 
>ut Du Bellay, fearing to take the initiative in so bold 
an enterprise, suggested the idea to the cardinal. Wol- 
sey reflected : such a thought had never before occurred 
to him. Taking the ambassador aside to a window, he 
there swore stoutly r , 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." StafEleo, dean of 
the Rota, was then in London, and still burning with 
resentment against the author of the Sack of Rome, he 
favorably received the suggestions Wolsey made to 
him ; and finally, the envoys 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. 

The king's councillors began to seek for less heroic 
nv ans. " 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 kiag of England," exclaimed the proud Tudor, "we 
shall find some other way to set him at ease."f Thus, 

• Du Bellay to Francis I. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 64 
t Burnet's Reformation, 1, p. 50. 



878 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



at the first contradiction, Henry placed his hand on his 
sword, and threatened to sever the ties which bound hia 
kingdom to the throne of the Italian pontiff. 

" I have hit it," said Wolsey at length ; " we must 
combine the two plans — 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.* A new mission was decided upon for the 
accomplishment of this bold design. 

Wolsey, annoyed by the folly of Knight and his col- 
leagues, 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 favor, and above all, a 
good Romanist, which at Rome was not without its ad- 
vantage. Gardiner was in small the living image of 
his master; and hence the cardinal sometimes styled 
him the half of himself. ,f Edward Fox the chief almo- 
ner was joined with him — a moderate, influential man, a 
particular friend of Henry's, and a zealous advocate of 
the divorce. Foa 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 de- 
fend him against the emperor ; and to the cardinals that 
their services will be nobly rewarded. J If that does not 
suffice, let the energy of your words be such as to excite 
a wholesome fear in the pontiff." 

Fox and Gardiner, after a gracious reception at Paris 
February 23d, by Francis L, arrived at Orvieto on the 

• Non obstantibus quibuscunque decretis revocatoriis praesentie 
oonuxissionis nostras. Burnet, Records, 2, p. 17. 
f Mei dimidium. Ibid. p. 15. 

X Money to present the cardinals. Strype's Mem. 1, p, 187. 



THE ENVOYS AT ORVIETO. 879 



20th of March, after many perils, and with their dress in 
such disorder, that no one could have taken them for 
ambassadors of Henry VIII. " What a city !" they ex- 
claimed as they passed through its streets ; "what ruins, 
what misery 1 It is indeed truly called Orvieto — urbs 
vetusP The state of the town gave them no very gracd 
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."* 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 ;f 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 captiv- 
ity at Rome than at liberty here."! 

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, March 22, 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 rub- 
bish lying about, passed through three chambers whose 
ceilings had fallen in, whose windows were curtainless, 
and in which thirty persons, "riffraff, were standing 

° Borrowing of divers men so much as might furnish three beda 
8trype's Mem, 1, p. 139. \ Ibid. 

% State Papers, 7, p. 63. 



380 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



against the bare walls for a garnishment."* This was 
the pope's court. 

At length the ambassadors reached the pontiffs 
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 documenf 
were not sufficient, you would willingly give a better. 
It is that favor the king now desires." The pope with 
embarrassment strove to soften his refusal. " I am in- 
formed," 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 firm- 
ness, " The king truly desires 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."f 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. 

The next day the English envoys had hardly appear- 
ed 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 an- 
other 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 Deuter- 
onomy coming after Leviticus, we are bound by the lat- 
ter. The honor of Catherine and the emperor is at stake, 
and the divorce would give rise to a terrible war."| The 
pope continued speaking, and whenever the Englishmen 
attempted to reply, he bade them be silent, and kept on 

• Strype, 1, p. 189. 

f The cardinal's judgment as to the good qualities of the gentle- 
woman. Ibid. p. 141. 

% Quia piaestabit ne hoc divortium magni alicujus belli cauaam 
praebeat. Sanderus, p. 26. 



THE POPE THREATENED. 



381 



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 pre- 
senting 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 Gar- 
diner. " Yes, yes, I know it," said the pope. All his 
efforts tended to protract the business. 

On the 28th of March, the ambassadors were con» 
ducted to the room in which the pope slept ; the cardi- 
nals 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.* " Master Gar- 
diner, now tell me what you want." " There is no ques- 
tion between us but one of time. You promised to rat- 
ify 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,f he will have recourse to a 
remedy which I will not name, but which will not fail in 
its effect." 

The pope and his councillors looked at one another 
in silence ;J they had understood him. The imperious 
Gardiner, remarking the effect which he had produced, 
then added in an absolute tone, " We have our instruc- 
tions, and are determined to keep to them." "I am 
ready to do every thing compatible with my honor," 
exclaimed Clement in alarm. " What your honor would, 
not permit you to grant," said the proud ambassador, 
" the honor 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; 

° In medio semicirculi. Strype, Records, 1, p. 81. 

f Promise u® plebis. Ibid. p. 82. 

J Every man looked on other and so stayed. Jbid. 



382 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



which had commenced with a storm, finished with a 
gleam of sunshine. 

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 Cunclator, 
" Bis dot qui cito da/,"* said Gardiner sharply, who ob* 
served 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 Max- 
imus saved Rome," rejoined Gardiner ; "you will destroy 
it by yours."f "Alas," exclaimed the pope, "if I say 
the king is right, I shall have to go back to prison."^ 
"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 bal- 
ance. "You maybe sure that I shall do every thing 
for the best," replied the modern Fabius. With these 
words the conference terminated. 

Such were the struggles of England with the pope- 
dom— struggles which were to end in a definitive rup- 
ture. 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, Si- 
monetta, Stafflleo, Paul auditor of the Rota, and Gam- 
bara. " It is impossible," said the cardinals, " to grant 
a decretal commission in which the pope pronounces de 
«ure in favor of the divorce, with a promise of confirma- 
tion de factor Gardiner insisted ; but no persuasion 
" neither dulce nor poynante,"§ could move the ponti0 
The envoy judged the moment had come to discharg 
his strongest battery. " 0 perverse race," said he to the 

° He gives twice who gives quickly. 

f In Fabio Maximo qui rem Romanam cunctando restituit 
Strypo, p. 90. 

% Materia novas captivitatis. Ibid. p. 86. § Ibid. p. 114* 



THE GENERAL COMMISSION. 888 



pontiffs ministers, "instead of being harmless as doves, 
you are as full of dissimulation and malice as serpents ; 
promising every thing, but performing nothing.* Eng- 
land will be driven to believe that God has taken from 
you the key of knowledge, and that the laws of the 
pcpes, ambiguous to the popes themselves, are only lit 
to be cast into the fire.f The king has hitherto restrain- 
ed 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. Ac- 
cording to the maxims of the canon law, the pope carries 
all laws in the tablets of his hearty 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 condem- 
nation 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 an- 
other 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,§ " Would to God that I were dead." Clement 
employed tears as a political engine. 

" 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 de- 
mand 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 seutence of the legates without delay. Fox 

° Pleni omni dolo et versatione et dissimulatione. Verbis omnia 
pollicentur reipsa nihil praestant. Strype, p. 98. 

f Digna esse quae mandentur flammis pontificia jura. Ibid. 
X Pontifex habet omnia jura in scrinio pectoris. Ibid p 99. 
§ Ibid. p. 100. 



884 HISTOBY OP THE BEFOBMATIOK. 



and Gardiner then presented to Siraonetta 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;* show it Sanctorum Quatuor." The next morn- 
ing they carried the draft to that cardinal. " How long 
has it been the rule for the patient to write the prescrip- 
tion? I always thought it was the physician's busi- 
aess." " No one knows the disease so well as the pa- 
tient," replied Gardiner ; " and this disease may be of 
such a nature that the doctor cannot prescribe the rem- 
edy without taking the patient's advice." Sanctorum 
Quatuor read the prescription, and then returned it, say- 
ing, " It is not bad, with the exception of the beginning.^ 
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. 

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 dis- 
dainfully 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, J the en- 
voys, more discontented than ever, quitted the pope at 
one in the morning. 

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 Simon- 
etta 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.§ " We are deceived," exclaimed 
he, "you are laughing at us. This is not the way to 

0 The matter was good saving in the latter end. Strype, p 102. 
f The beginning pleased him not. Ibid. p. 103. 
j lncalescente disputatione. Ibid. p. 104. 
§ Here began a new tragedy. Ibid. p. 105, 



SINISTER PREDICTIONS. 



385 



gain the favor of princes. Water mixed with wine 
spoils it ;* your corrections nullify our document. These 
ignorant and suspicious priests have spelled over our 
draft as if a scorpion was hidden under every word.f 
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 ; J 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."§ Then, turning to Clement, the 
English envoy added, "Your holiness will have to an- 
swer for this." The pope sighed and wiped away his 
tears. " It was God's pleasure," continued Gardiner, 
whose tone became more threatening every minute, 
H 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 arc insult- 
ing the defender of the faith. . . . You are going to lose 
the favor of the only monarch who protects you, and the 
apostolical chair, already tottering, will fall into dust, 
and disappear entirely amid the applause of all Chris- 
tendom." 

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 to Naples. The French general was 
following up this wretched army of Charles V., decimat- 
ed 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 Utter 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 de- 
nounced the danger which threatened the popedom, be* 

• Vinum conspurcat infusa aqua. Strype, p. 106. 
f Putantes sub omni verbo latere scorpionem. Ibid. 
{ Praetendere pugno camera. Ibid. 
§ Dulcibus siren urn vocibus mean tare. Ibid. 

BtM <S*l, Vol V. 2 K 



886 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

fore 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 
bis 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,* made a 
few trivial excuses, and dismissed Henry's ministers. It 
was an hour past midnight. 

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 pol- 
icy and cunning. 

On the next day, the tempest having thoroughly 
abated,f 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 Hen- 
ry's marriage, to pronounce judicially the sentence of 
divorce, but without noise or display of judgment ;$ 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 commis- 
sion, without the clauses of confirmation and revocation, 

• Compositis affectibus. Strype, p. 106. 
f The divers tempests passed over. Ibid. 
\ Bine strepitu et figura judicii sententiam divortii judicialitei 
preferendam. Rymer, Fcedera, 6, pars 2, p. 95. 



CLEMENT'S PEBPLEXIT*. 881 



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 dis- 
creet diplomatist, 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 docu- 
ment. 

But one storm followed close upon another. Fox 
had not tong quitted Orvieto, when new letters arrived 
from Wolsey, demanding the fourth of the acts previous- 
ly 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 sea- 
son ;" the verbal promise of the pope counted for noth- 
ing ; this document must be had, whether the pope was 
ill, dying, or dead.* " Ego et Bex meus y his majesty and 
I command you," said Wolsey ; "this divorce is of more 
consequence to us than twenty popedoms."f The Eng- 
lish envoy renewed the 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. 

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 commis- 
sion had not long been despatched before he repented. 
Full of distress, he paced the ruined chambers of his old 

• In casu mortis pontificis, quod Deus avertat. Burnet, Be©- 
ords, p. 28. 

f The thing which the king's highness and I more esteem than 
tnrenty papalities. Ibid. p. 25. 



838 HISTORY OF THE RE FORM ATI OH. 



palace, and imagined he saw banging over his head that 
terrible sword of Charles V., whose edge he had already 
felt. "Wretch that I am," said he ; "cruel wolves sur- 
round 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 Ferra- 
ra. . . . They have cast lots upon my vesture.* . . . 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 men- 
aces 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 1 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. . . , Wretch- 
ed man that I am, how cruel is my perplexity, and around 
me I can see nothing but horrible confusion/'f 

9 Novo fcedere inito super vestem suam miserunt sortem. 
fitrype, Records, 1, p. 109. 

f His holiness nndeth himself in a marvellous perplexity and 
oontaion. Ibid. p. 108. 



BOX'S SEPCM TO BBH&X. 389 



CHAPTER XI. 

foz'u report to Henry and Anne — Wolsey's impression— He de 
mands the decretal — One of the cardinal's petty manoeuvres- 
He sets his conscience at rest — Gardiner fails at Rome — Wol 
sey'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. 

During this time Fox was making his way to Eng- 
land. On the 21th of April he reached Paris ; on the 2d 
of May he landed at Sandwich, and hastened to Green- 
wich, where he arrived the next day at five in the even* 
ing, 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. 

" 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 ; the© 
that from Staffileo, which was put on one side ; and last- 
ly, 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 com* 
missioners." " Excellent 1" 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 ju* 



800 HtSTOBf Of THB Blf ORMATIOH. 



tice of your cause," he said in conclusion, " and the caf< 
dinal's letter has convinced him that my lady is worthy 
of the throne of England." " Make your report to Wol- 
sey 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 learned that Pox had brought the commission 
only, he became alarmed at the task imposed upon him. 
"What a misfortune 1" 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 Gardi- 
ner has surpassed himself," said the crafty, supple car- 
dinal ; " what a man, what an inestimable treasure, what 
a jewel in our kingdom 1"* 

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-humor would infallibly recoil on Wol- 
sey ; so putting a good face on a bad matter, he rumt 
nated 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, f and the 
thought of the accidents to which the life of man is ex- 
posed. Let his holiness then pronounce the divorce him- 

° 0 non sestimandum thesaurum margaritamque regni nostri. 
Strype, Records, 1, p. 119. 

f Justissime obstruere ora calumniantium et temere disaentien- 
tium. Ibid., p. 120. 



891 



self ; we engage on our part to keep his resolution se- 
cret. 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 re- 
sponsibility of the divorce with him. 

This was not all : while reading the engagement^ 
Wolsey discovered the loop-hole which had escaped Gar- 
diner, 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 pleas- 
ure ; we must therefore find some good way to obtain an- 
other. 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 fur- 
ther, 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."* 

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 ambassa- 
dor, to draw up another of a different tenor. The " politic 
handling " of the cardinal legate, which was not very un- 
like forgery, throws a disgraceful light on the policy of 
the sixteenth century. 

Wolsey read this letter to the chief almoner ; and 

• Burnet, Eeoords, p. 80. 



m% ftlSfOlt? Of TfiS BBf O&MAf 



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 honor or my dis- 
grace the condemnation of my soul or my everlasting 
merit, I will listen solely to the voice of my conscience,* 
and I shall act in such a manner as to be able to rendet 
©n account to God without fear." 

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 Sun- 
day, he said to the king in the presence of Fox, Bell, 
Wolman, and Tuke, " I am bound to your royal persou 
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.f 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 blind- 
ness or impudence ? He may have been sincere in the 
words he addressed to Henry ; at the bottom of his heart 
cie may have desired to set the pope above the king, and 
the church of Rome above the kingdom of England ; and 
diis desire may have appeared to him a sublime virtue, 
duch as would hide a multitude of sins. What the pub- 
lic conscience would have called treason was heroism to 
the Romish priest. This zeal for the Papacy is some- 
times met with in conjunction with the most flagrant im- 
morality. 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. J Henry $ 
who thought he knew his man, received these holy dec- 
larations without alarm; and the cardinal, having thus 
eased his conscience, proceeded boldly in his iniquities. 
It seems, however, that the inward reproaches which he 
silenced in public, had their revenge in secret. One of his 

* Keclamante conscientia. Strype, Records, I, p. 124. 

f Extrema quueque . . . contra conscientiam suam. Ibid,, p. 12& 

I To my great mer vail and no less joy and comfort. Ibid. 



m 



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 honor with a good conscience? The 
cardinal having read the letter, dashed out the four last 
words.* Conscience has a sting from which none can 
escape, not even a Wolsey. 

However, Gardiner lost no time in Italy. When he 
met Campeggio — to whom Henry VIII. had given a pal- 
ace 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 author- 
ity to crush Protestantism in Germany, seemed bound to 
undertake a mission that would save Romanism in Brit- 
ain. 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 inform- 
ed 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, per- 
ceiving 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 consec- 
utive letters. The king, astonished at his minister's im- 
pudence, exclaimed profanely, " 0 Lord Jesu, the man in 
whom I had most confidence told me quite the contrary.* 
• Burnet'g Ref., vol. 1, p. 41. 



6U HiSTO&t Of BMORMATIOS. 



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 sea- 
eon of his favor 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 fur- 
ther need of them. 

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 treas- 
ury, make war upon my friends, consume my forces, . . . 
and for whom ? ... for a heartless priest who, consider- 
ing neither the exigencies of my honor, nor the peace of 
my conscience, nor the prosperity of my kingdom, nor 
the numerous benefits which I have lavished on him, re- 
fuses me a favor which he ought, as the common father 
of the faithful, to grant even to an enemy. . . . Hypo- 
crite 1 . . . You cover yourself with the cloak of friend- 
ship, you flatter us by crafty practices,* but you give us 
only a bastard document, and you say, like Pilate, It mat- 
ters little to me if this king perishes, and all his king- 
dom with him ; take him and judge him according to 
your law, • . . I understand you ; . . . you wish to entan- 
gle us in the briers,f 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." 

Such was the language then heard at the court of 
England, says a historian.^ The monks and priests be- 
gan 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, 

• By crafty means and under the face and visage of entire am 
Ity. Strype, 1, p. 166. 

f To involve and cast us so in the briers and fetters. Ibid. 
t Strype. 



85)5 



whsa his son-in-law Roper, now become a warm Papist, 
exclaimed, " Happy kingdom of England, where no her* 
etic 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 peacea- 
bly to ourselves. 1 ' Roper angrily replied,* "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 relig- 
ious liberty, and by that means placing civil liberty on 
an immovable foundation. 

Henry himself grew wiser by degrees. He began to 
have doubts about the Roman hierarchy, and to ask him- 
self whether a priest king, embarrassed in all the polit- 
ical complications of Europe, could be the head of the 
church of Jesus Christ. Pious individuals in his king- 
dom recognized in Scripture and in conscience a law su- 
perior to the law of Rome, and refused to sacrifice at the 
command of the church their moral convictions, sanc- 
tioned by the revelation of God. The hierarchical sys- 
tem, 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 ultra- 
montane socialism. " If the Christian consents to this 
enormous demand of the hierarchy," said the most en- 
lighted men ; " if he renounces his own notions of g<x>d 
and evil in favor 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 
* My uncle said in a rage. More's life, p. 132. 



obey the clerical voice which approves of it, by that 
very act he renounces truth, duty, and even God him- 
self." 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 dia- 
satisfied ; 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 after* 
wards eradicate it. He immediately made every exer- 
tion 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 June 1, alleged the weak 
state of his health, the robbers who infested the roads, 
the wars and rumors of wars then afloat. " Our destiny 
leads us," he said ; " let us yield to it."* It is a fortunate 
thing for England that Erasmus was not its reformer. 

Wolsey noted this movement of his master's, and re- 
solved 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 : "1 
would obtain the decretal bull with my own blood, if pos- 
sible,"f 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 ;" J an infal- 
lible means of stimulating the secretary's zeal. 

This was the last effort of Henry VIII. Bourbon and 
thi 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, as- 
sembling at the pope's call, discussed the matter, mixing 

• Fatia agimur, fatis cedendum. Erasm. Epp., p. 1032. 
f Ut vel proprio sanguine id vellemus posse a S. D. N. imp* 
trare Burnet, Records, 2, p. 19. 

X Neither should Gardiner ever return. Strype, 1, p. 167* 



CLEMENT GBANTS EVER* THING. 89? 



political interests with the affairs of the church.* 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 de- 
cided the question ; the pope suddenly felt a great sym- 
pathy for Wolsey and for the English church ; the em- 
peror was beaten, therefore he was wrong. Clement 
granted every thing. 

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 innu- 
merable delays. Next, on the 8th of June, the pope, then 
at Viterbo, gave a new commission, by which he confer- 
red 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 matri- 
monial ties.f A few days later he signed the famous 
decretal by which he himself annulled the marriage be- 
tween 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 Chris- 
tendom ; if he should recover it, the bull would be burnt.J 
In fact the flames did actually consume some time after- 
wards this decree which Clement had wetted with his 
tears as he put his name to it. Finally, on the 23d of 
July, the pope signed a valid engagement, by which he 
declared beforehand that all retractation of these acts 
should be null and void.§ Campeggio and Gardiner de- 
ft Negotia ecclesiastica politicis rationibus interpolates. San- 
ders, p. 27. f Ad alia vota commigrandi. Herbert, p. 262. 

% State Papers, 7, p. 78. Dr. Lingard acknowledges the exist- 
ence of this bull and the order to burn it. 

