THE SIX ARTICLES.
(1538-1540.)
While the Anglo-Catholic party were recovering their former influence
over Henry's mind, some members of the Roman Catholic party were
laboring to re-establish the influence of the pope. They supposed that
they had found a clue by means of which the king might be brought back
to the obedience of Rome. Henry who, while busy in preparing fires for
the martyrs, did not forget the marriage altar, was very desirous of
obtaining the hand of Christina, duchess of Milan. Now, it was this
princess, a niece of Charles V., of whom it was thought possible to
make use for gaining over the king to the pope. She was now at the
court of Brussels, with her aunt Queen Mary; and it is related that to
the first offer of Henry VIII. she had replied with a smile,--'I have
but one head; if I had two, one of them should be at the service of
his majesty.' If she did not say this, as some friends of Henry VIII.
have maintained, something like it was doubtless said by one of the
courtiers. However this may be, the king did not meet with a refusal.
Francis I., alarmed at the prospect of an alliance between Henry VIII.
and Charles V., sent word to Henry that the emperor was deceiving
him. The king did not believe it. The queen regent of the Netherlands
endeavored to bring about this union; Spanish commissioners arrived
to conduct the negotiation, and Hutton de Wriothesley, the English
envoy at Brussels, devoted himself zealously to the business. One of
the principal officers of the court, taking supper with the latter,
in June, 1538, inquired of him for news about the negotiation. Hutton
expressed his surprise 'that the emperor had been so slack therein.'
His companion remarked that the only difficulty in the matter was that
the king his (Hutton's) master had 'married the lady Katherine, to
whom the duchess is near kinswoman,' so that the marriage could not be
solemnized without a dispensation from the pope.[277]
[Sidenote: MARRIAGE NEGOTIATIONS.]
The emperor spoke more clearly still. Wyatt was instructed to tell
the king that the hand of the duchess of Milan would be given to him,
with a dowry of one hundred thousand crowns, and an annuity of fifteen
thousand, secured on the duchy; and that for the gift of this beautiful
and accomplished young widow all they required of him was that _he
should be reconciled with the bishop of Rome_.[278] This was fixing a
high price on the hand of Christina. The princess, considering perhaps
that it was a glorious task to bring back Henry VIII. to the bosom
of the papacy, declared her readiness to obey the emperor. The pope,
on his part, was willing to grant the necessary dispensation; but
the king must first make his submission. For a prince of such fiery
passions this was a great temptation. The chancellor Wriothesley, who
was negotiating the affair, was himself undecided about it. At one time
he eagerly advocated it, and at another time he wrote (January 21,
1539): 'If this marriage may not be had with such honor and friendship
as is requisite, that his Grace may also fix his most noble stomach in
some other place'.[279] The treaty was finally broken off, the thread
snapped, to the great regret of the Roman party. One circumstance might
influence the king's decision. Before the negotiations had been closed,
in December, 1538, the pope published the bull of 1535, in which he
excommunicated Henry VIII. Had the pontiff no hope of good from the
matrimonial intrigue, or did he intend to catch the king by fear?
Henry understood that it was not enough to oppose the king of England
to the pope. The Word of God was for him the rival of Rome. During
these years, 1538 and 1539, in which so many measures were taken
against the evangelical doctrine and its teachers, the Bible, strange
to say, was printed and circulated. This publication has one singular
characteristic; it was made by the intervention of Henry VIII.
and Francis I., the two greatest enemies of the faith of the Holy
Scriptures among all the sovereigns of the world.
The emperor and the king of France occasionally coquetted with the
king of England, whom each of them was anxious to win over to his
own side. Francis, knowing how sensitive Henry was on the subject of
marriage, offered him his son Henry of Orleans for the princess Mary.
