The news brought by Arthur Cole to the house by the bridge was true
enough. Anthony Dalaber had scarce answered the questions put to
him by the prior of students at Gloucester College before he was
called to answer more interrogatories before other potentates of
the university.
He was bidden to follow the beadle and servants who had come for
him without further ado, and had not so much as time to go to his
room to make any change of shoes or hosen, which were bedaubed with
mud, from his having come through the wet streets and miry roads to
Gloucester College that morning at sunrise. Having been told by the
monk that the prior's summons was urgent, he had presented himself
before him instantly; and now he was hurried off in the direction
of Lincoln College, with the soil and dishevelment of his sleepless
night yet upon him.
Matins were evidently just over, and the students had left the
chapel, but to his surprise Dalaber was pushed into that place by
his conductors; and there, beside the altar, he saw Dr. Cottisford
in close confabulation with Dr. Higdon, the Dean of Cardinal
College, and Dr. London, the Warden of New College. These three men
were noted throughout the university for their hatred of heresy in
any form, and their abhorrence of the movement which had begun to
show itself amongst the students and masters. Dalaber felt a
certain sinking of spirit as he saw their stern faces, and noted
their gestures and the vehemence of their discourse. He felt it
boded no good to him, and he lifted his soul in silent prayer for
help and strength and wisdom.
Then they saw his approach, regarding him with lowering and
wrathful glances; and at a sign from them one of the servants
fetched chairs in which they seated themselves just without the
choir, and the prisoner stood before them. A man in the garb of a
notary fetched a small table, with ink horn and parchment, as
though to make notes of the answers of the accused.
"Your name is Anthony Dalaber," spoke the commissary sternly; "what
is your age and standing in the university?"
Dalaber explained in a few words what was asked of him, and
answered some quick questions as to his removal from hall to
college without betraying any confusion or hesitation.
"What made you desire to study the law rather than continue in the
study of theology and divinity?"
"I had reached the conclusion that I was not fitted for the life of
a priest," answered Dalaber; "there were too many questions that
troubled and perplexed me. In the study of the law I was free from
these; therefore I resolved that that should be my vocation."
Dr. Cottisford frowned heavily.
"What need have you young men to trouble yourselves with vexed
questions? I have heard of you, Anthony Dalaber, and it is no good
report that hath been brought to me. You have been known to consort
this long while with that pestilent heretic, Thomas Garret. He has
lodged with you many a time, has lain concealed in your chamber at
St. Alban Hall, and has left in your charge a quantity of his
pernicious books, which doubtless you have assisted him to
distribute amongst other students, so spreading the poison of
heresy in our godly and obedient university, and seeking to turn it
into a hotbed of error and sin."
Dalaber made no response, but his heart beat thick and fast. It
seemed as though all were indeed known.
"Speak!" thundered Dr. London, now breaking in with no small fury;
"what have you to say to such a charge?"
"I have known Master Garret, it is true," answered Dalaber, picking
his words carefully. "He is an ordained priest in the church. He is
a godly man--"
"Peace!" roared the angry warden; "we are not here to bandy words
with you, Anthony Dalaber. We know what Thomas Garret is, and so do
you. Have a care how you provoke us. He was known to be with you
the night that he escaped first from Oxford. He is known to have
been in your chamber yesterday, ere he slipped away for the second
time. Do you dare to deny it?"
Dalaber looked with quiet firmness into the angry faces that
confronted him.
"Master Garret visited me yesterday," he answered quietly, "and
went forth from my chamber after a short while, when we had offered
prayer and supplication there together."
"And whither went he?"
"I know not, unless to Woodstock, where he spoke of having a friend
among the keepers," answered Dalaber, repeating the fiction he had
spoken to the prior.
"Tush!" cried the commissary angrily; "right well do you know that
you went with him, and kept company with him through the night.
Your shoes and your hosen show as much. You have been companying
with him for many a mile upon the way. You have not been in bed all
night. We were in your room before daybreak, and you were not
there."
"I abode last night with Master Fitzjames, my former comrade, in
our old lodging at St. Alban Hall," answered Dalaber readily, "and
that can be proven of many witnesses. Neither did I go forth with
Master Garret when he left. I came to St. Frideswyde for evensong,
and there I saw you, Mr. Commissary, and you, Dr. London, enter to
speak with the dean. And I did well guess that you had come to tell
him of the escape of Master Garret, of which he had spoken with me
a short while before."
It was perhaps not a very politic speech on Dalaber's part. The
three men turned angry and threatening glances upon him.