§ Si (quod absit) aliquid contra praemissa faciamus, illud pro 
<ttfl0O, irrito, inani et vacuo omnino haberi volumus. Herbert, p. 250. 



898 HISTOBY. OF THE BEFOBM AVION. 



parted. Charles' defeat was as complete at Rome as at 
Naples ; the justice of his cause had vanished with his 
army. 

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 con 
queror, the conqueror of Clement 1 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' 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.* All 
near Henry felt the effects of his good-humor. Anne 
smiled ; the court indulged in amusements ; the great 
affair was about to be accomplished ; the New Testa- 
ment was to be delivered to the flames. The union be- 
tween 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. 

* Num illi aulaea, vaa aureum aut equi maxime probentar 
Burnet, Records, 1, p. 15. 



BOOK XX. 



THE TWO DIVORCES. 

CHAPTER I. 

Frugress 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 dis- 
semble 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 approach- 
ing emancipation of Christendom. The respect which for 
80 many centuries had hedged in the Roman pontiff was 
everywhere shaken ; the Reform, already firmly estab- 
lished 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 Ro- 
mish church ; but Spain at heart cared little for the pon- 
tifical 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 acknow- 
ledged the supreme authority in the church. 

The conquest of Christian Britain by the Papacy oc- 
cupied all the seventh century, as we have seen. The 
sixteenth was the counterpart of the seventh. The strug- 
gle waich England then had to sustain, in order to free 



400 HISTOBY OF THE PREFORMATION 



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 consists in recov- 
ering 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 Lon- 
don with the court of Rome, at the period of the Refor- 
mation, 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 every thing 
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 par- 
ticularly 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 



ANNE'S HESITATION. 



401 



facts, has thought it her duty ever since to avoid all con- 
tact 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 i-t was only 
by emancipating themselves from this priestly dictator- 
Bhip that modern nations could advance safely in the 
paths of liberty, order, and greatness. 

Jb'or 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 Eochford 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 set- 
tled thing," he said to her ; " you have no control over 
it. The only question is, whether it shall be you or an- 
other 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 se- 
cret ambition, influenced her to grasp the proffered scep- 
tre. These thoughts haunted her in society, in solitude, 
and even in her dreams. At one time she imagined her- 
self on the throne, distributing to the people her chari- 
ties 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 fre- 
quently, and almost always in French. As the court of 
Rome makes use of these letters, which are kept in the 
Vatican, to abuse the Eeformation, 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 

26 



402 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATIO*. 



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 :* 

" By revolving in my mind the contents of your last 
letters, I have put myself into great agony, not knowing 
tow 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 mis- 
tress, 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 affections, and serving you only 
I beg you to give an entire answer to this my rude let- 
ter, 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. Kex." 

Such were the affectionate, and we may add — if we 
think of the time and the man — the respectful terms em- 
ployed by Henry in writing to Anne Boleyn. The lat 
ter, without making any promises, betrayed some little 
affection for the king, and added to her reply an emble- 
matical jewel, representing a "solitary damsel in a boat 

• 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. 



HENRY'S SECOND LETTER. 403 



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 favor I will always seek to preserve, 
and this is my firm intention and hope, according to the 
matter, aut illic aut nuttibi. 

" The demonstrations of your affections are such, the 
fine thoughts of your letter so cordially expressed, that 
they oblige me for ever to honor, 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 de- 
sires 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, assur- 
ing 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 

11 Your loyal and most faithful servant, 

" H. T. Rex."* 

• Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 115. After the signature comes the 
following device : 



Nulle autre que 




ne cherche E. T. 



404 HISTOBY OF THE REFOBMATION. 



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 any thing but a lawful union, 
These daily prayers seem to present the matter in a difc 
ferent light from that which Romanist writers have im- 
agined. 

Henry thought himself more advanced than he really 
was. Anne then shrank back ; embarrassed by the po- 
sition she held at court, she begged for one less elevated. 4 
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 wil- 
lingly concede it, if by that means you are less uncom- 
fortable in the place you shall choose than in that where 
you have been placed by me. I thank you most cor- 
dially that you are pleased still to bear me in your re- 
membrance. " H. T." 

Anne having retired in May to Hever castle, her fa- 
ther'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, 
ftni yet the more scorching is his heat. Thus is it with 
our love ; absence has placed distance between us, nev- 
ertheless fervor 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 intoler- 
able were it not for the firm hope I have of your indis- 
soluble affection towards me. In order to remind you of 
itj and because I cannot in person be in your presence, 



WOLSEY TROUBLED. 



406 



I send yoa the thing which comes nearest that is possi- 
ble, that is to say, my picture, and the whole device, 
which you already know of,* 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." 

Pressed by her father, her uncles, and by Henry, 
Anne's firmness was shaken. That crown, rejected by 
Renee and by Margaret, dazzled the young English 
woman ; 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. 

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 irri- 
tate 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 ambassa- 
dor, 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 hia 
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 

° Doubtless the ant illic out nuUtiri. For this letter see the Pam* 
phleteer, No. 42, p. 346. 



406 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION* 



he had done for France against the wishes of all England? u 1 
need much dexterity in my affairs," he added, " and must 
use a terrible alchymy"* But alchymy could not save 
him. Rarely has so much anguish been veiled beneath 
such grandeur. Du Bellay was moved with pity at the 
eight of the unhappy man's sufferings. "When he gives 
way," he wrote to Montmorency, "it lasts a day togeth- 
er; he is continually sighing. You have never seen a 
man in such anguish of mind."f 

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 some- 
thing. 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, re- 
ceived " a gentle lash."J This was the sole result of the 
manoeuvre. 

Wolsey now resolved to broach this important sub- 
ject in a straightforward manner. The step might prove 
his ruin ; but if he succeeded, he was saved and the pope- 
dom with him. Accordingly one day — shortly befoi a the 
Bweating sickness broke out, says Du Bellay, probably 
in June, 1528 — Wolsey openly prayed the king to re- 
nounce 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 speak- 
ing, Henry's face grew black ; and before he had con- 

* Une terrible Alquemie. Le Giand, Preuves, p. 157. 
t April 26, 1528. Ibid., p. 93. 

\ Queiquc petit coup defouet. May 24, 1628. Du Bellay t» Moat 
morency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 102. 



THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 401 



eluded the king's anger broke out. " The king used ter- 
rible 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 reso- 
lution. 

Wolsey, now no longer doubting of his disgrace, 1 e- 
gan 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 bishop- 
rics, in order that they might insure 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 honors, and would eel 
ebrate the charms of solitude.* He did more than this. 
Seeing plainly that the best way of recovering the king's 
favor would be to conciliate Anne Boleyn, he made her 
the most handsome presents, f 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." J Even Henry had no 
doubt that the cardinal had profited by his lesson. 

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 seri- 
ous event appeared to put every one in harmony with his 
neighbor. About the middle of June, the terrible sweat- 
ing sickness — sudor anglicus — broke out in England. 
The citizens of London, " thick as flies," said Du Bellay,^ 
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 fright- 
ful and rapid progress ; a burning heat preyed on their 
limbs ; if they chanced to uncover themselves, the per- 
spiration ceased, delirium came on, and in four hours the 
victim was dead and " stiff as a wall,"|| says the French 

° August 20, 1528. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, 
Preures, p. 165 f Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150. J Ibid 

§ Dru comm 3 mouches. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 138. 
| Raide comue un pan de mur. Ibid. 



408 HISTOHY OF THE EEFOBMATION. 



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.* 
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, two 
thousand persons died in London. 

The court was at first safe from the contagion ; but 
on the fourth day one of Anne Boleyn's ladies was at- 
tacked ; it was as if a thunderbolt had fallen on the pal- 
ace. The king removed with all haste, and stayed 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 Wal- 
tham. His real conscience awoke only in the presence 
of death. Four of his attendants and a friar, Anne's 
confessor, as it would appear,f falling ill, the king de- 
parted 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 per- 
haps 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 ;| he prayed, fasted, confessed, became rec- 
onciled with the queen ; took the sacrament every Sun- 
day and feast-day ; received his Maker ^ to use the 
words of a gentleman of his chamber ; and the queen 
and Wolsey did the same. Nor was that all : his coun- 

• More's Life, p. 136. 

f Votre pere inaitre Jesonere est tombe malade. Henry to 
Anne Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 347. 

J With hig physician in a chamber within a tower to sup apart 
State Papers, 1, p. 296. § Ibid., p. 290 



ANNE BOLEYN TAKEN SIOK. 409 



cillor, Sir Brian Tuke, was sick in Essex ; but that mat- 
tered 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. :i There 
were a hundred thousand made," says Du Bellay. 

During this time, Anne in her retirement at Hever 
was calm and collected ; she prayed much, particularly 
for the king and for Wolsey.* But Henry, far less sub- 
missive, 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."f 

As he received no news, Henry's uneasiness increas- 
sd ; he sent to Anne a messenger and a letter : " To ac- 
quit 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." 

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 exceed- 
ingly 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 gen* 

• I fbank 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. t Ihid., No. 42, p. 847. 

Hist ol Kef., Vol. V. 



410 HISTOEY OF THE BEFORMATIOH. 



tlemen 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 hia physician Dr. Butts :* 
"The most displeasing news that could occur came to 
me suddenly at night. On three accounts I must lament 
t. One, to hear of the illness of my mistress, whom I 
esteem more than all the world, and whose health I de- 
sire 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 fill 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 hiin 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." 

The pestilence soon broke out with more violence 
around Henry ; he fled in alarm to Hatfield, taking with 
him only the gentlemen of his chamber ; he next quitted 
this place for Tittenhanger, a house belonging to Wol- 
sey, whence he commanded general processions through- 
out the kingdom in order to avert this scourge of God.f 
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. 
M 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 favoi 

• Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 120. 
t State Papers, 1, p. 308. 



DISSIMULATION AT COUBT. 411 



Qpon an ungrateful man." The king, perceiving that 
Wolsey's mind was affected, bade him " put apart fear 
and fantasies,"* and wear a cheerful humor in the midst 
of death. 

At last the sickness began to diminish, and immo* 
diately the desire to see Anne revived in Henry's bosom. 
Oo the 18th of August she reappeared at court, and all 
&€ 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 depar- 
ture 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 vigi- 
lancy, with the assistance of Almighty God, shortly to 
be eased out of that trouble."f 

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 honors 
which the king would have showered upon her, and never 
approached Catherine but with marks of profound re- 
spect. 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 com- 
pelled him to put away so justly beloved a princess. In 
the mean while he seemed to live on the best terma with 

« State Papers, 1, p. 314. 

f Pamphleteer, No. 48, p. 149. 



413 HISTOBY OF THE REFOKMATION. 



her, from what Du Bellay says.* 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, en- 
couraged music and dancing in her apartments, often 
appeared in public, and seemed desirous of captivating 
by her gracious smiles the good-will of England. Tbia 
wslb a mournful comedy, destined to end in tragedy full 
of tears and agony. 

° October 16, 1528. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, 
Preuves, p. 170. 



OOVEBDALE AND INSPIRATION. 413 



CHAPTER II. 

(bverdale and inspiration — He undertakes to translate the Scrip* 
tares — His joy and spiritual songs— Ty ball and the laymen — Co* 
verdale preaches at Bumpstead — Revival at Colchester — Incom- 
plete societies and the New Testament — Persecution — Monmoutb 
arrested and released. 

While these scenes were acting in the royal palaces, 
far different discussions were going on among the peo- 
ple. After having dwelt for some time on the agitations 
of the court, we gladly return to the lowly disciples oi 
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. 

Among the young men trained at Cambridge undei 
Barnes* instruction, and who had aided him at the time 
of his trial, was Miles Coverdale, afterwards bishop uf 
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.* The lapse of his unhappy master had 
alarmed Coverdale, and he felt the necessity of with- 
drawing from that outward activity which had proved 
so fatal to Barnes. He therefore turned to the Scrip- 
tures, 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 

° 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. 1 am inclined 
to think it was written in 1528 ; but any way, there is a difficulty 
rttti the data. 



414 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



struck Coverdale. "Wherever the Scripture is known 
it reformeth all things. And why ? Because it is given 
by the inspiration of Ood."* This fundamental principle 
of the Reformation in England must, in every age, be 
that of the church. 

Coverdale found happiness in his studies. " Now," 
he said, "I begin to taste of holy Scriptures. Now, 
honor be to God, I am set to the most sweet smell of 
holy letters."f He did not stop there, but thought it Lis 
duty to attempt in England the work which Tyndale 
was prosecuting in Germany. The Bible was so impor- 
tant 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 ?"J 
"Beware of translating the Bible," exclaimed the parti- 
sans of the schoolmen ; " your labor will only make 
divisions in the faith and in the people of God."§ " 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 translations, he 
answered, "Do not you know that when many are start- 
ing together, every one doth his best to be nighest the 
mark ?"|| "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 He- 
brew, 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."^[ This does not 
mean that translations of holy Scripture are inspired, but 
that the word of God, faithfully translated, always pos- 
sesses a divine authority. 

Coverdale determined therefore to translate the Bible, 
and to procure the necessary books, he wrote to Crom 
well, who during his travels had made a collection o 
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 

• Coverdale* s Remains, p. 10. t *bid p. 490. 

% Ibid. p. 12. § Ibid. || Ibid. p. 14. % [bid. p. % 



A REVIVAL IN ESSEX 



415 



waters.''* Cromwell did not refuse Coverdale his treas- 
ures. "Since the Holy Ghost moves you to bear the 
cost of this work," exclaimed the latter, " God gives me 
boldness to labor in the same."f He commenced with- 
out delay, saying, "Whosoever believeth not the Scrip* 
ture, believeth not Christ ; and whoso refuseth it, refus- 
cth God also."! Such were the foundations of the re» 
formed church in England. 

Coverdale did not undertake to translate the Scrip- 
tures 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 wordes he spake to me: 
I wyll dely ver 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 blonde, 

And take away my lyfe also ; 
Which I wyll sufire 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. 

Coverdale did not remain long in the solitude he de 
sired. 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 Bumstead, hav- 

• De tuo ipso torrente maxime potare exopto. Coverdale's Be* 
malno, p. 491. f Ibid. p. 10. t Ibid. p. 19, 



418 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ing learned to find in Jesus Christ the "true bread from 
heaven/' did not stop there. One day, as he was read- 
ing the first epistle to the Corinthians, these words, "Eat 
of this head," 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 cre- 
ate the body of the Lord," said he : " Christ truly is 
present in the eucharist, but he is there only for him thai 
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 men- 
tioned in Scripture, as some Christians have done since, 
he attached no importance to them. " Priesthood is not 
necessary,"* 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 TybalPs energetic preaching. 

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 Top- 
ley, who was supplying Foxe's place during his absence. 
This monk, while staying at the parsonage, had found a 
copy of WicklifiVs Wicket, which he read eagerly. His 
conscience was wounded by it, and all seemed to totter 
about him.f He had gone to church full of doubt, and 
after divine service he waited upon the preacher, ex- 
claiming, " 0 my sins, my sins." " Confess yourself to 
God," said Coverdale, " and not to a priest. God accept- 
(;th the confession which cometh from the heart, and 
blotteth out all your sins."J The monk believed in the 
forgiveness of God, and became a zealous evangelist for 
the surrounding country. 

• Strype, Records, 1, p. 51. 

f I felt in my conscience a great wavering. Anderson's An nail 
of the Bible, vol. 1, p. 185. $ Coverdale's Remains, p. 481. 



THE BR0TK2KS IN CHRIST. 



417 



The divine word had hardly lighted one torch before 
that kindled another. At Colchester, in the same coun- 
ty, a worthy man named Pykas had received a copy of 
the epistles of St. Paul from his mother, with this advice : 
" My son, live according to these writings, and not ac- 
cording to the teaching of the clergy." Some time after, 
Pykas having bought a New Testament, and "read it 
thoroughly many times,"* 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 
learned that Bilney, the first of the Cambridge doctors 
who had known the power of God's word, was preach- 
ing at Ipswich, he proceeded thither, for he never refused 
to listen to a priest when that priest proclaimed the 
truth. " Oh what a sermon ! how full of the Holy 
Ghost V 9 exclaimed Pykas. 

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 oth- 
ers 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.f 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 meet- 
ings. And it was not in cottages only that the glad 

• Strype, vol. 1, ch. 1, p. 121. f IHd. P- 

27 



418 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 the household : a humble reformation more real 
than that effected by Henry VIII. 

There was, however, some diversity of opinion among 
these brethren. " All who have begun to believe," said 
Tyball, Fykas, and others, "ought to meet together to 
hear the word and increase in faith. We pray in com- 
mon and that constitutes a church." Coverdale, Bil- 

ney, and Latimer willingly recognized 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 pri- 
ority belongs to the faith and the life. But this imper- 
fect form they also regarded as provisional. To pre- 
vent numerous dangers, it was necessary that this soci- 
ety 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. How- 
ever, 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 aud William Pykas, and many others, 
were summoned before the bishop. They were taken to 
prison ; they were led before the judges ; they were put 
ia the stocks ; they were tormented in a thousand waya 



MONMOUTH EXAMINED. 



410 



Their minds became confused, their thoughts wandered, 
and many made the confessions required by their perse- 
cutors. 

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 six- 
teenth century, participated in their hatred. He wrote 
to CochlaBus, " Germany now daily bringeth forth mon- 
sters more deadly than what Africa was wont to do ;* 
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."f More felt par- 
ticularly 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. 

On the 14th of May, 1529, Monmouth was in his 
shop, when an usher came and summoned him to ap- 
pear before Sir John Dauncies, one of the privy council. 
The pious merchant obeyed, striving to persuade himself 
that he was wanted on some matter of business ; but ia 
this he was deceived, as he soon found out. " What let- 
ters and books have you lately received from abroad ?"$ 
irskcd, 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 V " None, for these 
last three years. William Tyndale abode with me si* 

• More'g life, p. 82. t ^d. p. 117. 

t Strype, Records, p. 863. 



4&0 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



months," he continued, " and his life was what a good 
priest's ought to be. I gave him ten pounds at the pe- 
riod 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 
£&0." " 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 learned any great errors from them."* More 
tossed his head. " It is a hard matter," he used to say, 
" to put a dry stick in tho fire without its burning, or to 
nourish a snake in our bosom and not be stung by it.f 
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. 

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."J 

There was matter enough to burn several men. Mon- 
mouth, 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 coun- 
try 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 maj- 
esty's customs.§ If I remain in prison, this commerce 
is stopped, and of course all the proceeds for the ex 
chequer." Wolsey, who was as much a statesman as a 
churchman, begau to melt; on the eve of a struggle 
with the pope and the emperor, he feared besides to make 

• Strype, Records, p. 865. f More' a Life, p. 116. 

t Strype's Mem. 1, p. 490. § Strype, Records, 1, p. 807. 



MONMOUTH FAITHFUL. 



4S1 



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 evangel- 
ical 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. 



422 HlSTOftt Of tfiE ftMOBMATION. 



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 satisfac- 
tion — The cardinal's project — Campeggio' s reception — First in- 
terview with the queen and with the king — Useless efforts to 
make Campeggio part with the decretal — The nuncio's con- 
science — Public opinion— Measures taken by the king — His 
speech to the lords and aldermen — Festivities — Wolsey seeks 
French support — Contrariety. 

While these persecutions were agitating the fields 
and the capital of England, all had changed in the eccle- 
siastical world, because all had changed in the politi- 
cal. 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 em- 
peror ; 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, 
nad said proudly to the pope, "We are determined to 
defend the queen of England against king Henry's in- 
justice."* 

Charles having recovered his superiority, the affright- 
ed 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.^f They overtook the legate, who opened the 
pope's letters. "In the first place," said Clement VIL 
to him, "protract your journey. In the second place, 

• Cum Caesar materterae suae causam contra injurias Henrici pre* 
pugnaverit. Sanders, p. 28. 

f Quatuor nuncios celerrimo cursu diversis itineribus ad Cam* 
pegium misit. Ibid, et Herbert, p. 253 



OAMPEGGIO'S DELAYS. 



423 



when yon reach England, use every endeavor to recon- 
cile 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 favorable to the divorce without a new and ex- 
press order from me. This is the essential : Summum 
et maximum mandatum." The ambassador of the sov 
ereign pontiff had a mission to do nothing. This instruc- 
tion is sometimes as effective as any. 