Cromwell, who was now giving way to the Anglo-Catholic party on many
points essential to reform, was all the more desirous of holding by
those which his master would really permit. Amongst these was the
translation of the Bible. He saw in the offer made by Francis I. an
opening of which he might avail himself. An edition of the Bible,
extending to 2,500 copies, published the year before by the eminent
printer Richard Grafton in conjunction with Whitchurch, was now
exhausted. Cromwell determined to issue a new one; and as printing was
better executed at Paris than in London, the French paper also being
superior, he begged the king to request permission of Francis I. to
have the edition printed at Paris. Francis addressed a royal letter
to his beloved Grafton and Whitchurch, saying that having received
credible testimonies to the effect that his very dear brother, the king
of the English, whose subjects they were, had granted full and lawful
liberty to print, both in Latin and in English, the Holy Bible, and of
importing it into his kingdom, he gave them himself his authorization
so to do.[280] Francis comforted himself with the thought that his own
subjects spoke neither English nor Latin; and, besides, this book so
much dreaded would be immediately exported from France.
[Sidenote: THE BIBLE PRINTED AT PARIS.]
Grafton and the pious and learned Coverdale arrived at Paris, at
the end of spring, 1538, to undertake this new edition of Tyndale's
translation. They lodged in the house of the printer Francis Regnault,
who had for some time printed missals for England. As the sale of these
had very much fallen off, Regnault changed his course, and determined
to print the Bible. The two Englishmen selected a fine type and the
best paper to be had in France. But these were expensive, and as early
as June 23 they were obliged to apply to Cromwell to furnish them with
the means for carrying on _his_ edition of the Bible.[281] They were
moreover beset with other difficulties. They could not make their
appearance out of doors in Paris without being exposed to threats; and
they were in daily expectation that their work would be interrupted.
Frances I., their reputed protector, was gone to Nice. By December 13,
after six months' labor, their fears had become so serious that when
Bonner, who had succeeded Gardiner as English ambassador in France, was
setting out from Paris on his way to London, they begged him to take
with him the portion already printed and deliver it to Cromwell. The
hypocritical Bonner, not satisfied with all the benefices he now held,
was grasping at the bishopric of Hereford, which he called a _great
good fortune_, and which he succeeded in getting. He was at this time
bent on currying favor with Cromwell, on whose influence the election
depended, and therefore, hiding his face under a gracious mask, which
he was ere long impudently to throw off, he had most eagerly complied
with the request.[282]
Four days later, December 17, the officers of the Inquisition entered
the printing-office and presented a document signed by Le Tellier,
summoning Regnault and all whom it concerned to appear and make answer
touching the printing of the Bible. He was at the same time enjoined to
suspend the work, and forbidden to take away what was already printed.
Are we to suppose that the Inquisition did not trouble itself about the
royal letters of Francis I., or that the prince had changed his mind?
Either of these suppositions might be entertained. In consequence of
the dispatch of the packet to London, there were but a few sheets to
be seized, and these were condemned to be burnt in the Place Maubert.
But the officer was even more greedy of gain than fanatical; and gold
being offered him by the Englishmen for recovery of their property,
almost all the sheets were restored to them. His compliance is perhaps
partly to be explained by the consideration that this was not a common
case. The proprietors of the sheets seized were the Lord Cromwell,
first secretary of state, and the king of England. The matter did not
rest here; the bold Cromwell was not to be baffled. Agents sent by
him to Paris got possession of the presses, the types, and even the
_printers_, and took the whole away with them to London. In two months
from the time of their arrival the printing was completed. On the
last page appeared the statement: _The whole Bible finished in 1539_;
and the grateful editors added, _A domino factum est istud_.[283]
The violent proceeding of the Inquisition turned to a great gain
for England. Many French printers and a large stock of type had been
imported; and henceforward many and more beautiful editions of the
Bible were printed in England. 'The wicked diggeth a pit and falleth
into it.'
[Sidenote: ATTEMPTED COMPROMISE.]
