THE MARTYRS.
(1531.)
[Sidenote: Proclamation Against Papal Bulls.]
The first blows were aimed at the court-chaplain. The bishops, finding
it dangerous to have such a man near the king, would have liked (Latimer
tells us) to place him on burning coals.[139] But Henry loved him, the
blow failed, and the priests had to turn to those who were not so well
at court. Thomas Bilney, whose conversion had begun the Reformation in
England,[140] had been compelled to do penance at St. Paul’s Cross; but
from that time he became the prey of the direst terror. His backsliding
had manifested the weakness of his faith. Bilney possessed a sincere and
lively piety, but a judgment less sound than many of his friends. He had
not got rid of certain scruples which in Luther and Calvin had yielded
to the supreme authority of God’s Word.[141] In his opinion none but
priests consecrated by bishops had the power to bind and loose.[142]
This mixture of truth and error had caused his fall. Such sincere but
imperfectly enlightened persons are always to be met with—persons who,
agitated by the scruples of their conscience, waver between Rome and the
Word of God.
At last faith gained the upper hand in Bilney. Leaving his Cambridge
friends, he had gone into the Eastern counties to meet his martyrdom.
One day, arriving at a hermitage in the vicinity of Norwich, where a
pious woman dwelt, his words converted her to Christ.[143] He then began
to preach ‘openly in the fields’ to great crowds. His voice was heard in
all the county. Weeping over his former fall, he said: ‘That doctrine
which I once abjured is the truth. Let my example be a lesson to all who
hear me.’
Before long he turned his steps in the direction of London, and,
stopping at Ipswich, was not content to preach the Gospel only, but
violently attacked the errors of Rome before an astonished
audience.[144] Some monks had crept among his hearers, and Bilney,
perceiving them, called out: ‘_The Lamb of God taketh away the sins of
the world._ If the Bishop of Rome dares say that the hood of St. Francis
saves, he blasphemes the blood of the Saviour.’ John Huggen, one of the
monks, immediately made a note of the words. Bilney continued: ‘To
invoke the saints and not Christ, is to put the head under the feet and
the feet above the head.’[145] Richard Seman, the other brother, took
down these words. ‘Men will come after me,’ continued Bilney, ‘who will
teach the same faith, the true gospel of our Saviour, and will
disentangle you from the errors in which deceivers have bound you so
long.’ Brother Julius hastened to write down the bold prediction.
Latimer, surrounded by the favors of the king and the luxury of the
great, watched his friend from afar. He called to mind their walks in
the fields round Cambridge, their serious conversation as they climbed
the hill afterwards called after them the ‘heretic’s hill,’[146] and the
visits they had paid together to the poor and to the prisoners.[147]
Latimer had seen Bilney very recently at Cambridge in fear and anguish,
and had tried in vain to restore him to peace. ‘He now rejoiced that God
had endued him with such strength of faith that he was ready to be burnt
for Christ’s sake.’
[Sidenote: Bilney And Petit In Prison.]
Bilney, drawing still nearer to London, arrived at Greenwich about the
middle of July. He procured some New Testaments, and, hiding them
carefully under his clothes, called upon a humble Christian named
Staple. Taking them ‘out of his sleeves,’ he desired Staple to
distribute them among his friends. Then, as if impelled by a thirst for
martyrdom, he turned again towards Norwich, whose bishop, Richard Nix, a
blind octogenarian, was in the front rank of the persecutors. Arriving
at the solitary place where the pious ‘anachoress’ lived, he left one of
the precious volumes with her. This visit cost Bilney his life. The poor
solitary read the New Testament, and lent it to the people who came to
see her. The bishop, hearing of it, informed Sir Thomas More, who had
Bilney arrested,[148] brought to London, and shut up in the Tower.
Bilney began to breathe again: a load was taken off him; he was about to
suffer the penalty his fall deserved. In the room next his was John
Petit, a member of parliament of some eloquence, who had distributed his
books and his alms in England and beyond the seas. Philips, the
under-gaoler of the Tower, who was a good man, told the two prisoners
that only a wooden partition separated them, which was a source of great
joy to both. He would often remove a panel, and permit them to converse
and take their frugal meals together.[149]
This happiness did not last long. Bilney’s trial was to take place at
Norwich, where he had been captured: the aged Bishop Nix wanted to make
an example in his diocese. A crowd of monks—Augustins, Dominicans,
Franciscans, and Carmelites—visited the prison of the evangelist to
convert him. Dr. Gall, provincial of the Franciscans, having consented
that the prisoner should make use of Scripture,[150] was shaken in his
faith; but, on the other hand, Stokes, an Augustin and a determined
papist, repeated to Bilney: ‘If you die in your opinions, you will be
lost.’