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 Cam- 
peggio, the latter was Clement's bridle to check Wolsey.* 
One of the judges of the divorce was about to pull for- 
wards, the other backwards ; thus the business stood a 
chance of not advancing at all, which was just what the 
pope required. 

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 23d of July ; but the 
end of August was approaching, and no one knew in 
that country what had become of him.f At length they 
learned that he had reached Lyons on the 22d of August. 
The English ambassador in France sent him horses, car- 
riages, plate, and money, in order to hasten his prog- 
ress ; 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 lunged 
fcr, to God's pleasure and both our comforts."J 

At the same time this impatient prince sent message 
after message to accelerate the legate's rate of travel- 
lipg. 

Anne began to desire a future which surpassed all 

Fuller, book 6, p. 172. f state Papers, 7, pp. 91, 02. 
% Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 117. 



424 BISTORT OF THE REFORMATION. 



that her youthful imagination had conceived, and hep 
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 hon- 
orably the greatest wealth," well-being, "that is possible 
to come to any creature living ; and in especial remem 
bering 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 rec- 
ompense 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."* 

But the impatience of the king of England and of 
Anne seemed as if it would never be satisfied. Cam- 
peggio, 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 significa- 
tive. " The king of England ought to know," said the 
indignant Francis to the duke of Suffolk, "that Campeg- 
gio is imperialist at heart, and that his mission in Eng- 
land will be a mere mockery ."f 

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 weak- 
ened, 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, 8 
proud and passionate woman, and a rigid Roman-catho* 
lie, had sworn an implacable hatred against her young 
eister. By this means wounds might be inflicted, even 
in the domestic sanctuary, which would not be the less 

° Pamphleteer, p. 151. 

f The cardinal intended not that your grace's matter should 
tsJce effect, but only to use dissimulation with your grace, for be i* 
entirely imperial. Suffolk to Henry, State Papers, 7, p. 183. 



N 



A CRUEL PROPHECY 



425 



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 under- 
stood what her enemies meant to insinuate, and dismiss- 
ed the mock interpreter without betraying any signs of 
fear ; then turning to her favorite attendant Anne Sa- 
ville, " Come hither, Nan," said she, " look at this book 
of prophecies ; this is the king, this is the queen wring- 
ing her hands and mourning, and this," putting her fin- 
ger on the bleeding body, "is my self y with my head cut 
off." The young lady answered with a shudder, " If 1 
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, what- 
ever may become of me."* This story is based on good 
authority, and there were so many predictions of thia 
kind afloat, that it is very possible one of them might 
come true ; people afterwards recollected only the proph- 
ecies 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. 

At length Campeggio embarked at Calais on the 29th 
of September, and unfortunately for him he had an excel- 
lent passage across the Channel. A storm to drive him 
back to the French coast would have suited him admira- 
bly. 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 w 

• Wyatt, p. 430. 



426 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



your holiness for so great a favor," 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.* The nuncio 
became more dilatory than ever, and although he reach- 
ed 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.f 

Meanwhile preparations were making to receive him 
in London. Wolsey, feeling contempt for the poverty 
of the Roman cardinals, and very uneasy about the equi- 
page 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 background, 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 Lon- 
don 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 ex- 
cellent jest for the citizens of London. " Fine outside, 
empty inside ; a just emblem of the popedom, its embas 
By, and foolish pomps/' they said ; " a sham legate, a 
procession of masks, and the whole a farce." 

° Sanga to Campeggio, from Viterbo, September 27. Rank*, 
Deutsche Gesch. 3, p. 135. 
\ State Papers, 7, pp. 94, 96. 



ANNE'S INDECISION f EBMINATED. 4&7 



Campeggio was come at last, and now what he dread* 
ed most was an audience. "I cannot move," he said, 
"or endure the motion of a litter."* 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 ;f it was labor 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. 

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 suppress- 
ing 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 re- 
tard his access to your person."J 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 pre 
served them. 

° Despatch from the bishop of Bayonne, October 16 1629. Lo 
Grand, Preuves, p. 169. 

f Quern 8a; pi us visitavi et amantissime sum complexus. State 
Papers, 7, p. 103. 

t Pamphleteer. No. 48, p. 128. 



428 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



But the more Henry rejoiced, the more Wolsey de« 
fipaired ; he would have desired to penetrate into Clem- 
ent'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 brigantinc 
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.* At last he made 
up his mind to remain ignorant of the pontiff's designs, 
and wiped his eyes, awaiting, not without fear, the inter* 
view between Henry and Campeggio. 

On the 22d of October, a month after his arrival, the 
nuncio, borne in a sedan chair of red velvet, was car- 
ried 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 Savior of 
Rome, Liberator urbis. "His majesty," replied Pox in 
the king's name, " has only performed the duties incum- 
bent on a Christian prince, and he hopes that the holy 
see will bear them in mind." " Well attacked, well de- 
fended," 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 threat- 
ened her by voluntary retirement into a convent. And 
then, to end all indecision in the queen's mind, Carnpeg* 

• Du Bellay to Montmorency, October 21. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 185. 



THE QUEEN'S BEPLY. 



429 



gio put on a severe look, and exclaimed, " Ho\* 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, par- 
ticipating with an appearance of gayety and satisfao 
tion 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 hus- 
band 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 him- 
self requires this of you."* 

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 law- 
ful 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 detest- 
able, this is a great marvel to me, especially when I con- 
sider 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 threat- 
en 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 favor ; . . . 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 

° Du Bellay to Montmorency, November 1. Le Grand, Preuvea, 
p. 105. 



430 HISTOBf OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 neph- 
ew the emperor, . . . and you have kept him true promise ; 
for of 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 revo- 
lution 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.* 

Thus Campeggio saw his hopes deceived; he had 
thought to find a nun, and had met a queen and a moth- 
er. 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. 

Henry, always impatient, went one day unannounced 
to Campeggio's lodging, accompanied by Wolsey only.f 
"As we are without witnesses," he said, taking his seat 
familiarly between the two cardinals, "let us speak 
freely of our affairs.J How shall you proceed V s But 
to his great astonishment and grief, § the nuncio prayed 
him, with all imaginable delicacy, to renounce the di- 
vorce.|| At these words the fiery Tudor burst out, " Is 
this how the pope keeps his word ? He sends me an 

• Begina in luctu et lacrymis noctes diesque egit. Sanders, 
p. 29. 

f Regia majestas et ego ad eum crebro accessimus. State Papers, 
7, p. 103. 

% Rex et duo cardinalea, remotis arbitris, de suis rebus multum 
et diu collocuti. Sanders, p. 29. 

§ Incredibili utriusque nostrum animi mcerore. State Papers, T f 
p 104. 

|| Conatus est omne divortium inter regiam majestatem et regl 
nam dissuadere. Ibid 



CAMPEGGIO SHOWS THE DECRETAL. 431 

ambassador to annul my marriage, but in reality to con- 
firm 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.* The king's an- 
ger 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," 
flaid 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 destruo- 
tion."f 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 di- 
vorce. " 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.J 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 con- 
ceive." 

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 

• Non absque ingenti cruciatu. State Papers, 7, p. 104. 

f Ingemiscendum excidium, perpetua infamia. Ibid. 

% Eemedium Jevamenque afflicts oppressaeque consciento, lb. 



432 HISTOBY OF THE BBFOBMATION. 



own hands ? Henry and Wolsey will leave no means 
untried to get possession of it ; that point gained, and 
victory is theirs. 

Wolsey having returned to the nuncio, he asked him 
for the decretal with an air of candor, as if it was the 
raost 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 ;* 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 sin- 
gle moment," he said. Campeggio still refused. The 
haughty Tudor retired, stifling his anger. Then Wolsey 
made another attempt, and founded his demand on jus- 
tice. " Like you, I am delegated by his holiness to de- 
cide this affair," he said, " and I wish to study the impor- 
tant 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 car- 
dinal 1 ... like you, a judge ? your colleague ?" It mat- 
tered not, the nuncio would not by any means let the 
decretal go.f Clement was not deceived in the choice 
he had made of Campeggio ; the ambassador was wor- 
thy of his master. 

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 insuffi- 
cient ; the decretal commission alone can be of service, 
and you do not permit us to read a word of it.J . . . The 
king and I place the greatest confidence in the good 

° Non ut ea uteremur, sed ut secreta haberetur. State Papers, 
7, p. 104. 

f Nullo pacto adduci vult, ut mihi, suo colUgm, commissionein 
hanc decretalem e suis manibus credat. Ibid, p. 105. 
% Nec ullum verbum nec nientionem ullain. Ibid. 



TEE NUNCIO REFUSES THE BULL. 488 



Intentions of his holiness, and yet we find our expecta- 
tions frustrated.* Where is that paternal affection witi 
which we had flattered ourselves ? What prince has 
ever been trifled with as the king of England is now J 
If this is the way in which the Defender of the Faith is 
rewarded, Christendom will know what those who serve 
Home will have to expect from her, and every powei 
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 precipi- 
tate it into everlasting ruin.f What a sad futurity ! . . . 
what inexpressible torture I . . . whether I wake or sleep, 
gloomy thoughts continually pursue me like a frightful 
nightmare.":); This time Wolsey spoke the truth. 

But all his eloquence was useless ; Campeggio refus- 
ed 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."§ 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 1 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 unlimit- 

• Esse omni spe frustrates quam in praefata Sanctitate tarn in- 
genue reposueramus. State Papers, 7, p. 105. 

f A fundamento tarn levi, incertaque statera pendeat, ut hi 
Mznpiternam ruinam. Ibid. p. 106. 

% Quauto animi cruciatu . . . vigilans dormiensque. Ibid. p. 108, 

§ Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preures, p. 266 



434 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ed." The nuncio had hardly put his conscience forward 
before it stumbled ; it bound him to Rome and not lo 
heaven. But for that matter, neither public opinion nor 
Campeggio's own friends had any great idea of his mo- 
rality ; they thought that to make him leap the ditch, it 
was only requisite to know the price at which he migb/ 
be bought. The bishop of Bayonne wrote to Moutmo* 
rency, "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 instruc- 
tions." 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. 

During this time men's minds were troubled. The 
prospect of a divorce between the king and queen had 
starred 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."* Wol- 
sey's spies informed him that Catherine and Charles V 
had many devoted partisans 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 V 9 "Tough against the spur," 
Bays Du Bellay, the lords remained silent. At length, 
however, one of them more imprudent than the rest, ex 
claimed, " Such a boast will make the emperor lose more 
than a hundred thousand Englishmen." This was enough 

• Du Bellay to Montmorency, November 8, 1528. Le Grand, 
Prouves, p. 204. 



HBNBY'S SPEECH TO THE LOBDS. 435 



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. 

The king and the cardinal immediately took their 
measures. More than fifteen thousand of Charles' sub- 
jects were ordered to leave London ; the arms of the 
citizens were seized, "in order that they might have no 
worse weapon than the tongue the Flemish council- 
lors 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 humor to subject his kingdom %q 
the pope. 

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,f 
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, J 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 con- 

• Le Grand, Preuves, p. 232. 

f This act is dated Idibus Novembris. Wilkins, Concilia, 3, p. 
7J4. Herbert and Colly er say the 8th of November. 

% In mentem una venit et concurrit mortis cogitatto. ihi4. 



486 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

tinually pricking my conscience. This is the only mo- 
tive, and God is my witness,* which has made me lay 
this matter before the pontiff. As touching the queen, 
she is a woman incomparable in gentleness, humility, 
and buxoinness, as I these twenty years have had exper- 
taient of ; so that if I were to marry again, if the mar* 
riage 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. . . . There- 
fore I require of you all to pray with us that the very 
truth may be known, for the discharging of our con- 
science and the saving of our soul."f 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, 1 will show him that I am 
the master, and there is no head so high that I will not 
roll it from his shoulders." J This was a speech in Hen- 
ry's style ; but we cannot give unlimited credit to Du 
Bellay's assertions, this diplomatist being very fond, like 
others of bis 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, riome supported the king, others 
were content to pity the queen in secret ; the majority 

• Haec una res quod Deo teste et in regis oraculo affirmainus 
Wilkina, Concilia, 3, p. 714. 
f Hall, p. 754. 

t Du Bellay to Montmorency, November *7, 162$. I* Grand* 
Prsuves, p. 218. 



COURT REJOICINGS. 



prepared to take advantage of a court revolution which 
every one foresaw. " Th3 king so plainly gave them to 
understand his pleasure," says the French ambassador, 
"that they speak more sv>berly than they have done 
hitherto." 

Henry wishing to silence the clamors of the people, 
ani to allay the fears felt by the higher classes, gave 
several magnificent entertainments, at one time in Lon- 
don, at another at Greenwich, now at Hampton Court, 
and then at Richmond. The queen accompanied him, 
but Anne generally remained ** in a very handsome lodg- 
ing which Henry had furnished for her," says Du Bellay. 
The cardinal, following his master's example, gave rep- 
resentations of French plays with great magnificence. 
All his hope was in France. "I desire nothing in Eng- 
land, neither in word nor in deed, which is not French,"* 
he said to the bishop of Bayonne. At length Anne Boleyn 
had accepted the brilliant position she had at first refus- 
ed, 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 en- 
dure her, that when great ones are attempted, they may 
not be found so strange." 

In the midst of these festivities the grand business 
did not slumber. When the French ambassador solicit- 
ed 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.f The 
ambassador consented, and succeeded beyond all expec- 
tation. The nuncio, fully aware that a bow too much 
bent will break, made Henry by turns become the sport 



• Da Bellay to Montmorency, January 1. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 268. f Ibid. p. 200, 



438 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



of hope and fear. 11 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 tjie 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."* 
Thus did the legate himself reveal the breach by which 
the fortress might be surprised. " Victory 1" exclaimed 
Henry, as he entered Anne's apartments all beaming 
with joy. 

But this confidence on the part of Campeggio was 
only a new trick. "There is a great rumor 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."f 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 favor."| 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 conti- 
nent. To strike down one of the leaders of this evan- 
gelical movement might incline the court of Rome in 
Henry's favor. The cardinal undertook therefore to per- 
secute Tyndale ; and this resolution will now transport 
us to Germany. 

* Poussez-moi cela raide. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le 
Grand, Preuves, p. 217. 

t Ibid, p 219 % Ibid. p. 225. 



TBUE CATHOLICITY 



489 



CHAPTER IV. 

True Catholicity— Wolsey — Harman's matter — West sent to Co- 
logne — Labors of Tyndale and Fryth — Rincke at Frankfort — H* 
makes a discovery — Tyndale at Marburg — West returns to Eng 
land — 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 Ref- 
ormation then restored to the church. It is in Protes- 
tantism that true catholicity is to be found. The Rom- 
ish church is not a catholic church. Separated from 
the churches of the east, which are the oldest in Chris- 
tendom, 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 evan- 
gelical 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 reform- 
ers, and particularly Tyndale,* who proclaimed through- 
out Christendom the existence of a body of Christ, of 
which all the children of God are members. The disci- 
ples of the Reformation are the true catholics. 

It was a catholicity of another sort that Wolsey de- 
sired 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 
cheir 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 

° The church of Christ is the multitude of all them that believe 
in Christ, etc. Exposition of Matthew, Prologue. 



440 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 relatione 
then forming between the evangelical Christians of Great 
Britain and of other nations. Ann< yed 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 Ant* 
werp merchant, one of the principal supporters of the 
English reformer. But Hackett had in vain asked Wol- 
sey for such documents as would convict him of trea- 
son; for the crime of loving the Bible was not sufficient 
to procure Harman's condemnation in Brabant : the en- 
voy 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' imprison- 
ment. 

And yet Wolsey had not been inactive. The cardinal 
hoped to find elsewhere the cooperation which Margaret 
of Austria refused. It was Tyndale that he wanted, 
and every thing seemed to indicate that he was then 
hidden at Cologne or in its neighborhood. Wolsey, rec- 
ollecting 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 adversa- 
ries of the Reformation. Flattered by his mission, this 
yain monk immediately set off for Antwerp, accompa* 
Died 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 theui printed and sent to 
England, and prayed God night and day to enlighten his 



MISSION TO SEIZE TYNDALB. 441 



fellow-countrymen. "Why do you give yourself so 
much trouble V 9 said some of his friends. " They will 
burn your books as they have burned 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, Tyn 
dale, like the Saxon reformer, spent his days and nights 
translating the Bible. But not having an elector of Sax- 
ony to protect him, he was forced to change his resi- 
dence from time to time. 

At this epoch, Fryth, who had escaped from the pris- 
ons of Oxford, rejoined Tyndale, and the sweets of friend- 
ship softened the bitterness of their exile. Tyndale hav- 
ing finished the New Testament, and begun the transla- 
tion 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 pub- 
lished the books of Genesis and Deuteronomy, and ad- 
dressing 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."* Then de- 
nying 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 proclaim- 
ed, this inward witness worketh. If baptism | teach me 
ihe washing in Christ's blood, so dotn the Holy Gnosi 
accompany it ; and that deed of preacning through taith 
doth put away my sins. The aik ot Noah saved them 
in the water through taith."f 

• Prologue to the book of Genesis. Doct Tr p. 400. 

f Prologue to the boon of l-eviticus, Doct. Tr. pp. 423, 424, 42& 



442 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



The man who dared address England in language so 
contrary to the teaching of the middle ages mu»t 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 as- 
sume 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 
groat 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 Co- 
logne, and desire Rincke to do the same at Frankfort; 
thus there would be two searchers 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 cit} r 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 Eng- 
lish 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 Stras- 
burg, 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 
op to you." Rincke paid all that was demanded. 

Wolsey W3uld now be gratified, for the New Testa- 
ment annoyed him almost as much as the divorce ; this 
book, so dangerous in his eyes, seemed on the point gI 
raising a conflagration which would infallibly consume 
the edifice of Roman traditionalism. Rincke, who par- 



BINCKE'S MISTAKE. 



443 



ticipated in his patron's fears, impatiently opened the 
volumes made over to him ; but there was a sad mis- 
take ; 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 fol 
lowed him to Cologne, but with whom he had soon bo- 
come disgusted. "I bade him farewell for our two 
lives," said Tyndale, " and a day longer." Roy, on quit- 
ting the reformer, had gone to Strasburg, where he boast- 
ed of his relations with him, and had got printed in that 
city a satire against Wolsey and the monastic orders, 
entitled The Burial of the Mass: this was the book deliv- 
ered to Rincke. The monk's sarcastic spirit had exceed- 
ed 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.* 

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. 1 Kings 18 : ?. 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 attract- 
ed attention in the reform by the paradoxes of Lambert 
of Avignon. Here a young Scotsman 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 t heir abode in September, 1528, and hidden on the 
quiet banks of the Lahn, were translating the Old Testa- 

• Anderson, Annals of the Bible, 1, p. 203 : "I gathered to- 
gether and packed up all the tiooks from every quarter/ 



444 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



ment. 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 Tyn- 
dale escaped. 

When he arrived at Cologne, Rincke had an immedi- 
ate interview with West. Their investigations having 
failed, they must have recourse to more vigorous meas- 
ures. The senator therefore sent the monk back to Eng- 
land, accompanied by his son Hermann, charging them 
to tell Wolsey, " To seize Tyndale we require fuller 
powers, ratified by the emperor. The traitors who con- 
spire against the life of the king of England are not tol- 
erated 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 favor of God there may possibly be an 
opportunity for his royal highness and your grace to 
recompense us."* 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. 

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 re- 
serve for him. Roy, whom West had gone to look for 
on the banks of the Rhine, had paid a visit to his moth- 
er 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 

• CottoD MSS. Vitelliui. b. 21, fol. 43. Bible Annals, 1, p. 201 



WEST'S ANNOYANCES. 



446 



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 rid 
iculed 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 con- 
jured a friend whom he had at court to procure him be- 
fore 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 reimburs- 
ed." 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 Ger- 
many, and for * time Tyndale wa* saved. 



446 HISTOBT OF THE BEFOBMATIOH. 



CHAPTER V. 

Necessity of the Keformation — Wolsey's earnestness with Da Car 
sale — 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 de- 
cline—His anguish. 