Two parties therefore existed in England, and these frequently
concerned themselves more with the points on which they differed than
with the great facts of their religion. In one pulpit a preacher would
call for reformation of the abuses of Rome; in a neighboring church,
another preacher would advocate their maintenance at any cost. One
monk of York preached against purgatory, while some of his colleagues
defended the doctrine. All this gave rise to most exciting discussion
amongst the hearers. In addition to the two chief parties, there were
the profane, animated by a spirit of unbelief and without reverence
for sacred things. While pious men were peacefully assembled for the
reading of the Holy Scriptures, these mockers sat in public-houses
over their pots of beer, uttering their sarcasms against every body,
and especially against the priests. If they spoke of those who gave
only the wafer, and not the wine, they would say:--'That is because
he has drunk the whole of it; the bottle is empty.' At times they
undertook even to discuss, as in old times was done at Byzantium,
the most difficult points in theology, and this was still worse. The
king, anxious to play his part as head of the church, was desirous of
bringing about a union of the two chief parties, and had no doubt that
the party of the profane would then disappear. His favorite notion,
like that of princes in general, was to have but one single religious
opinion in his kingdom. Freedom was a restraint to him. He therefore
began, as the emperor Constantine had done, by attempting to gain his
end by means of a system of indifference and of subjection to his will.
In a royal proclamation he required that the party of reformation and
the party of tradition should 'draw in one yoke,'[284] like a pair of
good oxen at the plough. He did not omit, however, to read the priests
a lesson. He rebuked them for busying themselves far more with the
distribution of the consecrated wafer and with the sprinkling of their
flocks with holy water than with teaching them what these acts meant.
Indifference, however, was of course unattainable, for it implies that
each party should consider unimportant the very doctrines on which it
sets the highest value. Henry, nevertheless, boldly made the attempt.
When the parliament met on April 28, 1539, the lord chancellor
announced that the king was very anxious to see all his subjects
holding one and the same opinion in religion, and required that a
committee should be nominated to examine the various opinions, and
to draw up articles of agreement to which every one might give his
consent. On May 5 nine commissioners were named, five of whom were
Anglo-Catholics, and at their head was Lee, archbishop of York. A
project was presented 'for extirpating heresies among the people.' A
catalogue of heresies was to be drawn up and read at all the services.
The commissioners held discussion for one day, but neither of the two
parties would make any concession. As the vicegerent Cromwell and the
archbishop of Canterbury were in the ranks of the reformation party,
the majority was unable to gain the ascendency, and the commission
arrived at no decision.
The king was very much dissatisfied with this result. He had been
willing to leave the work of conciliation in the hands of the bishops,
and now the bishops did not agree. His patience, of which he had no
large stock, was exhausted. The Anglo-Catholic party took advantage of
his dissatisfaction, and hinted to him that if he really aimed at unity
he would have to take the matter into his own hands, and settle the
doctrine to which all must assent. Why should he allow his subjects the
liberty of thinking for themselves? Was he not in England master and
ruler of every thing?
[Sidenote: THE SIX ARTICLES.]
Another circumstance, of an entirely different kind, acted powerfully,
about this time, upon the king's mind. The pope had just entered into
an alliance with the emperor and the king of France. A fact of such
importance could not fail to make a great noise in England. 'Methinks,'
said one of the foreign diplomatists now in England, 'that if the pope
sent an interdict and excommunications, with an injunction that no
merchant should trade in any way with the English, the nation would,
without further trouble, bestir itself and compel the king to return
to the church.'[285] Henry, in alarm, adopted two measures of defence
against this triple alliance. He gave orders for the fortification of
the ports, examination of the condition of various landing-places, and
reviewing of the troops; and at the same time, instead of endeavoring
after a union of the two parties, he determined to throw himself
entirely on the Scholastic and Catholic side. He hoped thereby to
satisfy the majority of his subjects, who still adhered to the Roman
church, and perhaps also to appease the powers. 'The king is determined
on grounds of policy,' it was said, 'that these articles should
pass.'[286]
Six articles were therefore drawn up of a reactionary character, and
the duke of Norfolk was selected to bring them forward. He did not
pride himself on scriptural knowledge. 'I have never read the Holy
Scriptures and I never will read them,' he said; 'all that I want is
that every thing should be as it was of old.' But if Norfolk were not
a great theologian, he was the most powerful and the most Catholic
lord of the Privy Council and of the kingdom. On the 16th of May the
duke rose in the upper house and spoke to the following effect:--'The
commission which you had named has done nothing, and this we had
clearly foreseen. We come, therefore, to present to you six articles,
which, after your examination and approval, are to become binding.