The trial commenced, and the Ipswich monks gave their evidence. ‘He
said,’ deposed William Cade, ‘that the Jews and Saracens would have been
converted long since, if the idolatry of the Christians had not
disgusted them with Christianity.’—‘I heard him say,’ added Richard
Neale: ‘“down with your gods of gold, silver, and stone.”’—‘He stated,’
resumed Cade, ‘that the priests take away the offerings from the saints,
and hang them about their women’s necks; and then, if the offerings do
not prove fine enough, they are put upon the images again.’[151]
Every one foresaw the end of this piteous trial. One of Bilney’s friends
endeavored to save him. Latimer took the matter into the pulpit, and
conjured the judges to decide according to justice. Although Bilney’s
name was not uttered, they all knew who was meant. The Bishop of London
went and complained to the king that his chaplain had the audacity to
defend the heretic against the bishop and his judges.[152] ‘There is not
a preacher in the world,’ said Latimer, ‘who would not have spoken as I
have done, although Bilney had never existed.’ The chaplain escaped once
more, thanks to the favor he enjoyed with Henry.
Bilney was condemned, and, after being degraded by the priests, was
handed over to the sheriff, who, having great respect for his virtues,
begged pardon for discharging his duty. The prudent bishop wrote to the
chancellor, asking for an order to burn the heretic. ‘Burn him first,’
rudely answered More, ‘and then ask me for a bill of indemnity.’[153]
[Sidenote: Bilney With His Friends.]
A few of Bilney’s friends went to Norwich to bid him farewell: among
them was Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury. It was in the evening, and
Bilney was taking his last meal. On the table stood some frugal fare
(ale brew), and on his countenance beamed the joy that filled his soul.
‘I am surprised,’ said one of his friends, ‘that you can eat so
cheerfully.’—‘I only follow the example of the husbandmen of the
county,’ answered Bilney, ‘who, having a ruinous house to dwell in, yet
bestow cost so long as they may hold it up.’ With these words he rose
from the table, and sat down near his friends, one of whom said to him:
‘To-morrow the fire will make you feel its devouring fierceness, but
God’s Holy Spirit will cool it for your everlasting refreshing.’ Bilney,
appearing to reflect upon what had been said, stretched out his hand
towards the lamp that was burning on the table, and placed his finger in
the flame. ‘What are you doing?’ they exclaimed. ‘Nothing,’ he replied;
‘I am only trying my flesh. To-morrow God’s rods shall burn my whole
body in the fire.’ And, still keeping his finger in the flame, as if he
were making a curious experiment, he continued: ‘I feel that fire by
God’s ordinance is naturally hot; but yet I am persuaded, by God’s Holy
Word and the experience of the martyrs, that when the flames consume me
I shall not feel them. Howsoever, this stubble of my body shall be
wasted by it, a pain for the time is followed by joy unspeakable.’[154]
He then withdrew his finger, the first joint of which was burnt. He
added, ‘_When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be
burnt._’[155] ‘These words remained imprinted on the hearts of all who
heard them until the day of their death,’ says a chronicler.
Beyond the city gate—that known as the _Bishop’s gate_—was a low valley,
called the _Lollards’ pit_: it was surrounded by rising ground, forming
a sort of amphitheatre. On Saturday, the 19th of August, a body of
javelin-men came to fetch Bilney, who met them at the prison gate. One
of his friends approaching and exhorting him to be firm, Bilney replied:
‘When the sailor goes on board his ship and launches out into the stormy
sea, he is tossed to and fro by the waves; but the hope of reaching a
peaceful haven makes him bear the danger. My voyage is beginning, but
whatever storms I shall feel, my ship will soon reach the port.’[156]
Bilney passed through the streets of Norwich in the midst of a dense
crowd; his demeanor was grave, his features calm. His head had been
shaved, and he wore a layman’s gown. Dr. Warner, one of his friends,
accompanied him; another distributed liberal alms all along the route.