"You knew that that pestilent man was being sought for, and had
escaped out of our hands, and you assisted him to further flight,
and told nothing of what had chanced. Do you know the penalty which
is attached to such misdemeanors, Anthony Dalaber?"
He made no answer. He knew himself to be in their power; but he
resolved not to commit himself or to betray others by any rashness,
whereunto by nature he was somewhat prone.
The three judges conferred together for a brief while, and then
ordered that a Mass book should be brought, and bade Dalaber lay
his hand upon it and swear to answer truthfully all questions put
to him.
"That will I not do," he answered, "for I will not speak of those
matters which concern other men. And as for myself, it is
abundantly plain that you know already all that there is to be
spoken of mine own affairs."
A smile passed over Dr. Higdon's face. He was the least severe of
the three men, and something in Dalaber's bold bearing touched a
sympathetic chord in his heart.
"Then, friend Anthony, why should you fear to be sworn? I pray you,
show not yourself disobedient and contumacious, lest you bring
discredit and trouble upon yourself which otherwise you may escape.
It is not our wish to deal harshly with any man; but we would fain
purge our godly colleges from the taint of deadly sin. If you are
not guilty of such sin in your own soul, have no fear. It is a
guilty conscience that makes men fear to lay hands upon the holy
Book and take the name of the Most High upon their lips."
This specious but rather vague reasoning had its effect upon
Anthony; and even more did the kindliness with which the words were
spoken prevail with him, so that he consented to swear to speak the
truth, though in his heart he resolved that he would only answer
for himself, and that nothing which might incriminate others should
pass his lips.
A long interrogatory now followed, in which he had much ado to
fence and parry many of the questions. He soon learned, to his deep
grief and sorrow of heart, that John Clarke was under suspicion, if
not already arrested under the charge of heresy. He admitted to
have been much in his company, and to have attended his public
lectures, his public preachings, and those meetings in his rooms
for reading, meditation, and discussion, which had long been going
on. These were well known by this time to the authorities; but only
since the cardinal's letter had stirred up suspicion and fear had
there been any distrust aroused as to the nature of such meetings.
A whisper here, a hint there, had lately gone abroad, and now
Anthony was closely questioned as to the nature of the doctrines
discussed, and the readings which had taken place.
He answered that no word had ever passed Master Clarke's lips that
was not godly, pious, and full of the Holy Ghost. He heeded not the
angry looks of Dr. London and the commissary, but addressed himself
to Dr. Higdon, who was evidently wishful to think as well as
possible of one of the leading canons of his own college. Anthony
strenuously denied that Clarke had had any hand in the distribution
of forbidden books or translations of the Scriptures. When they
read the Bible together, it was read both in the original and in
the vulgar tongue, so that the two versions might be carefully
studied together; and Dalaber maintained with spirit and success
the arguments learned from Clarke that the Catholic Church in this
land had never forbidden such reading and study of God's Word. Dr.
Higdon might have been satisfied, and even spoke a few words in
favour of letting the young man go to his lodgings, only binding
him over to appear when summoned in the future.
But the other two, having lost Garret, were resolved to make the
most of his accomplice; and they argued that what Master Clarke had
or had not said was not the main point at issue. He might or might
not be the dangerous heretic some asserted. What they maintained
was that Dalaber had been associated with Garret in a hundred ways,
and that a great bale of forbidden books had been discovered in a
secret hiding place just outside his deserted chamber at St. Alban
Hall; and that, until he had given some better account of himself
and his connection with these matters, he should certainly not be
allowed to depart. Moreover, they desired to know the names of
other students who had attended Master Clarke's readings and
discussions. These were known to have taken place; but as they were
mostly held in the evening after dark, it was not so easy to
discover who attended them, and Dalaber was required to give such
names as he could remember.
But here he was resolutely silent, and this so obstinately that he
irritated his questioners to the extreme, even Dr. Higdon losing
patience with him at the last. Dalaber's manner was bold, and to
them aggressive. The poor youth at heart felt fearful enough as he
marked the anger his obstinacy had aroused; but he was resolved not
to show fear, and not to betray others. He admitted freely that he
had helped Garret in the distribution of the forbidden books.
Denial would have been useless, even could he have brought himself
to take a lie upon his lips and perjure himself; but he absolutely
refused to give the names of any persons to whom the books had been
given or sold, and this refusal evoked a great deal of anger and
some rather terrible threats.
"Young man," said Dr. London sternly, "do you know what can and may
well be done to you if you remain thus obstinate, and refuse the
information which we, as the guardians of the university, do justly
demand of you?"
"I am in your power," answered Dalaber; "you can do with me what
you will."