The king and a part of his people still adhered to tne 
popedom, and so long as these bonds were not broken 
the word of God could not have free course. But to in- 
duce 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 r 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 agree- 
able to the king, more desirable by me, and more useful 
and glorious for you and your family."* 

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, 
ne 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 endeavors to dis- 
suade the king 1 . . . 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 

° Vobis vestraeque familiae utUius aut honori&centius. Stais 
Papers, 7, p. 114. 



DA OASALE AND CLEMENT VII. 441 



public ; ... it would be my ruin."* 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, f . . . The world shall know tha 
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."! At these words Da Casale, unable to re- 
strain his emotion, fell down at the pope's feet, and beg 
ged him to save the church in Great Britain. The pope 
was moved. " Rise," said he with marks of unwonted 
grief, § " I grant you all that is in my power ; I am will- 
ing to confirm the judgment which the legates may think 
it their duty to pass ; but I acquit myself of all respon- 
sibility 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 dis- 
heartened, and feeling convinced that the pontiff was 
about to treat with Charles V. 

Wolsey desired to save the popedom, but the pope- 
dom resisted. Clement VII. was about to lose that 
island which Gregory the Great had won with such dif- 
ficulty. The pope was in the most cruel position. The 
English envoy had hardly left the palace before the em- 
peror's ambassador entered breathing threats. The 
unhappy pontiff escaped the assaults of Henry only *o 
be exposed to those of Charles ; he was thrown back- 
wards and forwards like a ball. " I shall assemble a 
general council," said the emperor through his ambassa- 

• Burnet, Records, 2, p. 20. Unius digiti jactura . . quod lac- 
tam fuit revocarem. 

•f Admonere, exclamare, rogare, instare, urgere pulsare, peri- 
cula praesentia et futura demonstrare. State Papers, 7, p. 112. 

X Tempus jam in promptu adest. Ibid 

S Burnet's Eef. 1, p. 44. Records, p. 20. 



448 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



dor, "and if you are found to have infringed the canons 
of the church in any point, you shall be proceeded 
against with every rigor. 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 re- 
pent 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."* 
Now Campana was sent to England to burn clandestine- 
ly the famous decretal ;f Clement concealed his blows 
by an embrace. Rome had granted many divorces not 
so well founded as that of Henry VIII. ; but a very dif- 
ferent 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 tri- 
umph of the Reformation. Rome was separating herself 
from England. 

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, 

• Nos ilium paterna charitate complecti, ut sua erga nos atque 
banc 6edem plurima merita requirunt. State Papers, 7, p. 116. 

f To charge Campeggio to burn the decretal. Herbert, p. 250. 
Burnet's Bel 1, p. 47. 



NEW MISSION TO BOMS. 



449 



of which he was very fond, he passed his time in gam- 
bling, to which he was much addicted. Respectable his- 
torians assert that he indulged in still more illicit pleas- 
ures.* 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 reason- 
ing 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 Vati- 
can being very long, without reckoning the Roman dil- 
atoriness, the expedient was infallible. 

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 embas- 
sy 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 handwriting 
of secretary Sigismond, and you will attentively exam- 
ine the ring of the fisherman used by that poatiff.f More- 
over 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, reserv- 
ing the temporal for himself. You will manage so that 
Clement takes alarm at the project, and you will then 
offer him a guard of two thousand men to protect him. 

° Hunting and gaming all the day long, and following harlots 
all the night. Burnet, 1, p. 62. 
f State Papers, 7, p. 126, note. 

29 



450 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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,* 
he could have the assurance that the pope would after- 
wards 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."f The idea which 
has brought so much reproach on the landgrave of Hesse 
was not a new one ; the honor of it belongs to a cardi- 
nal and legate of Rome, whatever Bossuet may oay. 
" Lastly," continued Wolsey, " as the pope is of a timid 
disposition, you will not fail to season your remonstran- 
ces 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 .* 

It was not on the mind of the pope alone that it was 
necessary to act ; the rumor that the emperor and the 
king of France were treating together disturbed Henry 
Wolsey had vainly tried to sound Du Bellay ; these twc 
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. J 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 advo- 
cate, he understands the whole business so well." Henry 
next touched upon the wrongs of Francis I., "recalling 
»o many things that the envoy knew not what to say." 

0 Only thereby to conduce the queen thereunto. State Papers, 
7, p. 136, note. 

f De duabus uxoribus. Henry's Instructions to Enigjht in the 
middle of December, 1528. Ibid. p. 137. Some great reasons and 
precedents of the Old Testament appear. Instructions to same, De- 
cember 1. Ibid. p. 136, note. 

% La dite lettre du roi, combien qu'elle fut du 3, je l'ai re^ue 
sJnon le 13 ; le pareil m'advint quasi de toutes autres. Du Bella.} 
to Montmorency, December 20. Le Grand, Preuves. 



EFFECTS OF THE BRIEF. 



451 



"I pray you, Master Ambassador," said Heary in con- 
clusion, " to beg the king ray 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. 

In truth, the fatal brief from Spain tormented him 
day and night, and the cardinal tortured his mind tc 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,* 
one of which contradicts the other 1 Either the bull 
was good, and then, why the brief? or the br 1 ! 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.f 
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 suppositious character of the document. 

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 

• State Papers, vol. 7, p. 130. 

f Queen Isabella was called Elizabeth in the brief; but I have 
Been a document from the court of Madrid in which Queen Elizabeth 
of England was called Isabella ; it is not therefore an error without 
» parallel. 



452 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

of Saxony or the landgrave of Hesse, the two chiefs Oi 
Protestantism.* Wolsey exclaimed in alarm, "It will 
be an inconvenience to Christendom, they are so Luther* 
an? But the Hungarian ambassador so satisfied him, 
that in the end he did not find the matter quite so incon- 
venient. 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 prothonotary, 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. 

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 Fran- 
cis ; 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 favor. Anne 
even gave utterance to several biting sarcasms against 
the cardinal, and the duke of Norfolk and his party be- 
gan " 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 
ehall 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 illustri- 
ous nation. The cardinal's anguish cannot be described ; 

° Du Bellay to Montmorency, January 12, 1629. Le Grind, 
Freuvefl p. 279. 



ONE RESOTJBCE LEFT. 



4S8 



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. " How- 
ever, ... he is more cunning than they are "* 

To still the tempest Wolsey had only one resource 
left : this was to render Clement favorable to his mas* 
ter's designs. The crafty Cam pan a, who had burnt the 
decretal, conjured him not to believe all the reports trans- 
mitted to him concerning Rome. "To satisfy the king," 
said Le to the cardinal, "the holy father will, if neces- 
sary, descend from the pontifical throne."f Wolsey there- 
fore 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 unex- 
pected event fanned once more his loftiest hopes, 

• Le Grand, Preuves, pp. 296, 296. 
f Burnet, Hist. Eef. vol. 1, p. 60. 



iU HISTOBY OP THE BEFORMATION. 



CHAPTER VI. 

H&o pope's illness — Wolsey's desire — Conference about the member* 
of the conclave — Wolsey's instructions — The pope recoTers — 
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 clear-sightedness- 
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. 

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, appar- 
ently in a dying state. When this news reached Lon- 
don, the cardinal resolved to hasten to abandon England, 
where the soil trembled under his feet, and to elicit 
boldly to the throne of the pontiffs. Bryan and Vannes, 
then at Florence, hurried on to Rome through roads in- 
fested with robbers. At Or vie to 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 learned that Clement 
could not survive, and that the imperialists, supported 
by the Colonnas, were striving to have a pope devoted 
to Charles V.* 

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 expe- 
Jient to have such a pope as may save the realm/' said 
he to Gardiner. "And although it cannot but be in- 
commodious to me in this mine old age to be the com« 
mon father, yet when all things be well pondered, the 
qualities of all the cardinals well considered, I am the 
only c rie, without boasting, that can and will remedy tha 

• Stei* Pspew, 7, pp, 148-160. 



PARTIES AMONG THE CARDINALS. 458 



king's secret matter. And were it not for the redinte- 
gration of the state of the church, and especially to 
relieve the king and his realm from their calamities, all 
the riches and honor of the world should not cause me 
to accept the said dignity. Nevertheless I conform my- 
self 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 labor. 
I give you the amplest powers, without restriction 01 
limitation."* Gardiner departed to win for his master 
the coveted tiara. 

Henry VIII. and Wolsey, who could hardly restrain 
their impatience, soon heard of the pontiffs death from 
different quarters.f " The emperor has taken away Clem- 
ent's life," J said Wolsey, blinded by hatred. "Charles," 
rejoined the king, " will endeavor 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."§ " 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." 

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 
favored the emperor. "There was no C," says a chron- 
icler sarcastically, "to signify any on Christ's side." 
The letter N designated the neutrals. " The cardinals 

• Foxe, Acts, 4, p. 601. 

f By sundry ways hath been advertised of the death of our holy 
father. Ibid. The king's Instructions. 

J By some detestable act committed for the late pope's destr no- 
tion. Ibid. p. 603. 

§ By little and little utterly to exclude and extinguish him and 
his authority. Ibid. 



456 HISTOBT OF THE BEEOBMATION. 



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 there- 
fore, at any price, gain six of the neutrals." 

Wolsey, deeply sensible of the importance of an elec- 
tion that would decide whether England was to be re- 
formed 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 ear- 
nestly. 

" 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 be- 
fore 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 bal- 
ance, it appertaineth in matter of so high importance, to 
the comfort and relief of all Christendom, to succor 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 favorable to us in a perfect fastness and in- 
dissoluble knot. And that they may be the better ani- 
mated to finish the election to the king's desire, you shall 
offer them a guard of two thousand or three thousand 
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 king shall repair 
to some sure place, and there prDceed to such an election 
as may be to God's pleasure. 

"And to win more friends for the king, you shall 



ALARMING NEWS. 451 

promise, on the one hand, to the Cardinal de* Medici and 
his party our special favor ; and the Florentines, on the 
other hand, you shall put in comfort of the exclusion of 
the said family T)e* 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."* 

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 perfi- 
dies 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 lib- 
eral 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. "f 

Wolsey found his excuse in the thought that, if he 
succeeded, the divorce was secured, and England en- 
slaved for ever to the court of Rome. 

Success at first appeared probable. Many cardinals 
spoke openly in favor 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 in- 
structions," wrote the cardinal, "and reserve them in 
omnem eventum" 

Wolsey not having obtained the tiara, it was neces- 
sary at least to gain the divorce. " God declares," said 

• Foxe, 4, pp. 604-608. 

f Lea sept peches mortels ont porte la tiare. Casimir Dela 
vigne, Derniers chants, le Conclave- 

Htot. ofRef. Vol, V. 



458 HISTORY OP' THE BEPORMATION. 



the English ambassadors to the pope, "'Except the LorJ 
build the house, they labor in vain that build it.** There- 
fore 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 sec- 
ond 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 refu- 
sal, whatever bulls or briefs there may be.f The only 
issue of this matter is the divorce ; the divorce, in one 
way or another, must be procured." 

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.J 
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 spir- 
itual 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."$ "Increase in importunity," an- 
swered the king ; " the cardinal of Verona should remain 
about the pope's person, and counterbalance the influ- 
ence of De Angelis and the archbishop of Capua. I 
would rather lose my two crowns than be beaten by 
these two friars." 

Thus was the struggle about to become keener than 
ever, wh^n 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 

• Where Christ is not the foundation, surely no building can be 
of good work. State Papers, 7, p. 122. 

f Convolare ad secundas nuptias non patitur negativum. Ibid, 
p. 138. 

% Which words, fashioned with a familiarity and somewhat with 
earnestness and gravity. Ibid. § Ibid. 1, p. 880, 



STRATAGEMS AND BELAYS. 459 



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 ;* 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,f the pope 
promised to examine the letter from Spain. Vannes be 
gan 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 immedi- 
ately that this brief is not a brief," said he to the pope. 
" The king of England, who is your holiness' son, is not 
so like the rest of the world. We cannot put the same 
shoe on every foot." J 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."§ " Be pleased to explain yourself," 
replied Vannes, who found the finger a very little mat- 
ter. " I mean," resumed the pontiff, " that I shall em- 
ploy every means, provided they are honorable." Vannes 
withdrew disheartened. 

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 en- 
deavored to stop them, and made their way into his bed- 
chamber, dement opposed them with that resistance 
of inertia by which the popedom has gained its greatest 
victories: sttuit, he remained silent. Of what conse- 
quence 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 

• Burnet's Ref. 1, p. 49. 

f Postquam conjunctim omnes. State Papers, 7, p. 154. 
| Uno eodemque calceo omnium pedes velle vestire. Ibid, jx 
r66. 

§ Quod forsan non licebit to to capita assequi, in eo digitom ira 
ponam. Ibid. p. 167. 



460 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



" be Gfesar's servant, not only in a temple, but in a sta* 
ble if necessary, than be exposed to the insults of rebels 
and vagabonds."* At the same time he wrote to Cam- 
peggio, " Do not irritate the king, but spin out this mat* 
ter as much as possible ;f the Spanish brief gives us 
the means " 

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 seek- 
ing the original in Spain," wrote he to one of his ambas- 
sadors ; "it may exasperate the emperor." We know 
how cautious the cardinal was towards Charles. In- 
trigue attained its highest point at this epoch, and Eng- 
lishmen 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."! Henry's envoys to 
the pope intercepted the letters sent from Rome, and 
had Campeggio seized. § 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."|| 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, 

• Malle Caesari a stabulo nedum a sacris inservire, quam inferi- 
Oram hDminum subditorum, vassaloram, rebellium injurias sustl 
nere. Herbert, 1, p. 261. 

f Le Grand, 1, p. 131. 

X Burnet's Reformation, 1, p. 64. 

§ De intercipiendis Uteris. State Papers, 7, p 186. 

| Ibid, p. 167. 



A LAST EFFOBT MADE* 



461 



wrote to him, "We have been able to find nothing that 
would satisfy your ambassadors."* 

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,f 
gave way to all his violence. " Very well then," said 
he, "my lords and I well know how to withdraw our- 
selves from the authority of the Roman see." Wolsey 
turned pale, and conjured his master not to rush into 
that fearful abyss ; J Campeggio too endeavored to revive 
the king's hopes. But it was all of no use. Henry 
recalled his ambassadors. 

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 inflex- 
ibility 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 Scyila, and not fall into Charybdis ?"§ He beg- 
ged the king to make one last effort by sending Dr. Ben- 
net 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 ?|| . . . The mat- 
ter 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 

* He added, Tametsi noctes ac dies per nos ipsi, ac per juris 
peritissimos viros omnes vias tentemus. State Papers, 7, p. 165. 

f Incredibili patientia et humanitate. Burnet, Eecords, p. 32. 

J Ne praeoeps hue vel illuc rex hie ruat curamus. Ibid. p. 33, 

§ Hanc Charybdin et hos scopulos evitasse. Ibid. p. 32. 

(I Sensuum suadela earn abrumpere cupiat cousuetudiuem. Ibid 
p. S3. 



468 HISTORY OP THE BEFOBMATIOfl . 



our fortunes, and even our livea, depend upon the nod 
of a foreigner ? We must abolish, or at the very least 
diminish, the authority of the Roman pontiff.* . . . 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.f This appeared a cruel irony to 
Tudor ; the king requested a favor 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?" 

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 pro- 
nounce the avocation, to appeal from the pope, the false 
bead of the church, to the true vicar of Jesus Christ.], 
This was almost in Luther's style. Who was this true 
vicar ? Probably a pope nominated by the influence of 
England. 

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 prel- 
ates 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 

° Qui nullum aut certe diminutam hie Romani pontificis auctori 
tatem. Burnet, Records, p. 33. 

f Dubitare non debes si quidem volueris recordare tua erga nof 
merita. State Papers, 7, p. 178. 

X A non vicark ad verum vicarium Jesu Christi. Ibid. p. 19. 



WOLSEY'S GRIEF. 



453 



part in it.* 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 favor 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 thufc 
I were going to be buried to-morrow 1" 

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/ 1 
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 ail attention, 
and began to think that the proud vessel of Albion, cut- 
ting the cable that bound her to the pontiffs, would bold- 
ly spread ber canvas 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 meas- 
ure political. It loses a kingdom by a royal quarrel^ 
and might in this same way lose ten. 

• Dn Bellay to Montmorency, May 22. te Grand Preuves. p 

219 



464 HISTOBY OP THE EEFORMATION. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Blecnssion between the Evangelicals and the Catholics — Union of 
learning and life— The laity — Tewkesbury — His appearance bo- 
fore the bishop's court — He is tortured — Two classes of oppo* 
nents — A theological duel — Scripture and the church — Emanci- 
pation of the mind — Mission to the Low Countries — Tyndale'a 
embarrassment — Tonstall wishes to buy the books — Packington'i 
stratagem — Tyndale departs for Antwerp — His shipwreck — Arri 
val at Hamburg— Meets Coverdale. 

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 Chris- 
tian 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 Ox- 
ford and Cambridge. The Evangelicals and the Catho- 
lics — not very catholic indeed — warmly discussed the 
great questions which the progress of events brought 
before the world. The former maintained that the prim- 
itive 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 Christian- 
ity. 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 immuta- 
ble laws ; while 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, 



JOHN TEWKESBUBY. 



465 



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 them- 
selves 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 doc- 
trine from the wells of the Scriptures of God. It was 
the harmony between these two elements, the one theo- 
logical, the other practical, which constituted the strength 
of the EngJish reformation. 

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 ot 
his conversion. Being a man of heart and understand- 
ing, clever in all he undertook, a ready and fluent speak- 
er, and liking to get to the bottom of every thing, Tewkes- 
bury 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 deter- 
mined 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 de- 
tails of the kingdom of God ; and in the history of the 

3° 



4§6 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 Eng- 
land : it was necessary for the English bishops, by crush- 
ing 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 de- 
termined 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 Lin- 
coln, 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 justi- 
fication by faith. 

" 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 judg- 
ment 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 learned the faults of my soul.* If 
there is a disagreement between you and the New Tes- 
tament, 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.f Annoyed at being catechised by a layman, 
• Foxe, 4. p. 690. t Md. p. 689. 



MORE'S "DIALOGUE." 



461 



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 ago- 
ny to which the priests replied by a shout of exultation. 
The Ldexible merchant had promised at last to renounce 
f yndale's Wicked Mammon. Tewkesbury left the Tower 
" almost a cripple,"* 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. 

We must, however, acknowledge that the "ques- 
tion" 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 advo- 
cate 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,f "from 
which the honestest men of his profession are not free." 
Jests and sarcasms had fallen from his pen in his dis- 
cussion with Tyndale, as in his controversy with Lu- 
ther. 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 labored to be 
brought into England."| 

• Foxe, 4, p. 689. 

f Nisard, Hommes illustres de la renaissance. Revue da Dem 
Monde*. 

J The Dialogue consisted of 250 pages, and was printed by John 
Rastell, More's brother-in-law. Tyndale's answer did not appe&i 
until later : we have thought it our duty to introduce it here* 



468 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 Scrip- 
ture, and More the champion of the church. More hav- 
ing called his book & dialogue, Tyndale adopted this form 
in his reply,* 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 hie- 
rarchy above the faith ; the Reformation was to restore 
faith to its place above the hierarchy. 

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 
2:1; Rom. 15:4; Matt. 22 : 29.f 

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 mockery. 

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 
aot to abstain from writing of them for fear lest the hea- 
then should have mocked them.J 

More. We must not examine the teaching of the 
eaurch by Scripture, but understand Scripture by means 
01 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, 

• Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue. 

t Ibid. p. 101. % Ibid, t>p 28, 29. 



BORIPTUBE AND THE OHUROH. 469 



or the gospel before the church ? Is not the fathei old- 
er than the son ? " God begat us with his own will, 
with the word of truth," says St. James 1 : 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 under- 
stand 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.* 

More. The church is the pope and his sect or follow- 
ers. 

Tyndale. The pope teacheth us to trust in holy 
works for salvation, as penance, saints' merits, and 
friars* coats.f Now he that hath no faith to be saved 
through Christ, is not of Christ's church.J 

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 oi 
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 at- 
tached to what you call heresies, and then they took 
wive? ; but yours were first attached to the holy doctrino 
of the pope, and then they took harlots.§ 

More. Luther's books be open, if ye will not believe ua 

Tyndale. Nay, ye have shut them up, and ha^e even 
burnt them. || . . . 