They are the following: 1st, if any one allege that after consecration
there remains any other substance in the sacrament of the altar than
the natural body of Christ conceived of the Virgin Mary, he shall be
adjudged a heretic and suffer death by burning, and shall forfeit to
the king all his lands and goods, as in the case of high treason; 2d,
if any one teach that the sacrament is to be given to laymen under both
kinds; or 3d, that any man who has taken holy orders may nevertheless
marry; 4th, that man or woman who has vowed chastity may marry; 5th,
that private masses are not lawful and should not be used; or 6th,
that auricular confession is not according to the law of God, any such
person shall be adjudged to suffer death, and forfeit lands and goods
as a felon.'[287]
Cromwell had been obliged to sanction, and perhaps even to prepare,
this document. When once the king energetically announced his will
the minister bowed his head, knowing well that if he raised it in
opposition he would certainly lose it. Nevertheless, that he might
to some extent be justified in his own sight, he had resolved that
the weapon should be two-edged, and had added an article purporting
that any priest giving himself up to uncleanness should for the first
offence be deprived of his benefices, his goods, and his liberty, and
for the second should be _punished with death_ like the others.
[Sidenote: CRANMER'S OPPOSITION.]
These articles, which have been called _the whip with six strings_
and _the bloody statute_,[288] were submitted to the parliament. But
none of the lords temporal, or of the commons, aware that the king
was fully resolved, ventured to assail them. One man, however, rose,
and this was Cranmer. 'Like a constant patron of God's cause,' says
the chronicler, 'he took upon him the earnest defence of the truth
oppressed in the parliament; three days together disputing against
those six wicked articles; bringing forth such allegations and
authorities as might easily have helped the cause, _nisi pars major
vicisset, ut sæpe olet, meliorem_.'[289] Cranmer spoke temperately,
with respect for the sovereign, but also with fidelity and courage.
'It is not my own cause that I defend,' he said, 'it is that of God
Almighty.'
The archbishop of Canterbury was not, however, alone. The bishops who
belonged to the evangelical party, those of Worcester, Rochester, St.
David's, Ely, and Salisbury, likewise spoke against the articles.[290]
But the king insisted, and the act passed. These articles, said
Cranmer at a later time, were 'in some things so enforced by the evil
counsel of certain papists against the truth and common judgment
both of divines and lawyers, that if the king's Majesty himself
had not come personally into the parliament house, those laws had
never passed.'[291] Cranmer never signed nor consented to the Six
Articles.[292]
The parliament at the same time conferred on the king unlimited powers.
A bill was carried purporting that some having by their disobedience
shown that they did not well understand what a king can do by virtue of
his royal power, it was decreed that every proclamation of his majesty,
even when inflicting fines and penalties, should have the same force as
an act of parliament. Truth had already been sacrificed, and liberty
was to be the next victim.
Latimer, bishop of Worcester, did more than Cranmer. On July 1, eight
days after the close of the session, he resigned his bishopric, and his
heart leaped for joy as he laid aside his episcopal vestments. 'Now I
am rid of a heavy burden,' he said, 'and never did my shoulders feel
so light.' One of his former colleagues having expressed his surprise,
he replied: 'I am resolved to be guided only by the Book of God, and
sooner than depart one jot from that, let me be trampled under the
feet of wild horses!' He now withdrew into the country, intending to
lead there a quiet life. He took care of his flowers and gathered his
fruit. Having had a fall from a tree, he found it necessary to return
to London for the purpose of procuring surgical attendance. When the
government was informed of this, orders were given to arrest and commit
him to the Tower, and there he remained till the king's death. Shaxton,
bishop of Salisbury, likewise resigned his see, on what grounds we
do not know. Under Queen Mary he became a violent persecutor. Many
evangelical Christians quitted England, and among them especially to
be noted are Hooper, Rogers, and John Butler.[293] Cranmer remained in
his archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth; but he sent away his wife and
children to his wife's relations in Germany.