"We can do but little," answered Dr. London. "We can do little but
keep you safe in ward--safer than Master Garret was kept; and that
shall be my task. But what we can do later is to send you to the
Tower of London, where they will examine you by the rack, and
thrust you into the little-ease to meditate of your obstinacy; and
then will you desire that you had spoken without such harsh
pressure, and had listened to the words of counsel and warning
given you by those who have your welfare at heart. If once you are
handed over to the secular arm, there is no knowing what the end
may be. Therefore take heed and be not so stubborn."
They watched his face closely as these terrible threats were made;
and Anthony, aware of their scrutiny, braced himself to meet it,
and to show no signs of any sinking at heart. And indeed the very
imminence of the threatened peril seemed to act as a tonic upon his
nerves, and he felt something of the strengthening power which has
been promised to those who suffer persecution for conscience' sake;
so that at that moment there was no fear in his heart, but a
conviction that God would fight for him and keep him strong in the
faith. Come what might, he would not betray his friends.
It was not a question of subtle doctrines, in which his
understanding might become confused; it was a simple question of
honour betwixt man and man, friend and friend. He had the power to
betray a vast number of men who had trusted him, and nothing would
induce him to do it, not even the threat of torture and death. He
trusted to be able to endure both, should that be his fate.
"Take him away," spoke Dr. London at last, in a voice of
thunder--"take him away, and we will see him again when discipline
has something tamed his spirit. And it will then be strange if we
cannot wring somewhat more from him. I will see him myself at a
later hour; and you, Dr. Cottisford, will have a care that he doth
not escape, as Master Garret did yesterday."
"I have provided against that, methinks," was the rather grim
reply; and forthwith the three men rose and marched towards the
chapel door, the prisoner being led after them by the servants.
The commissary then led the way through various passages and up a
long stair, and Dalaber gazed with interest as he passed through
the door of a large upper chamber, where a strange-looking
apparatus stood in one corner. It was something like the stocks set
in the marketplaces of the towns, for the detention of rogues and
vagrants; but the holes in this were very high up, yet scarce high
enough for the hands of a man standing.
"Empty your pockets, Anthony Dalaber," spoke the commissary
sternly; and when Dalaber had obeyed, he quietly possessed himself
of his purse, loose money, knives, and tablets, which, with the
girdle he wore, were wrapped together and made into a packet.
"If you are found guiltless of the charges wherewith you stand
accused, you shall have them again," said Dr. Cottisford somewhat
grimly; "meantime they will be safer with me."
Dalaber's heart sank somewhat, for he had a few silver pieces in
his purse, and had thought perchance to purchase therewith some
greater favour from his jailers, whosoever they should be; but
being thus robbed, he was powerless in the matter, and could only
trust that they would not deal with him over harshly, since he had
no means of winning favour and ease.
"Set him in the stocks and leave him," spoke the commissary. "Then
we shall know there can be none escape."
Anthony made no resistance as he was forced to the ground and his
legs firmly locked into the stocks, so that his feet were well nigh
as high as his head. He uttered no complaint, and he spoke not a
word of supplication, although the commissary lingered for a few
moments as though to give him chance to do this; but as he remained
silent and irresponsive, the latter left the room with a muttered
word that sounded like an imprecation, and Dalaber heard the
chamber door locked behind him as the last servant took his
departure.
Left thus alone in that constrained posture, the thoughts of
Dalaber flew back to those words of fatherly counsel and warning
spoken the previous year by his master and friend John Clarke; and
half aloud did Dalaber repeat the concluding sentence of that
address: "Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine; then
will ye curse Clarke, and wish ye had never known him, because he
hath brought you to all these troubles."
"No, no!" cried Dalaber eagerly, as though crying aloud to one who
could hear his words; "that will I never do, God helping me. Come
what may, I will thank and praise Him that I have been honoured by
the friendship of such a saint upon earth. I thank Him that I have
learned to love and to know the Scriptures as I never could have
known them but for reading them in mine own tongue, and hearing him
discourse upon them. Come what may, none can take that knowledge
from me. Whatever I may have to suffer, I shall ever have that
treasure in mine heart. And since I am no heretic in doctrine, and
believe all that the canons of the church teach, how can they treat
me as one who hates and would confound her? I am no follower of
Martin Luther, though I hold that he is waging war in a righteous
cause. But I would see the church arise and cast forth from herself
those things which defile; and more and more do her holy and pious
sons agree in this, that she doth need some measure of purification,
ere she can be fit to be presented to the Father as the bride of
the Lamb."