More. I marvel that you deny purgatory, Si/* Will* 

° Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, pp. 12, 18. 
t Ibid. p. 40. % Ibid. p. 39. 

j Ibid. p. 104. || Ibid. p. 189, 



470 HISTOBY OP THE REFORMATION, 



iam, except it be a plain point with you to go straight to 
hell* 

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.f 

More. Faith then is your purgatory, you say ; ther 
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.J 

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 
Eoman 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, embar- 
rassed by the course the latter was taking, wrote to 
Tonstall, "I cannot heartily congratulate More."§ 

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 there- 
fore despatched More, Knight, and Tonstall ; but Wol- 
sey had created so many delays that they 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 JuLtf 



• Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p. 214. 

t Ibid. % Ibid. p. 197. 

§ Thomas Moro non admodum gratulor. Eraem. Epp. p. 1478, 



TTNDALE'S EMBARBASSMENT. 411 



to make him swallow the dose* Henry was angry with 
Wolsey, Wolsey threw the blame on the ambassador, 
and the ambassador defended himself, he tells us, " with 
tooth and naii."t 

By way of compensation, the English envoys con- 
cluded with the emperor a treaty prohibiting on both 
sides the printing and sale of "any Lutheran books." J 
Some of them could have wished for a good persecution, 
for a few burning piles, it may be. A singular oppor- 
tunity 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 intel- 
ligent men in Britain could not fail to accomplish. " Tyn- 
dale 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, 
Harm an arrested me at Antwerp for damages, caused 
by his imprisonment ? If you can lay any thing 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.§ These merchants are so 
proud of their franchises, that they would resist even 
Charles himself." This anecdote was not at all calcu- 
lated to encourage More; and not caring about a pur- 
suit which promised to be of little use, he returned to 
England. But the bishop of London, who was left be- 
hind, persisted in the project, and repaired to Antwerp 
to put it in execution. 

Tyndale was at that time greatly embarrassed ; con- 
siderable debts, incurred with his printers, compelled 

• Juillet preparatoire pour lui faire avaler le m^decine 

f Du bee et des ongles. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, 

8, p. 328. % Herbert, p. 316. 

§ Hackett to Wolsey, Brussels, April x3, 1529. Bible Annals, 

vcL 1, p. 199. 



472 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



him to suspend his labors. Nor was this all : the prel- 
ate 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 dis- 
simulation, 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 poison- 
ed." " 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 sure of them all." " Oh, 
Oh," thought the bishop, " now, as the proverb says, I 
shall have God by the toe* Gentle Master Packing- 
ton," 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. 

Packington, being one of those men who love to con- 
ciliate 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 Tyn- 
dale. " 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 bish- 
op 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.* 
u I consent," said the reformer at last ; " I shall pay my 

• Faxe. 4, p- 680. 



TYNDALE SHIPWRECKED. 



debts, and bring out a new and more correct edition of 
the Testament." The bargain was made. 

Erelong the danger thickened around Tyndale. Pla- 
cards, posted at Antwerp and throughout the province, 
announced that the emperor, in conformity with the 
treaty of Cambray, was about to proceed against the 
xeformers 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 Ham- 
burg, and took 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. "Sa- 
tan, envying the happy course and success of the gos- 
pel," says a chronicler, " set to his might how to hinder 
the blessed labors of this man."* The seamen toiled, 
Tyndale prayed, all hope was lost. The reformer alone 
was full of courage, not doubting that God would pre- 
serve 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.f What 
labors, 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 
he sea. Recovering his spirits, however, he went on 
board another ship, entered the Elbe, and at last reached 
Hamburg. 

Great joy was in store for him in that city. Cover 
• Foxe, 6, p. 120. 

t Lost both his money, his copies. Ibid, 5, p. 120. 



474 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 

dale, Poxe informs us, was waiting there to confer with 
him and to help him in his labors.* It has been sur> 
posed that Coverdale went to Hamburg to invite Tyn- 
dale, in Cromwell's name, to return to England ;f but it 
is merely a conjecture, and requires confirmation. As 
early as 1527, Coverdale had made known to Cromwell 
Ins desire to translate the Scriptures. J It was natural 
ihat, meeting with difficulties in this undertaking, he 
should desire to converse with Tyndale. The two friends 
lodged with a pious woman named Margaret van Em- 
mersen, 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. 

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 /6 
until some striking event should give it increased im- 
portance. And besides, just at that moment, very dif- 
ferent matters were engaging public attention on the 
banks of the Thames, and the liveliest emotions agitated 
every mind. 

• Coverdale tarried for him and helped him. Foxe. 
f Anderson' 8 Annals of the Bible, 1, p. 240. 
X This is the date assigned in Coverdale' s Remains, Park Soa, 
p. 490. 



THE ROYAL SESSION. 



4W 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Royal Session — Sitting of the 18th June ; the Queen's Protest- 
Bitting 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— Wol- 
sey chafed by Henry — The Earl of Whitshire at Wolsey's — Pri- 
vate Conference between Catherine and the two Legates. 

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."* No doubt he had made some brilliant prom- 
ise. 

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 19 th of March, Salviati, the pope's 
uncle and secretary of state, wrote to Campeggio about 
it.f Henry's process once in the court of the pontifical 
chancery, it would have been long before it got ou 
again. Accordingly on the 31st of May, the king, by a 
warrant under the great seal, gave the legates leave t 
execute their commission, "without any regard to hi 
own person, and having the fear of God only before their 

• Burnet, Records, p. 35. 

t E quanto altro non si possa, forse si pensera ad awocare la 
oerasa a se. Lettere di 13 uomini illustri, 19th March, 1529. 



476 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



eyes."* The legates themselves had suggested this 
formula to the king. 

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. f The trial was to 
be a farce, played by a pope and two cardinals. 

The ecclesiastical court met in the great hall of the 
Blackfriars, commonly called the "parliament chamber." 
The two legates having successively taken the commis- 
sion in their hands, devoutly declared that they were 
resolved to execute it — they should have said, tc 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 peo- 
ple. "What," said they, " a king and a queen constrained 
to appear, in their own realm, before their own sub- 
jects?" The papacy set an example which was to be 
strictly followed in after-years both in England and in 
France. 

On the 18th of June, Catherine appeared before the 
commission in the parliament chamber, and stepping for- 
ward with dignity, said with a firm voice, "I protest 
against the legates as incompetent judges, and appeal 
to the pope."! ^ n ^ s proceeding of the queen's, her pride 
and firmness, troubled her enemies, and in their vexation 
they grew exasperated against her. " Instead of pray- 
ing God to bring this matter to a good conclusion," 
they said, "she endeavors 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 

0 Ut solum Deum prae oculis habentis. Rymer, Acta ad annum. 

f Sua beatitudine ricorda, che il procedere sia lento ed in modo 
alcuno non si venghi al giudicio. To Card. Campeggio, 29th May, 1629. 
Lett, di Principi. 

X So in illos tanquam j idices suos non assentire, ad papain pro* 
vocavit Sanders, p. 32. 



SESSION OF THE 21ST OF JUNE. 411 



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."* But persons of generous heart, seeing 
only a queen, a wife, and a mother attacked in her dear- 
est affections, showed themselves full of sympathy for 
her. 

On the 21st of June, the day to which the court ad- 
journed, the two legates entered the parliament cham 
ber 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 West- 
minster, and Doctor Taylor, Master of the Rolls, whom 
they had added to their commission. Below them were 
the secretaries, among whom the skilful Stephen Gar- 
diner 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 counsellers 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." 

The pontifical commission having been read, the 
legates declared that they would judge without fear or 
favor, and would admit of neither recusation nor ap- 
peal f Then the usher cried, " Henry, king of Eng. 
land, come into court." The king, cited in his own 
capital to accept as judges two priests, his subjects, re- 
pressed the throbbing of his proud heart, and replied, in 
the hope that this strange trial would have a favorable 
issue, "Here I am." The usher continued, "Catherine 
queen of England, come into court." The queen handud 

° Burnet's Eef. 1, p. 64. 

f The king's letter to his ambassadors at Bome, 334 June. Bui* 
net's Bet, Records, p. 54. 



418 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



the cardinals a paper in which she protested against 
the legality of the court, as the judges were the subjects 
of her opponent,* and appealed to Rome. The cardinals 
declared they could not admit this paper, and conse* 
quently 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 leg- 
ates, 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 dis- 
tance 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 wom- 
an 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 1 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 al- 
ways 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 f jr 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." 

The judges, and even the most servile of the court- 
iers were touched when they heard these simple and 
eloquent words, and the queen's sorrow moved them al- 
most to tears. Catherine continued : 

* Personas judicum non solum regi devinctas veruin et subjects 
esse, Sanders, p. 35. 



THE QUEEN WITHDRAWS. 



479 



" 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 con- 
tented to depart from your kingdom, albeit to my great 
hame and dishonor ; and if there be none, then let me 
remain in my former estate until death. Who united 
as ? 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 law- 
ful. Who are my judges ? Is not one the man that has 
put sorrow between you and me?* — a judge whom 
I refuse and abhor. Who are the counsellors 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 favor, . . . 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." 

Thus spoke Catherine through her tears ;f 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.}, 

0 Qui dissensioiiem inter ipsam et virum Buum. Polyd. Virg. 

p. 688. 

f Haec ilia flebiliter dicente. Ibid. p. 686, and Cavendish. 

1 Burnet, Records, p. 36. In this letter the king says, Both w$ 
and the queen appeared in person. 



480 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



Shf 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 a his- 
torian says,* 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." 

Henry was greatly embarrassed : Catherine's words 
aad moved him. Catherine's defence, one of the most 
touching in history, had gained over the accuser him- 
self. He therefore felt constrained to render this testi- 
mony 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 in- 
dignation were turned upon him.f 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 ; J 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 

• Fuller, p. 173. 

f Vidisses W olseum infestis fere omnium oculis conspicL Polyd 
Virg. p. 688. 

t Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, pp. 186, 819. 



HENBY JUSTIFIES HIMSELF. 



481 



a mover, ye have been rather against me in attempting 
thereof. It was the bishop of Tarbes, the French am- 
bassador, 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 1521, and we have proofs that 
tie king was meditating a divorce in 1526.* "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 1" exclaimed 
the king, showing him a paper which he held in his 
hand; "is not this your hand and seal?" "No, for- 
sooth," 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," re- 
joined 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."f The court adjourned. The day had 
been better for Catherine than for the prelates. 

In proportion as the first sitting had been pathetic, 

• See Pace's letter to Henry in 1526. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 1. 
Pace there shows that it is incorrect to say, Deuteronomium abrogcant 
Leviticum — Deuteronomy abrogates Leviticus— so far as concerns the 
prohibition to take the wife of a deceased brother, 
f Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 223. 

SU1* of Bet, V«L 31 



482 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 
T know it," replied the bishop of Rochester. " What do 
you mean?" asked Wolsey. "My lord/' he q lowered, 
"he was the very Truth who said, What God hathjoirjed 
together, let not man put asunder : that is enough for me." 
"So every body 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. 

The agitations of the court spread to the convents ; 
priests, monks, and nuns were everywhere in commo- 
tion. 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 ita 
eyes ; but other miracles were invented. " An angel," 
it was rumored, " has appeared to Elizabeth Barton, the 
maid of Kent, as he did formerly to Adam, to the patri- 
archs, and to Jesus Christ." At the epochs of the crea- 
tion 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 unat- 
tended 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 ol 



A SKPABATXON PBOPOSED. 483 



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 ; tie 
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,* whont 
ao thing could now stop. 

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 sum- 
moned the cardinal to him at Bridewell. Wolsey hast- 
ened 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 fore- 
head, " A very warm day, my lord." " Yes," replied 
the unhappy Wolsey, " if you had been chafed for an 
nour 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 oc- 
curred 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 

* She showed this unto the king. Letter to Cromwell in Strype, 
vol. 1, p. 272. 



484 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATION. 



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 * Boleyn, desirous of seeing 
his daughter queen of England, feared perhaps that he 
had taken a wrong course. " It is well," said the cardi- 
nal, recollecting that the message came from Henry 
VII] " I am ready to do every thing to please his maj- 
esty P He rose, went to Bath Place to fetch Campeg- 
gio, and together they waited on the queen. 

The two legates found Catherine quietly at work with 
her maids of honor. Wolsey addressed the queen in 
Latin : " Nay, my lord," she said, " speak to me in Eng- 
lish ; I wish all the world could hear you." " We de- 
sire, 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 withdraw- 
ing 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 under- 
stand what she said." Catherine, instead of justifying 
herself, boldly accused her judge. "I know, Sir Caidi- 
nal," she said with noble candor, "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 kin- 
dled a war in Europe, and have stirred up against me 
this most wicked matter. God will be my judge .... 
mid yours." Wolsey would have replied, but Catherine 
• Cavendish, p. 226. 



WOLSEY VEXED — CAMPEGGIO PLEASED. 485 

haughtily refused to hear him, and while treating Cam* 
peggio with great civility, declared that she would not 
acknowledge either of them as her judge. The cardi* 
nals withdrew, Wolsey full of vexation, and Campeggio 
beaming with joy, for the business was getting more 
complicated. Every hope of accommodation was lost* 
nothing reraained now but to proceed judicially. 



486 HISTORY 07 THE REFORMATION 



CHAPTER IX. 

The trial resumed — Catherine summoned — Twelve articles - The 
witnesses' evidence — Arthur and Catherine really mamed— 
Campeggio opposes the argument of Divine right—Other argu- 
ments — The legates required to deliver judgment —Their tergi- 
versations — 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 cardi- 
nal turns to an episcopal life. 

The trial was resumed. The bishop of Bath and 
Wells waited upon the queen at Greenwich, and per* 
emptorily summoned her to appear in the parliament- 
chamber.* On the day appointed, Catherine limited 
herself to sending an appeal to the pope. She was de 
clared contumacious, and the legates proceeded with the 
cause. 

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 Cathe* 
rine, being forbidden both by the law of God and of the 
church, was null and void.f 

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 Cher- 
bury'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 vis- 
count Fitz waiter 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 

° Tn quadam superiori camera: the queen's dining chamber, nuncu- 
jvata, 26 die mensis junii. Rymer, Acta, p. 119. 

+ Dif ino, ecclesiastico jure . . . nullo omnino et invaliduni. Her* 

Urt, p. m 



ARGUMENTS OF THE KING'S COUNSEL. 481 



sound health, and reported the conversation that took 
place.* The old duchess of Norfolk, the earl of Shrews- 
bury, and the marquis of Dorset confirmed these declara 
tions, 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.f 

"If Arthur and Catherine were really married," said 
the king's counsellors after these extraordinary depo- 
sitions, " the marriage of this princess with Henry, Ar- 
thur'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 there- 
fore 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 ;J 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 threat- 
ened their harmony. Moreover, it is said in this docu- 
ment 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 
Kome ; 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 ?" 

• Quod ArtLurns mane postridie potum flagitaret, idqne ut 
aiebant quoniam diceret se ilia nocte in calida Hispaniarum regions 
peregrinatum fuisse. Sanders, p. 43. 

f Foxe, 6, p. 61. 

% Herbert gives them at length, pp. 264-267. 



488 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



The king's advocates then changed their course. Was 
not the Roman legate provided with a decretal pronounc- 
ing the divorce, in case it should be proved that Arthur's 
marriage had been really consummated ? Now, this 
fact has been proved by the depositions. "Tits is the 
moment for delivering judgment," said Henry and his 
counsellors to Campeggio. "Publish the pope's de* 
cretal." 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 judg- 
ment in five days," said he ; and when the five days 
were expired, he bound himself to deliver it in six. " Re- 
store 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. 

Such conduct on the part of the Roman legate pro- 
duced an unfavorable effect in England, and a change 
took place in the public mind. The first movement had 
been for Catherine ; the second was for Henry. Clem- 
ent's endless delays and Campeggio's stratagems ex- 
asperated 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 pas- 
sions 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 di* 
vorce. On the 21st of July, the day fixed ad conclur 
dendum } the cause was adjourned until the Friday follow- 
ing, and no one doubted that the matter would then be 
terminated. 

All prepared for this important day. The king or- 
dered the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk to be present at 



SEASONS FOU ABJOUENMENT. 489 



the Sitting of the court; and being himself impatient to 
hear the so much coveted judgment, he stole into a gal* 
lery of the parliament chamber facing the judges. 

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 ; 
every one 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 de- 
cision which for so many years the powerful king of 
England had sought from the Eoman pontiff. "The 
general vacation of the harvest and vintage," he said, 
" being observed every year by the court of Rome, dat- 
ing from to-morrow, the 24th of July, the beginning of 
the dog-days, we adjourn to some future period the con- 
clusion of these pleadings."* 

The auditors were thunderstruck. "What, because 
the malaria renders the air of Rome dangerous at the 
end of July, and compels the Romans to clos© their 
courts, must a trial be broken off on the banks of the 
Thames, when its conclusion is looked for so impatient- 

° Feriae generates messium et vindemiamm. Herbert, p. 278; 
Cavendish, p. 229. 



490 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



ly T 9 The people hoped for a judicial sentence, and they 
were answered with a jest ; it was thus Rome made 
spoit 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 compe- 
tency of the court ; I must therefore make my report to 
the pope, who is the source of life and honor, 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 success- 
fully through all the windings of ecclesiastical proce- 
dure, 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. 

Norfolk, Suffolk, and the other courtiers did not fol- 
low 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 De- 
fender 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."* " Sir, of all men in this realm," replied 

° Mensam quae proponebatur magno ictu concutiens: Per sacram 
tnquit, missam, nemo unquam legatorum aut cardinalium quicquam 
boci ad Angliam apportavit. Sanders, p. 49. 



CHANGE IN THE KING'S MIND 



491 



Wolsey, "you have the least cause to dispaiage cardi- 
nals, for if I, poor cardinal, had not been, you would not 
have a head on your shoulders."* It would seem that 
Wolsey pacified Henry at the time of the duke's mar- 
riage 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.f The legates, remaining with their officers, 
looked at each other for a few moments. At last Cam- 
peggio, who alone had remained calm during this scene 
of violence, arose, and the audience dispersed. 

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 mak- 
ing sport of him. Clement and Wolsey tossed his di- 
vorce from one to the other like a ball which, now at 
Rome and now in London, seemed fated to remain per- 
petually 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 favorable opportunity, and giving an unexpected 
solution to the matter. 

Wblsey 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 Wol- 
sey. From the period of the Roman Vacations the car- 
dinal was ruined in his master's mind. Wolsey's enemies 
seeing his favor decline, hastened to attack him. Suf- 
folk 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 ; 

• Cavendish, p. 233. 

f Duces ex judicio discendentes, tit ipsi omnibus iracindire flam- 
mis urebantur. Sanders, p. 49. 



492 HISTOBY OF THE ^REFORMATION 



they went ever all his negotiations month by month and 
day by day, and drew the most overwhelming conclu- 
sions from them. Sir William Kingston and Lord Man- 
ners 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 Eng- 
land.* 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, 

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 bad, 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 ;f oppressed 
the nation, and trodden under foot the laws of the king- 
dom. 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 
bo laboriously erected.J 

Wolsey was too clear-sighted not to discern the signs 
of his approaching fall. " Both the rising and the set- 
ting sun," for thus a historian calls Anne Boleyn and 
Catherine of Aragon, "frowned upon him, w § and the sky, 
growing darker around him, gave token of the storm 
that was to overwhelm him. If the cause failed, Wol- 
sey incurred the vengeance of the king ; if it succeeded* 
he would be delivered up to the vengeance of the Bo- 
leyns, without speaking of Catherine's, the emperor's 
and the pope's. Happy Campeggio, thought the cardi 

• Edm. Campion De divortio. Herbert, p. 289. 
f Du Bellay's Letters, Le Grand, Preuves, p. 374. 
I Novis etiam furorifl et insaniae facibus incenderunt. Sanders 
p. 49. § Fuller, p. 176. 



A MAKTYB TO HIS FAITH. 



493 



nal, he has nothing to fear. If Henry's favor is with- 
drawn 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 Bel- 
lay 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 ;* and the cardinal met 
with an unusual reserve in his former confidant. 