This want of fidelity on Cranmer's part is only explicable on the
ground of the efforts made by Henry VIII. to retain him. On the day
of the prorogation of parliament, June 28, 1539, Henry, fearing lest
the archbishop, disheartened and distrusted, should offer to him his
resignation, sent for him, and, receiving him with all the graciousness
of manner which he knew so well how to assume when he wished, said: 'I
have heard with what force and learning you opposed the Six Articles.
Pray state your arguments in writing, and deliver the statement to
me.' Nor was this all that Henry did. Desirous that all men, and
particularly the adherents of Anglo-Catholicism should know the esteem
which he felt for the primate, he commanded the leader of this party,
the duke of Norfolk, his brother-in-law, the duke of Suffolk, Norfolk's
rival, Lord Cromwell, and several other lords to dine the next day
with the archbishop at Lambeth. You will assure him, he said, of my
sincere affection, and you will add that although his arguments did not
convince the parliament, they displayed much wisdom and learning.
[Sidenote: THE KING AND THE PRIMATE.]
The company, according to the king's request, arrived at the
archbishop's palace, and Cranmer gave his guests an honorable
reception. The latter executed the king's commission, adding that
he must not be disheartened although the parliament had come to a
decision contrary to his opinion. Cranmer replied that 'he was obliged
to his majesty for his good affection, and to the lords for the pains
they have taken.' Then he added resolutely: 'I have hope in God that
hereafter my allegations and authorities will take place, to the glory
of God and commodity of the realm.' They sat down to table. Every guest
apparently did his best to make himself agreeable to the primate. 'My
lord of Canterbury,' said Cromwell, 'you are most happy of all men; for
you may do and speak what you list, and, say what all men can against
you, the king will never believe one word to detriment or hindrance.'
The meal, however, did not pass altogether so smoothly. The king had
brought together, in Cromwell and Norfolk, the most heterogeneous
elements; and the feast of peace was disturbed by a sudden explosion.
Cromwell, continuing his praises, instituted a parallel between
Cardinal Wolsey and the archbishop of Canterbury. 'The cardinal,' he
said, 'lost his friends by his haughtiness and pride; while you gain
over your enemies by your kindliness and your meekness.' 'You must
be well aware of that, my lord Cromwell,' said the duke of Norfolk,
'for the cardinal was _your master_.' Cromwell, stung by these words,
acknowledged the obligations under which he lay to the cardinal, but
added; 'I was never so far in love with him as to have waited upon him
to Rome if he had been chosen pope, as I understand, my lord duke, that
you would have done.' Norfolk denied this. But Cromwell persisted in
his assertion, and even specified a considerable sum which the duke
was to receive for his services as admiral to the new pope, and for
conducting him to Rome. The duke, no longer restraining himself, swore
with great oaths that Cromwell was a liar. The two speakers, forgetting
that they were attending a feast of peace, became more and more excited
and did not spare hard words. Cranmer interposed to pacify them. But
from this time these two powerful ministers of the king swore deadly
hatred to each other. One or other of them must needs fall.[294]
[Sidenote: CRANMER'S TIME-SERVING.]
The king's course with respect to Cranmer is not so strange as it
appears. Without Cranmer, he would have been under the necessity
of choosing another primate, and what a task would that have been.