Dalaber was just now under the influences of Clarke rather than of
Garret. It was not only fear of what was coming upon him, though
that might have some share in the matter, but he had found of late
more comfort in the spiritual utterances of Clarke than in the
bellicose teachings of Garret. Moreover, he had not been blind to
the fact that Garret's courage had ebbed very visibly under the
stress of personal peril, whilst Clarke's spirit had remained calm
and unshaken. Dalaber had keen sympathy with Garret, in whose
temperament he recognized an affinity with his own, and whose
tremors and fits of weakness and yielding he felt he might well
share under like trial and temptation. Indeed, he did not deny to
himself that, were he not thus fast bound, he might have attempted
the escape which yesterday he had scorned. But he thought upon the
words of his beloved master, and spent the long, weary hours in
meditation and prayer; so that when the commissary visited him
later in the day and questioned him again, although he still
refused to implicate others in any charge, he spoke of his own
convictions with modesty and propriety, so that the commissary
began to question whether he were, after all, so black a heretic as
had been painted, and promised that he should have food sent him,
together with pens and paper, on which he was desired to set forth
a confession of his faith. He was not, however, released from the
stocks until the college was safely shut up for the night, and all
gates closed.
Dalaber wrote his confession of faith with great care and skill;
and he trusted that he had not committed himself to any doctrine
which would arouse the ire of those who would read it. Those very
early reformers (to use the modern term) were in a very difficult
position, in that they had very slight cause of quarrel with the
church of which they called themselves true sons. Modern
Protestants find it hard to believe what men like Wycliffe and
Latimer taught on many cardinal points. To them it would sound like
"rank papacy" now. The split between the two camps in the church
has gradually widened and widened, till there seems no bridging the
gap between Christian and Christian, between churchman and
churchman--all being members of one Catholic Church.
But it was not so in the days of Anthony Dalaber. The thought of
split and schism was pain and grief to most. Luther had foreseen
it, was working for it, and the leaven of his teaching was
permeating this and other lands; but it had taken no great hold as
yet. The church was revered and venerated of her children, and here
in England the abuses rampant in so many lands were far less
flagrant.
England had been kept from much evil by her inherent distrust of
papal supremacy. The nation had more or less combated it in all
centuries. Rome's headship only received a qualified assent.
Sovereigns and people had alike resented the too great exercise of
the papal prerogative; and this had done much for the church in
England. It seemed as though a very little would be enough to serve
the purpose of these early reformers, and in the main they held the
doctrines taught, and were willing and ready to obey most of the
church's injunctions.
A man like Anthony Dalaber, versatile and eager, easily roused to
enthusiasm and passionate revolt, but as easily soothed by
gentleness and kindly argument of a truly Catholic kind, was not a
little perplexed in such a situation as he now found himself. It
seemed to him that he would be in a far more false position as a
branded heretic, debarred from the communion of the church, than as
a faithful son, undergoing some penance and discipline at her
hands. He spent many long and painful hours writing out his
confession, seeking to make plain the condition of his mind, and
proving to his own satisfaction that he was no heretic. He only
claimed that men might have liberty to read for themselves in their
own tongue the words of the Lord and His apostles, and judge for
themselves, under reasonable direction, what these words meant. For
the rest, he had little quarrel with the church, save that he
thought the sale of indulgences and benefices should be stopped;
and in conclusion he begged that, if he had spoken amiss, he might
be corrected and reproved, but not given over as a reprobate or
heretic.
Perhaps, had the words of this confession been read a few days
earlier, Dalaber might have escaped with no more than a reprimand
and heavy penance. But unluckily for himself the bale of books last
brought by Garret, hidden near to his chamber, and traced therefore
direct to him, contained writings of a character more inflammatory
and controversial than anything which had gone before--books which
were thought full of deadly errors, and against which exception
could very well be taken on many grounds, both on account of their
violent tone and their many contradictions.
As a matter of fact, Dalaber had hardly read any of these treatises
himself. He had been otherwise occupied of late. But it was not
likely that the authorities would believe any such disclaimer, or
leave at large one who had meddled with what they regarded as so
deadly a traffic.
When Anthony's confession was brought to them, they were sitting in
conclave over these books, and with a list which had been found of
the names and number of works brought over and circulated by
Garret. The magnitude of the traffic excited in them the utmost
concern and dismay. If one half had been circulated in Oxford,
there was no knowing the extent of the mischief which might follow.
It was necessary that an example should be made. Already close
inquiry had elicited the names of some dozen students or masters
concerned. Dalaber and Clarke were accounted ringleaders, but
others came in for their share of blame.
By Monday night quite a dozen more arrests had been made, and
Anthony Dalaber was only taken from the commissary's chamber to be
thrown into prison in Oxford, with the grim threat of the Tower of
London sounding in his ears.