Yet the crisis approached. Like a skilful but affright* 
ed 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 dis- 
graces. 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 ! 

° I)u Bellay to Montmorency, 16th June. Le Grand, Preuves, 
p. 824 



494 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION 



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 2* men — 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. 

While these things were taking place, Anne was 
living at Hever Castle in retirement and sadness. Scru- 
ples 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 mar- 
riage 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 oy a pope : 
the security of the state must be provided for before 
every thing else. Carried away by these arguments, and 
dazzled by the splendor of a throne, Anne Boleyn con- 
sented 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 ex- 
perienced. 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. 

Anne had neither the deep piety of a Bilney, nor the 



ANNE RECALLED TO COUBT. 495 



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 super- 
stition and pharisaism. Her mind required light and 
activity, and at that time she sought in reading the con- 
solations 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 recom- 
mendation to Anne. " If thou believe the promises," 
she read, " then God's truth justifieth thee ; that is, for- 
giveth 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.* 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."f These words did not change Anne's 
heart, but she marked with her nail, as was her cus- 
tom,^ 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. 

Anne was soon dragged from these pious lessons, 
and launched into the midst of a world fall of dangers. 
Henry, convinced that he had nothing to expect hence- 
forward from Campeggio, neglected those proprieties 
which he had hitheito observed, and immediately after 
the adjournment ordered Anne Boleyn to return to court ; 
lie restored her to the place she had formerly occupied, 

• Tyndale and Fryth's Works, vol. 1, p. 295. 
f Tyndale' s Works, vol. 1, p. 300. 
% WyaU's Memoirs, p 438. 



486 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOIiMATION. 



and even surrounded hei with increased splendor. 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. 

After her return to court, Anne read much less fr&> 
q uently The Obedience of a Christian Man and the Testa 
nient of Jesus Christ. Henry's homage, her friends' in 
trigues, 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* attached to her 
person, took it up and read it. A gentleman of hand- 
some mien, cheerful temper, and extreme mildness, 
named George Zouch, also belonging to Anne's house- 
hold, and betrothed to Miss Gainsford, profiting by the 
liberty his position gave him, indulged sometimes in 
"love tricks."f 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, threaten- 
ing him with her finger. 

As she did not return immediately, George withdrew 
to his room, and opened the volume ; it was the Obedi 
ence 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."J The words which had only made a tem- 
porary impression on the preoccupied mind of Anne 
Boleyn, penetrated to the heart of her equerry and con 
verted 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 
• Strype, 1, p. 171. t N>id. P- 172. J Ibid. p. 172. 



ZOUCH IN THE KING'S CHAPEL. 



tears failed to make him give up a volume in which to€ 
aad 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." 

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 chant* 
ed the service, George would be absorbed in his book, 
where he read, "Jf when thou seest the celebration of 
the sacrament of the Lord's supper, thou belie vest 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 be- 
hold a bush at a tavern door, if thou knewest not there- 
by that there was w T ine within to be sold."* 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 Caesar. 

Wolsey, desirous of removing from the court every 
thing that might favor the Reformation, had recom- 
mended extreme vigilance to Dr. Sampson, so as to pre- 
vent the circulation of the innovating books. Accord- 
ingly one day when George was in the chapel absoibed 
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 V 9 Zouch having replied, the dean withdrew 
with a very angry look, and carried his prey to the car- 
dinal. 

When Miss Gainsford heard of this mishap, her griel 
was extreme ; she trembled at the thought that the 
Obedience of a Christian Man was in Wolsey's hands 
? Tyndale and Fryth's Works, vol. 1, p. 28§, 



498 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



Not long after this, Anne having asked for her book, 
the young lady fell on her knees, confessed all, and 
begged to be forgiven.* Anne uttered not a word of 
reproach ; her quick mind saw immediately the advan- 
tage she might derive from this affair. " Weil," she 
eaid, " it shall be the dearest book to them that evei the 
dean or cardinal took away." 

"The noble lady," as the chronicler styles her, im 
mediately demanded an interview of the king, and on 
reaching his presence she fell at his feet,f 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. 

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.! Henry's icy reception closed his mouth ; 
the king confined himself to taking the book, and bow- 
ing out the cardinal. This was precisely what Anne 
had hoped for. She begged the king to read the book, 
which he promised to do. 

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 Refor- 
mation in England. Tyndale treated of obedience, " the 
essential principle," as he terms it, " of every political 
or religious community." He declaimed against the un- 
lawful power of the popes, who usurped the lawful 
authority of Christ and of his word. He professed po- 
litical doctrines too favorable doubtless to absolute 
power, but calculated to show that the reformers were 
not, as had been asserted, instigators of rebellion 
Henry read as follows : 

° She on her knees told it all. Strype, vol. 1, p. 172. 
f Upon her knees she desireth the king's help for her book 
Lbl4. + Wyatt's Memoirs, p. 441. 



THE KING BEADS "OBEDIENCE. 1 499 



M 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 maa 
than of every man."* 

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 en- 
sample 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 sub- 
jects."f 

It is probable that these words were less satisfactory 
to the king. He kept on reading : 

"Emperors and kings arc nothing now-a-days but 
even hangmen unto the pope and bishops, to kill whom- 
soever they condemn, as Pilate was unto the scribes and 
Pharisees and high bishops to hang Christ."^ 

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 prcesentia majoris cessat potestas minoris — in the pres- 
ence of the greater the less hath no power.§ The pope, 
against all the doctrine of Christ, which saith, My king- 
dom is not of this world, hath usurped the right of th 
emperor. Kings must make account of their doings 
only to God.|| No person may be exempt from this 
ordinance of God ; neither can the profession of monks 

« Tyndale's Works, edited by Eussell, vol. 1, p. 212. 
f Ibid. p. 233. X Ibid. p. 274. 

§ Ibid. p. 243. U Ibid. p. 220. 



600 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 



and friars, or any thing 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 writ- 
ten, Let every soul submit himself unto the authority 
of the higher powers."* Rom. 13. 

"What excellent reading 1" exclaimed Henry, when 
be had finished ; " this is truly a book for ail kings to 
read, and for me particularly .' ? f 

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 en- 
deavor to instruct Francis I. t 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 reforma- 
tion ; Protestants and Catholics have been equally mis- 
taken when they have regarded him as being favorable 
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. De- 
spising the rebellions of his subjects and the rage of so 
many mighty potentates abroad, he set forward a re- 
ligious reformation, which, beginning with the triple- 
crowned head, came down to all the members of the 
hierarchy." History has rarely delivered a more erro- 
neous 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. 

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 

• l^ndale's Works, p. 213. % Strype, 1, p. 172. 



THE COUBT AT WOODSTOCK. 501 



his apfeen, 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 
afl the charms of the promenade, the chase, and soli 
iude.* Hence he could easily repair to Langley, Graf 
ton, 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 dis- 
tinguished by the superiority of her understanding, not 
only over her own sex, but even over many of the gen- 
tlemen 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 ap- 
paritions, 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. Accord- 
ingly one morning she led the way in the direction ol 
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 reas- 
sured her companions ; they advanced ; they found noth 
ing 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, 

° The letters from the king's secretaries Gardiner and Tuke to 
Wolsey, dated Woodstock, run from the 4th of August to the 8th of 
September. State Papers, 1, pp. 3S&-347. 



602 HISTOBY OP THE REFORMATIO!?. 



congratulating herself on the triumph Henry had gained 
over his imaginary fears.* This prince, who could as 
yet bear with superiority in others, was struck with 
Anne Boleyn's. 

Never too gay nor yet too melancholy, 

A heavenly mind is hers, like angels holy ; 

None purer ever soared above the sky. 

0 mighty marvel, thus may every eye 

See of what monster strange the humble serf am 1 ; 

Monster indeed, for in her frame divine 

A woman's form, man's heart, and angel's head combine, j 

These verses of Clement Marot, written in honor of 
Margaret of Valois, faithfully express what Henry then 
felt for Anne, who had been with Marot in the house- 
hold of that princess. Henry's love may perhaps have 
deceived him as to Anne's excellences. 

• Foxe, 6, p. 136 ; Miss Benger's Life of Anne Boleyn, p. 299. 
f Jamais trop gay, ne trop melancolique, 
Elle a au chef un esprit angelique, 
Le plus subtil qui one au ciel vola. 
0 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 
Oocps feminin, ©our d'homme et tete d'ange* 



EMBAEBASSMENT OP THE POPE. 603 



CHAPTER XI. 

Einlisirassment of the pope — The triumphs of Charles decide him— 
lie traverses the cause to Rome — Wolsey's dejection — Henry's 
wrath — His fears — Wolsey obtains comfort — Arrival of the twc 
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. 

While the court was thus taking its pleasure at 
Wuodstock, Wolsey remained in London a prey to the 
acutest anguish. "This avocation to Rome," wrote he 
to Gregory Da Casale, " will not only completely alien- 
ate the king and his realm from the apostolic see, but 
will ruin me utterly."* This message had hardly reached 
the pops, 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 corces, having 
routed the French army, the pope ac ionger doubted 
that Charles was the elect of heaven. It was not Eu- 
rope 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 
>een unable to withstand Cortez ; could the priest-king 
of Home withstand Charles V.? Cortez had returned 
from Mexico, bringing with him Mexican chiefs in all 
their barbarous splendor, with thousands of pesos, with 

° Non solum regium animum et totum hoc regnum a sedis apo- 
utolicae devotione penitus abalienabit, ac me omnino perdet et fun* 
ditus deatruit. State Papers, 7, p. 189. 



504 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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.* 

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 en- 
voys that he avo/ced to Borne 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 liv- 
ing."! 

When he learned that the fatal blow had been struck, 
Bennet, 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."J "Why is it my fortune* to live in such 
evil days ?" replied the pope, who, in his turn, began to 
weep ;§ " 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." 

On the 15th of July, Da Casale sent the fatal news 

• Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, book 7, chap. 4. 

f Fuller, p. 178. % Burnet, Records, 2, p. 37. § Ibid 



EFFECTS OF THE POPE'S DEOISIOK. 50b 



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 tc 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."* : 
A useless attempt. Far from saving the papacy, Wol- 
sey was to be wrecked along with it. 

Wolsey was thunderstruck. At the very time he 
was assuring Henry of the attachment of Clement and 
Francis, both were deserting him. The "politic hand- 
ling" failed, which the cardinal had thought so skil- 
ful, and which had been so tortuous. 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. 

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. Gar- 
diner, who, after his return from Rome, had been named 
Secretary of State, went down to Langley on the 3d of 
August to communicate it to him. What news for the 
proud Tudor 1 The decision on the divorce was forbid- 
den 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 exchang- 
ing at Bologna the most striking signs of their unchange- 
able 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 ; 

° Ut dictum regem in solitaerga nos benevolentia retinere velis* 
Burnet, Records, p. 38. 

Slat, <* Rat VolY. 



500 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATION. 

and last, but not least, Henry VIII., the proudest mon« 
arch of Christendom, summoned to Home to appear be* 
fore an ecclesiastical tribunal : it was too much for 
Henry. His wrath, a moment restrained, burst forth 
like a clap of thunder,* and all trembled around him 
,4 I>o they presume," he exclaimed, "to try my cause etee 
rhere than in my own dominions ? I, the king of Eng 
and, 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.f I forbid the letters of citation 
to be executed," he continued ; " I forbid the commis- 
sion 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 Eng- 
land, and he hoped, by showing moderation, to hide the 
affront he had received. " Let every thing be done," he 
told Gardiner, " to conceal from my subjects these let- 
ters 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 CampeggioJ and the queen's counsellors ; and 
above all, prevail upon them at any price not to serve 
these citatory letters on me." Rut 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 de- 
sires to have no more to do with England. England ic 
her turn will cast off Rome. Henry will sacrilice Wol 

° He became much incensed. Herbert, p. 287. Supra quain 
dici potest excandm't. Sanders, p. 60. 

f He would do the same with such a mayn [great! and army 
royal, as should be formidable to the pope and aL Italy. State 
Papers, 7, p. 194. Burnet, Records, p. 37. 

X Your grace's dexterity ... by good Landling of the Cardinal 
Oampeggio. State Papers, vol. 1, p. 836. 



WOLSEY'S RECEPTION. 



507 



sey, 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. 

Thus, after insupportable delays which had fatigued 
the nation, a thunderbolt fell upon England. Court, 
clergy, and people, from whom it was impossible to con* 
ceal 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.* 
The cardinal, all radiant with this trivial success, and de- 
sirous 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, w 
said some. " The king will not receive him," answered 
others. At length, one Sunday morning, it was an- 
nounced that the prelates were at the gates of the man- 
sion. 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, Wol- 
sey 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 
ptole, offered Wolsey the use of his own room, and the 
cardinal followed him, almost sinking beneath the hu- 
miliation he had undergone.f He made ready to appeal 
before the king, and summoning up his courage, pro- 
ceeded to the presence-chamber. 

The lords of the council were standing in a row ac 

• Stale Papers, vol. 1, p. 343. f Cavendish, ppi 287-246 



608 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cording to their rank ; Wolsey, taking off his hat, passed 
along, saluting each of them with affected civility. A 
gTeat number of courtiers arrived, impatient to see how 
Henry would receive his old favorite ; and most of them 
were already exulting in the striking disgrace of which 
they hoped to be witnesses, At last the king was an 
aounced. 

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 tands. 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 favor was about to set for ever. The silence con- 
tinued, 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 show- 
ing 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 undertone, 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 rev- 
erences 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 ter- 
rible 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 
* devout air. " the king would do well to send his bisb» 



ANNE ACCUSES WOLSEY. 



509 



ops 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 honor 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 con- 
versation. 

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 ex- 
treme sensibility, and an ardent imagination, Anne, 
who felt the slightest insult with all the sensibility oi 
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 oi 
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 pres- 
ence-chamber, where Wolsey expected him. 

After a long conversation, carried on in a low tone, 
the king took Wolsey by the hand and led him into his 



510 HI8TOBT OF THE BEFOBMATION. 



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 col- 
lecting from his minister all the information necessary 
to him. But the courtiers imagined he was returning 
into his master's favor ; 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 favor 
is blowing."* 

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. 

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 1o 
* Purnet's Bef. vol. 1, p. $9, 



WOLSEY IN DISGBAOE 



511 



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 grace- 
ful compliment, and prayed him to take a seat. "Mas- 
ter 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 po- 
sition ; and Wolsey sounded Gardiner, just as he him- 
self 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 Bel- 
lay. 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.* 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. 

The next morning Wolsey, impatient to have the in- 
terview 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 after- 
wards 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 Cam 
peggio." Then striking the spurs into his horse, Henry 
galloped off with a friendly salutation. After him came 

0 Du Bell ay to the Grand Master. Le Grand, Preuves, j>. 875 \ 



512 HISTOBT OF THE RBPOBMATION. 



Anne Boleyn, who rode past Wolsey with head erects 
and casting on him a proud look. The court proceeded 
to Hartweil Park, where Anne had determined to keep " 
the king all day. Wolsey was confounded. There waa 
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 after- 
wards at Ham. These recollections were by no means 
agreeable to Wolsey. The next morning the two car- 
dinals separated; Campeggio proceeded to Dover, and 
Wolsey to London. 

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 him- 
self, 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,* 
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.f 

Henry's tranquillity had not been of long duration 
11 Campeggio is the bearer of letters from Wolsey to 
Rome," whispered some of the courtiers ; " who knowp 
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 Cam 
peggio "had large treasure with him of my lord's," Wol 
Bey's, " to be conveyed in great tuns to Rome,"| whither 

• Le Grand, vol. 2, p. 156. Life of Campeggio, by Sigoniu^ 

f Sarcinas excuti jussit. Sanders, p. 51. 

% Cavendish, p. 240. See also Le Grand, 2, p. 26& 



WOLSE* FOEEWARNEB. 



513 



ft 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 there- 
fore sent a messenger after the nuncio, with orders that 
his baggage should be thoroughly searched. 

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 stretch- 
ing out his hands to receive them, proud, like his suc- 
cessors, 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 powers ; he forgets besides, that as bishop of Salis- 
bury, 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 sor- 
rows at the sumptuous table of Cardinal Duprat. 

Wolsey was not so fortunate. He had seen Cam- 
peggio 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 necro- 
mancy had forewarned him that this would be a fatal 
year.* 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."f Other 
voices besides hers made themselves heard : the hatred 

• He had learnt of his necromancy that this would be a jeoj* 
ardous year for him. Tyndale's Works, 1, p. 480. 
f Strype, 1, p. 373. 



614 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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 ;* but Clement's good offices would only ac- 
celerate 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, fol- 
lowed 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."f " 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. 

* Herbert, p. 289. 

t Du Bellay to Montmorency, 12th October. Le Grand, Preuves, 

p. 365. 



THOMAS OBANMSB. 



616 



CHAPTER XII 

A meeting at Waltham — Youth of Thomas Cranmer- Hig early 
education — Studies Scripture for three years — His functions 
as examiner— The supper at Waltham — New view of the di- 
vorce — Fox communicates it to Henry — Cranmer' s vexation — 
Conference with the king — Cranmer at the Boleyns. 

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 at- 
tendants were lodged in the houses of the neighborhood. 
Fox the almoner and Secretary Gardiner were quar- 
tered 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. 

Cranmer was descended from an ancient family, 
which came into England, as is generally believed, with 
the Conqueror. He was born at Aslacton in Notting- 
hamshire on the 2d 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 lit 
tie 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 



516 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



cared for little besides hunting, racing, and military 
sports. At this school the son learned 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 medi- 
tations ; 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 contemplation. 
About 1504 he was sent to Cambridge, where " barba- 
rism still prevailed," says a historian.* His plain, no- 
ble, 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 honors, he married the 
young lady, resigned his fellowship — in conformity with 
the regulations — and took a modest lodging at the Dol- 
phin. He then began to study earnestly the most re- 
markable writings of the times, polishing, as 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.f He 
then began to teach in Buckingham, afterwards Magda- 
lene college, and thus provided for his wants. 

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 

° Faeda barbaries. Melch. Adam. Vitae Theol. 1. 
f Ad eos non aliter quam ad cotem, quotidie priscam deteigebal 
acabritiem. Melch. Adam. Vitae Theol. 1. 



CBANMEE AS EXAMINES. 611 



reflected 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."* And for three years he constantly studied the 
holy books,f without commentary, without human the- 
ology, 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 under- 
stood the completeness of God's design. Then without 
forsaking the Scriptures, he studied all kinds of authors. J 
He was a slow reader, but a close observer ;§ he never 
opened a book without having a pen in his hand.|| 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,^" taking the 
Bible for his standard. 

Honors soon came upon him ; he was made succes- 
sively 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."** "But," replied the monks, 
" they are so difficult." " Explain the obscure passages 
by those which are clear," rejoined the professor, " Scrip- 
ture 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 labor, and one of them, 
Dr. Barrett, blessed God that the examiner had turned 



• Behold the very fountains. Foxe, 8, p. 4. 
f Totum triennium Sacrae Scripturae monumentis perlegendis im 
pendit. M. Adam, p. L 

% Like a merchant greedy of all good things. Foxe, 8, p. 4. 
§ Tardus quidem lector sed vehemens observator. M. Adam, 

P . i. 

|| Sine calamo nunquam ad scriptoris cujusquam librum accessit. 
Ibid. 

Omnes omnium opiniones tacito secum judicio trutinabat 
(bid. Cranmer's Works, pp. 17, 18* 



618 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATIOK. 



him back; "for," said he, "I found the knowledge of 
God in the holy book he compelled me to study." Cran- 
mer toiled at the same work as Latimer, Stafford, and 
Bilney. 

Pox 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 in the right path," 
said Cranmer to his friends ; " you should not cling to 
the decision 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 Oranmer : " 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 ques- 
tion was simply to know what God says in his word. 
u The word of God is above the church," was the princi- 
ple laid down by Cranmer, and in that principle consist- 
ed the whole of the Reformation. The conversation at 
the supper-table of Wakham 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 be 
coming one of the principal instruments of Divine wis 
dom. 