Gardiner, indeed, was quite ready to take the post; but the king,
although he sometimes listened to him, placed no confidence in him. Not
only did it seem to Henry difficult to find any other man than Cranmer;
but there was a further difficulty of appointing an archbishop in due
form. Could it be done by the aid of the pope? Impossible. Without the
pope? This too was very difficult. The priesthood would not concede
such a power to the king, nor was it probable that they would accept
his choice. The king foresaw troubles and conflicts without end. The
best course was to keep the present primate, and this was the course
adopted. Herein lay the security of the archbishop in the midst of the
misfortunes and scenes of blood around him. He had made a declaration
of his faith, and he did not withdraw from it. He hoped for better
things, according to the advances which were made him. He believed that
by keeping his post he might prevent many calamities. The Six Articles
were a storm which must be allowed to blow over; and, in accordance
with his character, he bowed his head while the wind blew in that
direction.
The bloody statute was the cause of profound sorrow among the
evangelical Christians. Some of them, more hasty than others, making
use of the strong language of the time, asserted that the Six Articles
had been written, not with Gardiner's ink, as people said, 'but with
the blood of a dragon, or rather the claws of the Devil.'[295] They
have been spoken of, even by Roman Catholics of our own age, as
'the enactments of this severe and barbarous statute.'[296] But the
Catholics of that age rejoiced in them, and believed that it was all
over with the Reformation. Commissioners were immediately named to
execute this cruel law, and there was always a bishop among them.
These commissioners, who sat in London, in Mercer's Chapel, formerly a
dwelling house and the place of Becket's birth,[297] even exaggerated
the harshness of the Six Articles. Fifteen days had not elapsed before
five hundred persons were imprisoned, some for having read the Bible,
others for their posture at church. The greatest zeal was displayed
by Norfolk among the lords temporal, and by Stokesley, Gardiner, and
Tonstall among the lords spiritual. Their aim was to get a _Book of
Ceremonies_, a strange farrago of Romish superstitions, adopted as the
rule of worship.
The violent thunder-clap which had suddenly pealed over England,
and occasioned so much trouble, was nowhere on the Continent more
unexpected, nowhere excited a greater commotion than at Wittenberg.
Bucer on one side, and several refugees arriving at Hamburg on the
other, had made known this barbarous statute to the reformers, and had
entreated the Protestants of Germany to interpose with Henry in behalf
of their fellow-religionists. Luther, Melanchthon, Jonas, and Pomeranus
met together, and were unanimous in their indignation. 'The king,'
they said, 'knows perfectly well that our doctrine concerning the
sacrament, the marriage of priests, and other analogous subjects, is
true. How many books he has read on the subject! How many reports have
been made to him by the most competent judges! He has even had a book
translated, in which the whole matter is explained, and he makes use
of this book every day in his prayers. Has he not heard and approved
Latimer, Cranmer, and other pious divines? He has even censured the
king of France for condemning this doctrine. And now he condemns it
himself more harshly than the king or the pope. He makes laws like
Nebuchadnezzar, and declares that he will put to death any one who does
not observe them. Great sovereigns of our day are taking it into their
heads to fashion for themselves religions which may turn to their own
advantage, like Antiochus Epiphanes of old. I have power, says the king
of England, to require that any one of my courtiers shall not marry
so long as he intends to remain at court; for the same reason I have
also power to forbid the marriage of priests. We are now entreated to
address remonstrances to this prince. The Scriptures certainly teach
us to endeavor to bring back the weak; but it requires that the proud
who compound with their conscience should be left to go in their own
way. It is clear that the king of England makes terms with conscience.
He has already been warned, and has paid no attention; there is,
therefore, no hope that he will listen to reason if he be warned anew.
Consider, besides, what kind of men those are in whose hands he places
himself. Look at Gardiner, who while exposing before all the nation
his scandalous connections (_liaisons_) dares to assert that it is
contrary to the law of God for a minister of God to have a lawful
wife.'[298]
[Sidenote: EXCITEMENT IN GERMANY.]