The procession descended into the Lollards’ pit, while the spectators
covered the surrounding hills. On arriving at the place of punishment,
Bilney fell on his knees and prayed, and then rising up, warmly embraced
the stake and kissed it.[157] Turning his eyes towards heaven, he next
repeated the Apostles’ Creed, and when he confessed the incarnation and
crucifixion of the Saviour his emotion was such that even the spectators
were moved. Recovering himself, he took off his gown, and ascended the
pile, reciting the hundred and forty-third psalm. Thrice he repeated the
second verse: ‘_Enter not into judgment with thy servant for in thy
sight shall no man living be justified_.’ And then he added: ‘_I stretch
forth my hands unto thee; my soul thirsteth after thee_.’ Turning
towards the executioner, he said: ‘Are you ready?’—‘Yes,’ was the reply.
Bilney placed himself against the post, and held up the chain which
bound him to it. His friend Warner, with eyes filled with tears, took a
last farewell. Bilney smiled kindly at him and said: ‘Doctor, _pasce
gregem tuum_; feed your flock, that when the Lord cometh he may find you
so doing.’ Several monks who had given evidence against him, perceiving
the emotion of the spectators, began to tremble, and whispered to the
martyr: ‘These people will believe that we are the cause of your death,
and will withhold their alms,’ Upon which Bilney said to them: ‘Good
folks, be not angry against these men for my sake; even should they be
the authors of my death, _it is not they_.’[158] He knew that his death
proceeded from the will of God. The torch was applied to the pile: the
fire smouldered for a few minutes, and then suddenly burning up
fiercely, the martyr was heard to utter the name of Jesus several times.
A strong wind which blew the flames on one side prolonged his agony;
thrice they seemed to retire from him, and thrice they returned, until
at length, the whole pile being kindled, he expired.
[Sidenote: Revolution In Men’s Mind.]
A strange revolution took place in men’s minds after this death: they
praised Bilney, and even his persecutors acknowledged his virtues.
‘Mother of Christ,’ exclaimed the Bishop of Norwich (it was his usual
oath), ‘I fear I have burnt Abel and let Cain go.’ Latimer was
inconsolable; twenty years later he still lamented his friend, and one
day (preaching before Edward VI.) he called to mind that Bilney was
always doing good, even to his enemies, and styled him ‘that blessed
martyr of God.’[159]
One martyrdom was not sufficient for the enemies of the Reformation.
Stokesley, Lee, Gardiner, and other prelates and priests, feeling
themselves guilty towards Rome, which they had sacrificed to their
personal ambition, desired to expiate their faults by sacrificing the
reformers. Seeing at their feet a fatal gulf, dug between them and the
Roman pontiff by their faithlessness, they desired to fill it up with
corpses. The persecution continued.
There was at that time a pious evangelist in the dungeons of the Bishop
of London. He was fastened upright to the wall, with chains round his
neck, waist, and legs. Usually the most guilty prisoners were permitted
to sit down, and even to lie on the floor; but for this man there was no
rest. It was Richard Bayfield, accused of bringing from the continent a
number of New Testaments translated by Tyndale.[160] When one of his
gaolers told him of Bilney’s martyrdom, he exclaimed: ‘And I too, and
hundreds of men with me, will die for the faith he has confessed.’ He
was brought shortly afterwards before the episcopal court. ‘With what
intent,’ asked Stokesley, ‘did you bring into the country the errors of
Luther, Œcolampadius the great heretic, and others of that damnable
sect?’—‘To make the Gospel known,’ answered Bayfield, ‘and to glorify
God before the people.’[161] Accordingly, the bishop, having condemned
and then degraded him, summoned the lord mayor and sheriffs of London,
‘by the bowels of Jesus Christ’ (he had the presumption to say), to do
to Bayfield ‘according to the _laudable custom_ of the famous realm of
England.’[162] ‘O ye priests,’ said the gospeller, as if inspired by the
Spirit of God, ‘is it not enough that your lives are wicked, but you
must prevent the life according to the Gospel from spreading among the
people?’ The bishop took up his crosier and struck Bayfield so violently
on the chest that he fell backwards and fainted.[163] He revived by
degrees, and said, on regaining his consciousness: ‘I thank God that I
am delivered from the wicked church of Antichrist, and am going to be a
member of the true Church which reigns triumphant in heaven.’ He mounted
the pile; the flames touching him only on one side, consumed his left
arm. With his right hand Bayfield separated it from his body, and the
arm fell. Shortly after this he ceased to pray, because he had ceased to
live.
John Tewkesbury, one of the most respected merchants in London, whom the
bishops had put twice to the rack already, and whose limbs they had
broken,[164] felt his courage revived by the martyrdom of his friend.
CHRIST ALONE, he said habitually: these two words were all his theology.