The day after this conversation, Fox and Gardiner 
arrived at Greenwich, and the king summoned them 
into his presence the same evening. "Well, gentle- 
men," he said to them, "our holidays are over; what 



CRANMER SENT FOR BY HENRI. 519 



shall we do now ? If we still have recourse to Rome, 
God knows when we shall see the end of this matter."* 
" 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. " Dr. Cranmer, whom 
we n.et 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 honor of this luminous idea for himself, but Henry 
did not listen to him. " Where is Dr. Cranmer ?" said 
he, much affected.f " Send and fetch him immediately. 
Mother of God 1" — this was his customary oath — " this 
man has the right sow by the ear.J If this had only 
been suggested to me two years ago, what expense and 
trouble I should have been spared." 

Cranmer had gone into Nottinghamshire ; a messen- 
ger followed, and brought him back. " Why have you 
entangled me in this affair?" he said to Fox and Gar- 
diner. " 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 wiil 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. 

Cranmer was then forty years of age, with pleasing 
features, and mild and winning eyes, in which the can- 
dor of his soul seemed to be reflected. Sensible to the 
paiLs 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 publio 
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 

• God knows, and not L Foxe, 8, p. 7. 

f Burnet, vol. 1, p. 60. J Ibid. 



6§0 filStrOfet Of THE HEfOHMATION 



He was rather too fond of relying upon the powet 6! 
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 every thing to escape 
from the consequences of his frankness, he was ready to 
maintain the opinion he had given. 

Henry perceiving Cranmer's timidity, graciously ap- 
proached him. " What is your name ?" said the king, 
endeavoring 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 for- 
tress. Now, sir doctor, I beg you, and as you are my 
subject, I command you to lay aside every other occu- 
pation, and to bring my cause to a conclusion in con- 
formity with the ideas you have put forth. All that 1 
desire to know is, whether my marriage is contrary to 
the laws of God or not. Employ all your skill in investi- 
gating the subject, and thus bring comfort to my con- 
science as well as to the queen's."* 

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 writ- 
ing." And then summoning the earl of Wiltshire to his 
presence, he said to him, " My lord, you will receive Dr. 
Cranmer into your house at Durham Place, and let him 
have all necessary quiet to compose a report for which 



• For the discharging of both our consciences. Foxe, 8, p. & 



OltAttlf&fi A? tfBfc BOL£t»8. 621 



1 have asked him." After this precise command, which 
admitted of no refusal, Henry withdrew. 

In this manner was Oranmer introduced by the king 
to Anne Boleyn's father, and not, as some Romanist 
authors have asserted, by Sir Thomas Boleyn to the 
king.* Wiltshire conducted Cranmer to Durham House— 
aow the Adelphi in the Strand — (aid the pious doctor 
on whom Henry had imposed these quarters soon con- 
tracted a close friendship with Anne and her father, and 
took advantage of it to teach them the value of the di- 
vine word, as the pearl of great price.f 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. 

• Sanders, p. 67 ; Iingard, vol. 6, chap. 3. Compare Foxe, voL 
8, p. 8. 

f Teque nobilis illiixs margarita deaiderio teneri. Erasm. Kpp* 
p. 1764. 



HISTORY OF THE REFORM ATIOK. 



CHAPTER XIII 

Wolaey in the Court of Chancery — Accused by the dukes — KefTseg 
to give up the Great Seal — His despair — He gives up the Seal- 
Order to depart — His inventory — Alarm — The scene of depar- 
ture — Favorable message from the king — Wolsey 's joy — His 
fool — Arrival at Esher. 

While Cranmer was rising, notwithstanding his hu- 
mility, Wolsey was falling in despite of his stratagems. 
The cardinal still governed the kingdom, gave instruc- 
tions 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 ser- 
vices Henry had received from him, pleaded in his favor. 
Wolsey without the seals appeared almost as incon- 
ceivable as the king without his crown. Yet the fall of 
one of the most powerful favorites recorded in history 
was inevitably approaching, and we must now describe 
it. 

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 accus- 
tomed to do. He presided on the bench with an inex- 
pressible 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 be* 
fore — Foxe says on the 1st of October — the dukes of Nor 
folk and Suffolk, with other lords of the privy council, 
had gone down to Windsor, and denounced to the king 
Wblsey's unconstitutional relations with the pope, his 
usurpations, "hia robberies, and the discords eowu by 



THE CARDINAL'S LAST TRITTMPH. 523 



his means between Christian princes."* Such motives 
would not have sufficed, but Henry had stronger. Wol- 
sey 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.f 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. 

While 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 prcemunire. 
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 bave our orders from 
his majesty's mouth," said they. "That may be suf 
ficient 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 sim- 
pie word of any lord, unless you can show me your 
commission." Suffolk broke out into a passion, bu 
Wolsey remained calm, and the two dukes returned U 
Windsor. This was the cardinal's last triumph. 

The rumor of his disgrace created an immense sen- 

• Du Bellay to Montmorency, October 22. Le Grand, Pre uvea, 
p. 877. 

f Ranke, Deutsche Geachichte, 8, p. 140. 



sation at court, in the city, and among the foreign am- 
bassadors. Du Bellay hastened to York Place — White- 
hall — to contemplate this great ruin, and console his 
unhappy friend. He found Wolsey, with dejected coun- 
tenance 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 com- 
passion. " Alas," thought he, " his enemies cannot but 
feel pity for him." At last the unhappy cardinal recov- 
ered 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.* .... I can 
live in a hermitage, provided the king does not hold me 
in disgrace." The ambassador "did all he could to com- 
fort him," when Wolsey, catching at the plank thrown 
out to him, exclaimed, " Would that the king of Prance 
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 ol 
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 in- 
formed of these dispatches, his hopes recovered a little 
But this bright gleam did not last long. 

On Sunday the ltth of October, Norfolk and Suffolk re- 
appeared at Whitehall, accompanied by Fitzwilliam, Tay- 
lor, 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 to 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 

• Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuveo, p. 371. 



WOLSEY'S BIOHES. 



525 



crimson velvet, and ornamented with the arms of Eng- 
land,* 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 king's good pleasure to take my 
house and all it contains, I am content to retire to 
Esher." The dukes left him. 

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 light- 
ning 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 intrusted to your care, in order 
to render me an account." These orders were executed 
immediately. The tables were covered with an im- 
mense quantity of rich stuffs, silks and velvets of all 
colors, 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,f 
from the looms of Damascus, and with tapestry, repre- 
senting scriptural subjects or stories from the old ro- 
mances 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 

* In quadam theca de veluto crimisino. Kymer Act. p. 13&. 

f Baldekinum, pannus omnium ditissimus, cujus utpote stamen 
ex filo auri, subtegmen ex serico texitur, plumario opere intertex 
too. Ducange's Glossary. 



526 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATIOK. 



and precious stones. These articles of luxury were so 
abundant that basketfuls of costly plate, which had 
fallen out of fashion, were stowed away under the 
tables. On ev^ry table was an exact list of the treas- 
ures with which it was loaded, for the most perfect 
order and regularity prevailed in the cardinal's house- 
held. Wolsey cast a glance of hope upon this wealth, 
and ordered his officers to deliver the whole to his maj- 
esty. 

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 com- 
fort 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 car- 
dinal led to the Tower, desired to be present at his hu- 
miliation, and prepared to accompany him. Cries of 
joy hailing his fall were heard from every side ; nor 
were the crudest 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 
bight 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 



A FLASH OP JOY TO WOLSEY. 521 

like a withered leaf carried along the stream. All his 
servants were moved ; even his fool William Patch sob- 
bed like the rest. " Oh wavering and newfangled mul- 
titude," exclaimed Cavendish, his gentleman-usher.* 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. 

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 
ririle, 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. " Who do you think it can be ?" he asked of his 
attendants. "My lord," replied one of them, "I think 
it is Sir Henry Norris." 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 re- 
spectfully, and said, " The feing 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 impor- 
tant 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 amid pro- 
found silence. God's forgiveness had never caused 
Wolsey so much pleasure as Henry's. 

Having finished his prayer, the cardinal put on bis 
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 
* Cavendish, Wolsey, p. 251. 



528 HISTOIU OF THE REFORMATION. 



for your happy tidings ; but I have nothing left except 
tbe 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 Nor- 
ris 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, mount- 
ed on a sorry horse, poor William Patch, who had lost 
all his gayety since his masters 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;* but the inexorable 
Wolsey, who looked upon him merely as a toy, ordered 
six of his tallest yeomen to lay hold of him. They car- 
ried 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 mis- 
fortune. 

At last they reached Esher. What a residence com 
pared with Whitehall I It was little more than four 
bare walls. The most urgent necessaries were procur- 
ed from the neighboring 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 
scat, wa*Jk hurriedly up and down, speak aloud to him 
self, and then falling back in his chair, he would weep 
like a child. This man, who formerly had shaken king- 
doms, 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. 

* Hie poor fool took on, and fired so in such a rage. Cav. , p. 267 . 



THOMAS MOBS AS OHANOHLLOB. 589 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Thomas More elected chancellor — A lay government one of the great 
facts of the Reformation — Wolsey accused of subordinating Eng 
land to the pope — He implores the king's clemency — His con- 
demnation — Cromwell at Esher— His character — He sets out foi 
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 — Resist- 
ance of the House of Commons — Struggles — Henry sanctions the 
three bills— Alarm of the clergy and disturbances. 

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 dis- 
grace. 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 writ- 
er, " 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 honors one of its greatest enemies. Henry 
thought that More, placed between the pape and his sov 
ereign, would decide in favor of the interests of the 
throne, and of the independence of England. His choice 
was made. 

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 honor conferred 
on him was almost unprecedented ; very seldom indeed 



f>80 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



had the seals been intrusted to a mere knight.* 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 Cham 
ber. " 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. w f 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 hud usurped. This result could not 
but be favorable 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. 

More lost no time. Never had lord-chancellor dis- 
played 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-gen- 
eral, " has never acknowledged any superior but God.J 

° It has been often asserted that Sir Thomas More was the first 
layman to whom * he office of chancellor was intrusted ; hut there 
were no less than six between a. d. 1342 and 1410: namely, Sto 
Robert Boucher, knight ; Sir Robert de Thorp, knight ; Sir R. de 1a 
St rope, knight; Sir M de la Pole; R. Seville, Earl of Salisbury; 
and Sir T. Beaufort, knight. 

f Mote's Life, p. 172. 

% The crown of England, free at all times, has been in no earthly 
subjection, but immediately subject to Qod in all things. Herbert* 
p. 251. See also Articles of Impeachment, sec. 1 



WOLSET'S BBAL CBIMB. 



581 



Now, the said Thomas Wolsey, legate a latere, has ob- 
tained 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 prcemunire." 

There can be no doubt that Henry had other reasons 
for Wolsey's disgrace than those pointed out by the at- 
torney-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 petple. 
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 ? Wol- 
sey, 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 
Sanctam* 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 inercv and grace of the 
king,"f 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 Wol- 
sey'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 an- 
swered, " Show his majesty from me that I must desire 

• Since the 13th of November, 1302. Eaynold ad ann. Uterqua 
ergo gladius est potestate ecclesre, spiritualis scilicet et materi&iis. 
t Cavendish, p. 276. 



532 HISTORY OF THE .REFORMATION. 



him to call to his most gracious remembrance that there 
is both a heaven anc' a hell f and when other charges 
besides those of complicity with the papal aggression 
were brought against him, he defended himself cou- 
rageously, as will be afterwards seen. If therefore the 
cardinal did not attempt to justify himself for infring- 
ing the rights of the crown, it was because his con* 
science 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 suffi- 
ciently borne in mind that, since the Great Charter, oppo- 
sition to Romish aggression has always characterized 
the constitution and government of England. Wolsey 
perfectly recollected this ; and this explanation is more 
honorable to him than that which ascribes his silence to 
weakness or to cunning. 

The cardinal was pronounced guilty, and the court 
passed judgment, that by the statute of praemunire his 
property was forfeited, and that he might be taken be- 
fore 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 condemna- 
tion of his predecessor, whose friend he had been, an- 
other 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. 

On the 1st uf November, two days after WoJsry's 
condemnation, one of his officers, with a prayer-book m 
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 raised his head, and the gentleman-usher, 
seeing that his eyes were filled with tears, asked him, 



CBOMWELL'S RESOLUTION. 538 



"Master Cromwell, is my lord in any danger ?" "I 
think not," replied Cromwell, " but it is hard to lose in 
a moment the labor of a life." In his master's fall Crom- 
well foreboded his own. Cavendish endeavored to con* 
sole him. " God willing, this is my resolution," replred 
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."* At this moment Cavendish was 
summoned, and he entered the cardinal's chamber. 

Cromwell, devoured by ambition, had clung to Wol- 
sey'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. Crom- 
well 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 dis- 
tinguished, was not at all times without reproach : suc- 
cess seems to have been his first thought. 

After dinner Cromwell followed Wolsey into his pri- 
vate room : "My lord, permit me to go to London ; I will 
endeavor to save you." A gleam passed over the car- 
dinaPs saddened features. " Leave the room," he said 
to his attendants. He then had a long private conver- 
sation with Cromwell,f 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 secu- 
larization of the convents, and Henry could not endure 
him. But Cromwell knew that fortune favors 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." 

• Carendiflh, p. 280. 

t tang communication with my lord in secret. Ibid. p. 270. 



534 HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATXON. 



Sir Christopher Hales, a zealous Roman-catholic, en* 
tertained a sincere friendship for him ; and to this friend 
Cromwell applied. Hales proceeded immediately to the 
palace, November 2d, where he found a numerous com* 
pany talking about the cardinal's ruin. " There was one 
of his officers," said Hales, " who would serve your maj* 
98ty well." "Who is he?" asked Henry " Cromwell. * 
u Do not speak to me of that man, I hate him," replied 
the king angrily ;* 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, f " 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. 

The interview took place the same day at the ap- 
pointed 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.^ This king- 
dom 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 

• The king began to detest the mention of him. Foxe, 6, p 
866. 

f In a vehement boldness. Ibid. p. 367. 

X Ibid. See also Apol. Begin. Poli ad Car. 1, pp. 120, 121. 



OBOMWELL'S PROPOSAL TO THE KIKG. 535 



princes have thrown off the yoke of Rome? Do like- 
wise ; 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 in- 
crease of glory to your name, and of prosperity to your 
people." 

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 consider- 
ations 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 Eng- 
land, the place of princes submissive to the Roman pon- 
tiffs. 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 humilia- 
tion, 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 ; aston- 
ished 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 



586 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



what you assert?" " Certainly," replied this able poli- 
tician ; " 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 ne- 
cessity of bringing down that foreign authority which 
dared dispute the power with him, even in his own king- 
dom. 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. Eng- 
land, we may say, was now virtually emancipated from 
the papacy. 

Cromwell had laid the first foundations of his great- 
ness. He had remarked the path his master had fol- 
lowed, 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. Possess- 
ing 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, November 3d, but to Cromwell nothing 
was impossible. The son of his fiiend Sir Thomas 
Rush had been returned to parliament ; but the young 
member resigned his seat, and Cromwell was elected in 
his place. 

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 in- 
fluence 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 draw- 
ing nearer to his people. Every thing betokened that 
a good feeling would prevail between the parliament 
and the crown, and that " the priests would have a ter- 
rible fright."* 

While Henry was preparing to attack the Roman 
• Du ^llay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuveg, pp. 378, 880. 



THE OLEBGY IN OONSTEBNATION. 581 



church in the papal supremacy, the Commons were get- 
ting 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."* 
But it was not from acts of parliament that the Refor- 
mation 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 their province, and the parliament of 1529 
may be regarded, Lord Herbert of Cherbury observes, 
as the first Protestant parliament of England.f " The 
bishops require excessive fines for the probates of wills," 
said Tyndale's old friend Sir Henry Guilford. " As testa- 
mentary 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."J " Priests," said another, 
"have farms, tanneries, and warehouses, all over the 
country. In short, the clerks take every thing from their 
flocks, and not only give them nothing, but even deny 
them the word of God." 

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 convo- 
cation 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 su&- 
|*ected places, be present at disreputable snows, § go 

• Works, 1, p. 481. 

f It was the first step, a great and bold sally towards that ref- 
ormation. Herbert, p. 320. 

J Rather than give to them the silly cow, if he had but only 
one. Foxe, 4, p. 611. 

§ Quod non exerceant tabernas, nec ludant taxing W aliis India 



638 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION. 



about with sporting dogs, or with hawks, falcons, or 
other birds of prey, on their fists ;* or finally, hold sns* 
picious intercourse with women.f Penalties were de- 
nounced against these various disorders: they were 
doubled in case of adultery ; and still further increased 
in tl<e case of more abominable impurities.J Such were 
the laws rendered necessary by the manners of the 
clergy. 

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 destruc- 
tion of the church is aimed at, w exclaimed Bishop Fisher, 
when these bills were carried to the Lords, " and if the 
church falls, the glory of the kingdom will perish. Lu- 
theranism is making great progress among 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 de- 
mand an apology for such offensive language." Fisher 
pretended that he only meant to speak of the Bohemi- 
ans; 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 sub- 
jects. John Petit, one of the members for the city, bold- 

prohibits ; quod non pernoctent in locis suspectis ; quod non intei 
sil t iuhonestis spectaculis, etc. Gonvocatio pralatorum. Wilkins, 
Concilia, 3, p. 717. 

° Canes venaticos loris ducere ac accipitres manibus. Ibid, p 
728. 

f Mulierum colloquia suspecta nullatenus habeant. Ibid, p 
7*2. 

t Et in eastern earn is spurcitiift poena crescat. Ibid. p. 721. 



DI8TUBBANCES BY THE PRIESTS, 589 



ly opposed this demand. " I do not know other persons' 
affairs," he said, " and I cannot give what does not be- 
long 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 Henr«y gave his con- 
sent to the bills of the Commons. Every dispensation 
coming from Eome which might be contrary to the 
statutes, was strictly forbidden. The bishops exclaimed 
that the Commons were becoming schismatical : disturb- 
ances were excited by certain priests ; but the clerical 
agitators were punished, and the people, when they 
heard of it, were deHghted beyond measure. 



i 



640 HiaJOBY OJf THE BEFORMATION. 



CHAPTER XV, 

the labt hour — More' 8 fanaticism — Debates in Convocation — Royal 
proclamation — The bishop of Norwich — Sentences condemned-* 
Latimer's opposition — The New Testament burnt — The persecu- 
tion begins — Hitton — Bayfield — Tonstall and Packington — Bay- 
field arrested — The rector Patmore — Lollard's 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 recognize the 
authority of Christ : obedience to the Scriptures is, how- 
ever, the very soul of the Reformation. 

The king's contest with Rome had filled the friends of 
Scripture with hope. The artisans and tradesmen, par- 
ticularly those who lived near the sea, were almost 
wholly won over to the gospel. "The king >s 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 numer- 
ous than those of a contrary opinion We are ready, 
if needs be, to die in the struggle."* This was indeed 
to be the fate of many. 

Language such as this aroused the clergy. " The last 
hour has come," sard Stokesley, who had been raised to 
the see of London after TonstalPs translation to Dur- 
ham ; 11 if we would not have Luther's heresy pervade 
the whole of England, we must hasten to ihrow 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 bish- 
ops. He was soon found. 

• The bishop of Norwich to Primate Warham, 14th May, l&HX 
Cotton MSS. Cleopatra, E. 6, folio 360 ; Bible Annals, I, p. 266. 



THE BISHOPS* DEMAND. 



541 



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 the heretics was just and necessary.* He has 
even been reproached with binding evangelical Chris- 
tians to a tree in his garden, which he called " the treo 
of truth," and of having flogged them with his own 
hand.f 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 ; J 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. 

The bishops led the attack. "We must clear the 
Lord's field of the thorns which choke it," said the arch- 
bishop of Canterbury to Convocation on the 29th of No- 
vember, 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 Tyn- 
dale, Luther, Melancthon, Zwingle, (Ecolampadius, Pome- 
ranus, Brentius, Bucer, Jonas, Francis Lambert, Fryth, 
and Fish.§ The Bible in particular was set down. " It is 
impossible to translate the Scripture into English," said 
one of the prelates. || " 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 
ohould preach, or write any book, or keep any school 

• More' 8 Works : A Dialogue concerning Heresies, p. 274. 
| Strype's Mem. vol. 1, p. 815; Foxe, 4, p. 698. 
} Apology, ch. 36, p. 901, 902. 