Thus did the theologians of Wittenberg talk of the matter. Calvin
thought with them, and he wrote, almost on the same day, that the king
of England had distinctly shown his disposition by the impious edict
which he had published.[299] The doctors of Wittenberg referred to
the Elector; and the latter, to whom Henry VIII. had communicated the
Six Articles, requested them to make one more attempt to influence
the king. Melanchthon therefore wrote to him; and after an exordium
in which he endeavored to prepare the mind of Henry, he said, 'What
affects and afflicts me is not only the danger of those who hold
the same faith as we do; but it is to see you making yourself the
instrument of the impiety and cruelty of others; that the doctrine of
Christ is set aside in your kingdom, superstitious rites perpetuated,
and debauchery sanctioned; in a word, to see that the Roman
antichrist is rejoicing in his heart because you take up arms on his
side and against us, and is hoping, by means of your bishops, easily to
recover what by wise counsel has been taken from him.' Melanchthon then
combats the several articles and refutes the sophisms of the Catholic
party on the subject. 'Illustrious king,' he continued, 'I am grieved
at heart that you, while condemning the tyranny of the bishop of Rome,
should undertake the defence of institutions which are the very sinews
of his power. You are threatening the members of Jesus Christ with
the most atrocious punishments, and you are putting out the light of
evangelical truth which was beginning to shine in your churches. Sire,
this is not the way to put away antichrist, this is establishing
him ... this is confirmation of his idolatry, his errors, his cruelty,
and his debaucheries.
'I implore you, therefore, to alter the decree of your bishops. Let the
prayers offered up to God by so many pious souls throughout the world,
for the true reformation of the Church, for the suppression of impious
rites, and for the propagation of the Gospel, move you. Do justice
to those pious men who are now in prison for the Lord's sake. If you
do this, your great clemency will be praised by posterity as long as
learning exists. Behold how Jesus Christ wandered about from place to
place. He was hungry, he was thirsty, naked and bound; he complained of
the raging of the priests, of the unjust cruelty of kings; he commands
that the members of his body should not be torn in pieces, and that his
Gospel should be honored. It is the duty of a pious king to receive
this Gospel and to watch over it. By doing so, you will be rendering to
God acceptable worship.'[300]
Had these eloquent exhortations any influence on Henry VIII.? On a
former occasion he had shown himself rather provoked than pleased by
letters of the reformer.[301] However, after the loud peal of thunder
which had alarmed evangelical Christians in every part of Europe, the
horizon cleared a little, and the future looked less threatening.
There was one point on which Henry did incline rather to Cranmer's
side; this was auricular confession. Perhaps he dreaded it on political
grounds. Now the bishops were urgent for its universal adoption, and
Tonstall wrote to the king on the subject. Henry rejected his demand
and called him a self-willed man. He seemed thus to draw towards
reconciliation with his primate. Nor was this all. A bill had passed
withdrawing heretics from the jurisdiction of the bishops, and
subjecting them to the secular courts. The chancellor, supported by
Cranmer, Cromwell, and Suffolk, and with the sanction of the king, set
at liberty the five hundred persons who had been committed to prison.
The thunderbolt had indeed trenched the seas, but nobody was hurt--at
least for the moment.[302]
[Sidenote: THE MOCK SEA-FIGHT.]
Henry resorted to other means for the purpose of reassuring those
who imagined that the pope was already re-established in England. He
exhibited to the citizens of London the spectacle of one of those
sea-fights, on which the ancient Romans used to lavish such enormous
sums. Two galleys, one of them decorated with the royal ensigns, the
other with the papal arms, appeared on the Thames, and a naval combat
began. The two crews attacked each other; the struggle was sharp and
obstinate; at length the soldiers of the king boarded the enemy and
threw into the water amidst the shouts of the people an effigy of the
pope and images of several cardinals. The pontifical phantom, seized by
bold hands, was dragged through the streets; it was hung, drowned, and
burnt.[303] It would have been better for the king to let alone such
puerile and vulgar sports, which pleased none but the mob, and to give
more serious proofs of his attachment to the Gospel.