He was arrested, taken to the house of Sir Thomas More at Chelsea, shut
up in the porter’s lodge, his hands, feet, and head being held in the
stocks;[165] but they could not obtain from him the recantation they
desired. The officers took him into the chancellor’s garden, and bound
him so tightly to the _tree of truth_, as the renowned scholar called
it, that the blood started out of his eyes; after which they scourged
him.[166] Tewkesbury remained firm.
On the 16th of December the Bishop of London went to Chelsea and formed
a court. ‘Thou art a heretic,’ said Stokesley, ‘a backslider; thou hast
incurred the great excommunication. We shall deliver thee up to the
secular power.’ He was burnt alive at Smithfield on the 20th of
December, 1531. ‘Now,’ said the fanatical chancellor, ‘now is he
uttering cries in hell!’
[Sidenote: Utopias Of The Bishops.]
Such were at this period the cruel _utopias_ of the bishops and of the
witty Sir Thomas More. Other evangelical Christians were thrown into
prison. In vain did one of them exclaim: ‘the more they persecute this
sect, the more will it increase.’[167] That opinion did not check the
persecution. ‘It is impossible,’ says Foxe (doubtless with some
exaggeration), ‘to name all who were persecuted before the time of Queen
Anne Boleyn. As well try to count the grains of sand on the seashore!’
Thus did the real Reformation show by the blood of its martyrs that it
had nothing to do with the policy, the tyranny, the intrigues, and the
divorce of Henry VIII. If these men of God had not been burnt by that
prince, it might possibly have been imagined that he was the author of
the transformation of England; but the blood of the reformers cried to
heaven that he was its executioner.
Footnote 139:
‘Ye would have raked in the coals.’—Latimer, _Works_, i. p. 46 (Parker
Soc.); Tyndale, _Op._ iii. p. 231.
Footnote 140:
_History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century_, vol. v. bk.
xviii. ch. ii. ix. xii.; bk. xix. ch. vii.; bk. xx. ch. xv.
Footnote 141:
‘A man of a timorous conscience, and not fully resolved touching that
matter of the Church.’—Foxe, _Acts_, p. 649.
Footnote 142:
‘Soli sacerdotes, ordinati ritè per pontifices, habent claves.’—Ibid.
Footnote 143:
‘The anachoress whom he had converted to Christ.’—Foxe, _Acts_, p.
642.
Footnote 144:
Herbert, p. 357.
Footnote 145:
‘Like as if a man should take and strike off the head and set it under
the foot, and to set the foot above.’—Foxe, _Acts_, iv. p. 649.
Footnote 146:
Latimer, _Remains_, p. xiii.
Footnote 147:
Ibid.
Footnote 148:
‘Fit empoigner.’—Crespin, _Actes des Martyrs_, p. 101.
Footnote 149:
Strype, p. 313.
Footnote 150:
‘As he had planted himself upon the firm rock of God’s Word.’—Foxe,
_Acts_, iv. p. 643.
Footnote 151:
Foxe, _Acts_, iv. p. 648.
Footnote 152:
Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 330 (Parker Soc.).
Footnote 153:
Ibid. p. 650.
Footnote 154:
Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 650 (Parker Soc.).
Footnote 155:
Isaiah xliii. 2. In Bilney’s Bible, which is preserved in the library
of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, this passage (verses 1-3) is
marked in the margin with a pen.
Footnote 156:
Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 654 (Parker Soc.).
Footnote 157:
Foxe, _Acts_, iv. p. 655, note.
Footnote 158:
Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 655 (Parker Soc.).
Footnote 159:
‘And toward his enemy so charitable.’—Latimer, _Works_, ii. p. 330.
(Parker Soc.).
Footnote 160:
_History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century_, vol. v. bk. xx.
ch. xv.
Footnote 161:
‘To the intent that the Gospel of Christ might be set forward.’—Foxe,
_Acts_, iv. p. 683.
Footnote 162:
Ibid. p. 687.
Footnote 163:
‘He took his crozier-staff and smote him oh the breast.’—Ibid.
Footnote 164:
_History of the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century_, vol. v. bk. xx.
ch. vii.
Footnote 165:
Foxe, _Acts_, iv. p. 689.
Footnote 166:
‘And also twisted in his brows with small ropes so that the
blood....’—Ibid.
Footnote 167:
Cotton MS. Anderson, _Annals of Bible_, i. p. 310. ‘It will cause the
sect to wax greater, and those errors to be more plenteously sowed in
the realm, than heretofore.’