§ See the catalogue in Wilkins' Concilia, pp. 713 to 720. Wil 
kins is of opinion, p. 717 note, that this document belongs tc the 
year 1629. There are, however, some portions of these statute 
which have evident reference to the year following. 

J Tyndale's Works, vol. I, p. 1, 



642 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATIO*. 



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 ppoceed 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."* Sncb 
was the crud proclamation of Henry VIII., 41 the father 
of the English Reformation." 

The clergy were mot 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 savoreth 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, War- 
ham, 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 cer- 
tain other books in which the following doctrines were 
taught : " That Christ has shed his blood for our in- 
iquities, 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. Laboring in good works to 
come to heaven, thou dost shame Christ's blood."f 

While 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."J The church, in 
Latimer's opinion, presumed to set up its own voice in 

• Foxe, 4, pp. 677, 678. f Wilkin*, Concilia, 8, pp. 72&-78L 
t Latimer'e Remains, p. 297 



THE NEW TESTAMENTS BUBNT. 643 



tLe place of Christ's, and the Reformation did the con- 
trary ; this was his abridgmert of the controversy. Be- 
ing: called upon to preach during Christmas-tide, he had 
censured his hearers because they celebrated that festi- 
val by playing at cards, like mere worldlings, and then 
proceeded to lay before their eyes Christ's cards, that ip 
to say, his laws.* Being placed on the Cambridge com- 
mission to examine into the question of the king's mar- 
riage, 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. 

Henry felt disposed at first to yield something to 
Latimer. " Many of my subjects," said he to the prel- 
ates 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 be- 
gan between the two parties ;f and Latimer concluded 
by asking that " the Bible should be permitted to circu- 
late freely in English."! 41 But the most part overcame 
the better," he tells us.§ Henry declared that the teach- 
ing 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." 44 Shun 
these books," cried the priests from the pulpit, 44 detest 
them, keep them not in your hands, deliver them up to 
your superiors. || 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 spec- 
tators retired shaking the head, and saying, 44 The teach- 
ing of the priests and of the Scriptures must be in con- 
tradiction to each other, since the priests destroy them." 
Latimer did more : 44 You have promised us the word of 

• Sermons, p. S. f Wilkins, Concilia, 8, p. 78& 

% Latimer's Remains, p. 805. § IbuL 
|| Wilkins, Concilia, 3, p. 736 



644 HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



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/'* 
Latimer well knew that by such language he hazarded 
his life ; but that he was ready to sacrifice, as he tells 
us himself, f 

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 dili- 
gent execution of the king's proclamation ; whereupon 
ensued a grievous persecution and slaughter of the faith- 
ful.";); 

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 crudest tor- 
tures, to make him deny his faith. § But the martyr re- 
peated with holy enthusiasm, "Salvation cometh by 
faith and not by works, and Christ giveth it to whom- 
soever he willeth."|| On the 20th of February, 1530, he 
was tied to the stake and there burned to death.^f 

Scarcely were Hitton's sufferings ended for bringing 
the Scriptures into England, when a vessel laden with 
New Testaments arrived at Colchester. The indefati- 
gable 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, undis- 
mayed, again visited the Low Countries, and soon reap 

* Latimer' 8 Remains, p. 308. 

f I had rather suffer extreme punishment. Ibid. p. 298. 
t Foxe, vol. 4, p. 679. 

§ Dieted and tormented him secretly. Tyndale's Works, vol. 
L, p. 485. 

|| For the constant and manifest testimony of Jesus Christ and ol 
his free grace and salvation. Foxe, vol. 4, p. 619. 

The bishops murdered hjni most cruelly. Tyndala, voL I, pk 



BAYFIELD IK PEISON WITH PATMOBfi. 545 



peared, 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," type 
and dies. "My lord, you had better buy the stamps too, 
and so you shall be sure."* 

Instead of the stamps, the priests sought after Bay- 
field. 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."f 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 Lollards' tower.J 

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."§ 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 abun- 
dance as to bring down the prices. j| " 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."^[ 

His curate Simon Smith unwilling to imitate the 
disorderly lives of the priests, and finding Joan Ben 
nore, the rector's servant, to be a discreet and pious per- 
son, he desired to marry her. " God," said Patmore, 

• Foxe, vol. 4, p. 670. f Ibid. p. 699. 

% Ibid p. 681. § Ibid. vol. 6, p. % 

I| Ibid. vol. 4, p. 681. % Ibid. 

35 



546 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



"has declared marriage lawful for all men; and accord* 
ingly it is permitted to the priests in foreign parts."* 
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. 

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 ia his 
prison, and endeavored by their threats to make him 
deny his faith. 

It was during these circumstances that Bayfield was 
thrust into the tower. By his Christian words he re- 
vived Patmore's languishing faith,f and the latter com- 
plained to the king that the bishop of London prevented 
his feeding the flock which God had committed to his 
charge. Stokesley comprehending whence Patmore de- 
rived his new courage, J removed Bayfield from the Lol- 
lards' tower, and shut him up in the coal-house, where 
he was fastened upright to the wall by the neck, mid- 
dle, and legs.§ 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 hear- 
ing the sound of human voice. We shall see him here- 
after issuing from this horrible prison to die on the 
scaffold. 

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 ;|| and John Tyndale 
had sent five marks to his brother William, and received 

• Yet it was in other countries beyond the sea. Foxe, vol. 4, 
p. 681. 

f Confirmed by him in the doctrine. Ibid. vol. 4, p. 681. 
% Confirmed him in the doctrine. Ibid. p. 68. 
§ Ibid. U Ibid. 5, p. 34. 



/ 



SUFFERINGS OF EDWABD FREESE. 647 

letters from him. Moreover the two friends, who were 
both tradesmen, had distributed a great number of Tes- 
taments and other works. But their faith was not deeply 
rooted, and it was more out of sympathy for their broth- 
ers that they had believed; accordingly Stokesley so 
completely entangled them, that they confessed their 
41 crime." More, delighted at the opportunity which of 
fered 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 horse- 
back with their faces towards the taiJ, 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. 

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 Reforma- 
tion.* A painter named Edward Freese, a young man 
of ready wit, having been engaged to paint some hang- 
ings in a house, wrote on the borders certain sentences 
of the Scriptures. For this he was seized and taken to 
the bishop of London's palace at Fulharn, and there im- 
prisoned, where his chief nourishment was bread mad© 
out of sawdust, f His poor wife, who was pregnant, 
went down to Fulham to see her husband ; bait the bish- 
op'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 alter. The un- 
happy Freese was removed to the Lollaids' 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 
oentences on the wall ; upon this he was manacled, but 

• His name was Robert Lambe. Foxe, 5, p. 34. 
f Fed with fine manchet made of sawdust, or at least a great 
part thereof. Ibid. 4, p. 696. 



648 



HISTOBY OF THE REFORMATION. 



nis wrists were so severely pinched that the flesh grevo 
up higher than the irons. His intellect became dis 
turbed ; 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 an 
swer, "My Lord is a good man." They could get noth- 
ing 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 en- 
tirely recovered his reason.* Henry VIII. and his priests 
inflicted punishments still more cruel even than the stake. 

Terror began to spread far and wide. The most 
active evangelists had been compelled to flee to a for- 
eign land some of the most godly were in prison ; and 
among those in high station there were many, and per- 
haps 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 ail his doctors, " as hot as coals," says 
the chronicler, f 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 neighbor's devotion, fox 

• Fqcm, 4, p. 696. f Ihid. fc, p. 



MB tTNESOWK aiBETIO CURSED, 549 



hd did not take his eyes off his book, quite pot them 
out ; they did not perceive that he was reading the New 
Testament in Latin. 

This man, Thomas Bennet, was indeed the offender. 
Being converted at Cambridge by the preaching of Bil- 
ney, whose friend he was, he had gone to Torrington f )r 
fear of the persecution, and thence to Exeter, and aftei 
marrying to avoid unchastity, as he says,* he became 
school master. 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 con- 
science being awakened, he resolved to fasten by night 
to the cathedral gates certain evangelical placards. 
"Everybody will read the writing," he thought, and 
" nobody will know the writer." He did as he had pro- 
posed. 

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 here- 
tic 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, 0 Israel," Josh. 
1 : 13, 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 f extinguishing the second can- 
dle. After this, one of the priests went up to the cross 
and struck it, when the noise it made in falling reScho* 

° Utne Bcortator aut immundus essem, uxorem duxi. Fox% 
p. 19. 



550 HISTORY OE THE REFORMATION. 



ing 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 neighbors; "here is the heretic, here is the 
heretic, hold him fast." This created great confusion 
^mong the crowd, some shouting, some clapping their 
hands, others running to and fro; but, owing to the 
tumult, Bennet succeeded in making his escape. 

The excommunication did but increase his desire to 
attack the Romish superstitions ; and accordingly, be- 
fore 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 one hand, and 
with the placards in the other, he went to the mayor of 
the city. Bennetts servant was recognized ; his master 
was immediately arrested, and put in the stocks, " with 
as much favor as a dog would find," says Foxe. 

Exeter seemed determined to make itself the cham- 
pion 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 
gccn discovered that theologians can do nothing against 
the word of the Lord "He only is my way," replied 



MARTYBDOM OP BENNET. 



551 



Bonnet, 14 who saith, I am the way, the truth, and the life. 
In his way will I walk ; his truth will I embrace ; his 
everlastiug 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 Liverydole, 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 sheriffs 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" 44 I know no other advocate but 
Jesus Christ," replied Bennet. Barnehouse was so en- 
raged 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." 44 Alas," replied Bennet pa- 
tiently, "trouble me not;" and then holding up his 
hands, he prayed, " Father, forgive them." The exe- 
cutioners 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. Ben- 
net, lifting up his eyes to heaven, exclaimed, 44 Lord, re- 
ceive my spirit." Thus died, in the sixteenth century, the 
disciples of the Reformation sacrificed by Henry VIII. 

The priests, thanks to the king's sword, began to 
count on victory ; yet schoolmasters, musicians, trades* 
men, 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 lieu- 
tenant of the Tower, searched many of the suspected 
houses.* Few citizens were more esteemed in London 
<* Strype, 1, p. 312. 



652 HISTOB* OF THE REFOBMATIOH. 



than John Petit, the same wJio, 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 po- 
litical 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,* 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 gos- 
pel in his own country and beyond the seas ; and when- 
ever he noted down these generous aids in his books, he 
wrote merely the words, "Lent unto Christ."f He more- 
over forbade his testamentary executors to call in these 
debts. 

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. Hia 
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 ac- 
companied 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 Bpite of the tears of his wife and daughters this in- 
dependent member of Parliament was conducted to the 
• Strype, 1, p. 812. f Strype, 1, p. 314. 



THOMAS BILNEY f 1N&S HBAOB* 658 



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 jailers refused 
her every thing ; and it was only when Petit fell danger- 
ously ill that the latter favor was granted him. This 
took place in 1530, sentence was passed in 1531 ;* we 
shall see Petit again in his prison. He left it indeed, 
but only to sink under the cruel treatment he had there 
experienced. 

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.f 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. J Fear made him trem- 
ble 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, 

• Strype, 1, p. 312. t Ibid. p. 313. 

% He thought that all the while the Scriptures were against him 
Latimer' 8 Sermons, p. 62. 

Wat. <*R*t. VoL Y. 



664 



HISTORY OP THE REFORMATIO!!, 



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, 
u You shall see me no more. ... Do not stay me ; my 
decision is formed, and I shall carry it out. My face ie 
Bet to go to Jerusalem."* 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. Hav- 
ing 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 pro- 
ceeded 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 sol- 
emn 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 testi 
mony rendered by them to the perfect grace of Christ 

• Foxe, 4, p. 642. See Lake 9 : 61. 



/ 



WOLSBY'S TERROR AT ESHEB. 555 



CHAPTER XVI. 

#olfley ; s terror — Impeachment by the peers — Cromwell saves him— 
The cardinal's illness — Ambition returns to him — His practices 
in Yorkshire — He is arrested in Northumberland — His depart- 
ure — Arrival of the constable of the Tower — Wolsey at Leicester 
Abbey — Persecuting language — He dies — Three movements: 
Supremacy, Scripture, and Faith. 

While many pious Christians were languishing in 
the prisons of England, the great antagonist of the Ref- 
ormation was disappearing from the stage of this world. 
We must return to Wolsey, who was still detained at 
Esher.* 

The cardinal, fallen from the summit of honors, was 
seized with those panic terrors usually felt after their 
disgrace by those who have made a whole nation trem- 
ble, and he fancied he saw 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 
favor."f 

In consequence of this, Cromwell hastened down to 
Esher two or three days after taking his seat in Parlia- 
ment, and Wolsey, all trembling, recounted his fears to 
him. " Norfolk, Suffolk, and Lady Anne perhaps, desire 
tny death J Did not Thomas a Becket, an archbishop 

• Bumet 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, 1, pp. 347 to 354. 

f State Papers, vol. 1, p. 351, mutilated by fire. 

J Timebat sibi damnum et periculum de corpore suo per quoe- 
dam nuos lemulos. Eymer Fcedera, p. 139. 



666 HXSTOBt Of THE BEFOBMATIOff. 



like me, stain the altar with his blood T } Cromwell re- 
assured him, and moved by the old man's fears, asked 
and obtained of Henry an order of protection. 

Wolsey's enemies most certainly desired his death ; 
but it was from the justice of the three estates, and net 
by the assaedia'a dagger, that they sought it. The 
House of Peers authorized Sir Thomas More, tue dukes 
of Norfolk and Suffolk, and fourteen other lords, to im- 
peach the cardinal-legate of high treason. They forgot 
nothing : that haughty formula, Ego et rex mens, I and 
my king, which Wolsey had often employed; his in- 
fringement of the laws of the kingdom ; his monopoliz- 
ing 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 car- 
dinal 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.* 
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. 

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 car- 
dinal : this was Cromwell. The members asked of each 
other who the unknown man was ; he soon made him- 
self known. His knowledge of facts, his familiarity with 
the laws, the force of his eloquence, and the moderation 
of his language, surprised the house. Wc Isey's adver- 
saries had hardly aimed a blow, before the defender ha<J 
already parried it. If any charge was brought forward 
to which he could not reply, he proposed an adjourn- 
ment until the next day, departed for Esher at the end 
• Article 6, Herbert, p. 296. 



WOLSEY'S AMBITION AND HOPE. 55? 



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 Wolscy's defender took his 
station among the statesmen of England. This victory, 
one of the greatest triumphs of parliamentary eloquence 
at that peiiod, satisfied both the ambition and gratitude 
of Cromwell. He was now firmly fixed in the king's 
favor, esteemed by the Commons, and admired by the 
people; circumstances which furnished him with the 
means of bringing to a favorable conclusion th$ emanci- 
pation of the church of England. 

The ministry, composed of Wolsey's enemies, was an- 
noyed 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,* and a fever 
attacked him at Christmas. " The cardinal will be dead 
in four days," said his physician to Henry, "if he re- 
ceives no comfort shortly from you and Lady Anne." 
"I would not lose him for twenty thousand pounds," ex- 
claimed the king. He desired to preserve Wolsey in 
case his old minister's consummate ability shemld be- 
come 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 pres- 
ents on his bed, and as he gazed on them he felt bis 
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. 

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 igno- 
rance of the priests, the superstition of the people, the 

• Cum prostratione appetitus et continue ingomnio. Wolsey to 
Gardiner. Cavendish, Appendix, p. 474. 



553 



HISTOBY OF THE BEFOBMATIOS. 



discontent of the great, all would be of service to him 5 
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 na- 
tion — such at least was his opinion — aided vithout 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, Wol- 
sey prayed for an increase to his archiepiscopal reve- 
nues, which amounted, however, to four thousand pounds 
sterling.* Henry granted him a thousand marks, and 
the cardinal, shortly before Easter, 1530, departed with 
a train of one hundred and sixty persons. He thought 
it was the beginning of his triumph. 

Wolsey took up his abode at Cawood Castle, York- 
shire, 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 pat- 
tern of affability. He kept an open table, distributed 
bounteously alms at his gate, said mass in the village 
churches, went and dined with the neighboring gentry, 
gave splendid entertainments, and wrote to several 
princes imploring their help. We are assured that he 
even requested the pope to excommunicate Henry VHI.f 
All being thus prepared, he thought he might make his 
solemn entry into York, preparatory to his enthroniza- 
tion, which was fixed for Monday, the 5th of November. 

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 f the king even added where 
and how.% Wolsey's destruction was resolved upon. 

The morning after All Saints' day, Friday, November 

• State Papers, vol. 1, p. 364. t Hall » P- 773. 

% Cofti mi disse el Be, che contra de S. M. el machinava uel regnc 
• food, et m'a detto dove e come. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 529. 



WCLSET ARBESTED. 



W9 



2d, the earl of Northumberland, attended by a numerous 
escort, arrived at Oawood, where the cardinal was still 
residing. Be 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, tooh 
him into his bed-chamber, under the pretence of chang- 
ing his travelling dress.* They both remained some 
time standing at a window without uttering a word; 
the earl looked confused and agitated, while Wolsey 
endeavored 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, 
14 My lord, I arrest you for high treason." The cardinal 
remained speechless, as if stunned. He was kept a 
prisoner in his room. 

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. 

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 refe'cho 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, ex- 
claiming, " 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, turn* 
ing pale, " Kingston 1" and then slapping his hand on 
his thigh, he heaved a deep sigh. This news had crushed 

• And there you may shift your apparel. Cavendish, p. $47. 



560 HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 



bis mind. One day a fortune-teller, whom be 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 
undei stood the prophecy. Kingston, constable of the 
Towor, was about to cause his death. They left Shef- 
field 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 forebod- 
ings, 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, Wol- 
sey 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 f and 
then he added with downcast head, " This is my just re- 
ward." 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 conj ure 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, Wol- 
sey described the misfortunes which the Hussites had f 
in his opinion, brought upon Bohemia ; and then, com- 
ing 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 YIII.. 
unfaithful to the pope, should hold out his band to the 
Reformers. " Master Kingston," said he in conclusion, 



DEATH OF THE CARDINAL. 561 



M the king should know that if he tolerates heresy, God 
will take away his power, and we shall then have mis 
chief upon mischief ... barrenness, scarcity, and disor 
der, to the utter destruction of this realm." 

Wolsey was exhausted by the effort. After a ma 
mentary silence, he resumed with a dying voice, " Mas 
ter Kingston, farewell. My time draweth on fast. For 
get 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 pleas- 
ures 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 6acerdotai 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 brin^ 
it down; and to take his seat on the pontifical throne 
with more than the authority of a Hilde brand. Wolsey, 
as pope, would have been the man of his age ; and in 
the political world he would have done for the Romait 
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 



562 HISTORY OP THE REFORMATION, 



ship, left to itself, was about to founder. And yet, even 
in death, he did not lose his courage. The last throba 
of his heart had called for victims ; the last words from 
bis failing lips, the last message to his master, his last 
testament had been — persecution. This testament was 
to be only too faithfully executed. 

The epoch of the fall and death of Cardinal Wolsey, 
which is the point at which we halt, was not only im- 
portant, because it ended the life of a man who had pre- 
sided over the destinies of England, and had endeavored 
to grasp the sceptre of the world ; but it is of especial 
consequence, because then three movements were ac- 
complished from which the great transformation of the 
sixt^nth century was to proceed. Each of these move- 
ments 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 ex- 
ercised 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 this 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 seat- 
ing 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 abol- 
ished, that of the word of God ought alone to be substi- 
tuted. 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 reestablishing the authority of holy Scrip- 
ture. Wolsey did not fail alone, nor did Cranmer rise 
alone ; each of these two men carried with him the sys- 
tems he represented. The fabric of -Roman traditions 



THE TRUE FATHER OF T?[E CHURCH. 563 

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 Eeformation 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 suf- 
fering.* 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' towers 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 inter- 
cession 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 Chris- 
tian 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. 

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 falselj 
asserted ; he was its executioner. 

The church of England was foredoomed to be, in its 
renovation, a church of martyrs ; and the true fathei of 
this church is our Father which is in heaven. 

• 1 Peter 4 : 17. Ploramque ecclt&iii ohC ccetus exiguiu suatinexw 
Tariaa et ingentes serumnas. Melaacthon, iota. 



p 



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V 



