was given to the people by Tyndale in 1526. In the parsonages and in
the convent cells, but particularly in shops and cottages, a crowd of
persons were studying the New Testament. The clearness of the Holy
Scriptures struck each reader. None of the systematic or aphoristic
forms of the school were to be found there: it was the language of
human life which they discovered in those divine writings: here a
conversation, there a discourse; here a narrative, and there a
comparison; here a command, and there an argument; here a parable, and
there a prayer. It was not all doctrine or all history; but these two
elements mingled together made an admirable whole. Above all, the life
of our Saviour, so divine and so human, had an inexpressible charm
which captivated the simple. One work of Jesus Christ explained
another, and the great facts of the redemption, birth, death, and
resurrection of the Son of God, and the sending of the Holy Ghost,
followed and completed each other. The authority of Christ's teaching,
so strongly contrasting with the doubts of the schools, increased the
clearness of his discourses to his readers; for the more certain a
truth is, the more distinctly it strikes the mind. Academical
explanations were not necessary to those noblemen, farmers, and
citizens. It is to me, for me, and of me that this book speaks, said
each one. It is I whom all these promises and teachings concern. This
_fall_ and this _restoration_ ... they are mine. That old _death_ and
this new _life_.... I have passed through them. That _flesh_ and that
_spirit_.... I know them. This _law_ and this _grace_, this _faith_,
these _works_, this _slavery_, this _glory_, this _Christ_ and this
_Belial_ ... all are familiar to me. It is my own history that I find
in this book. Thus by the aid of the Holy Ghost each one had in his
own experience a key to the mysteries of the Bible. To understand
certain authors and certain philosophers, the intellectual life of the
reader must be in harmony with theirs; so must there be an intimate
affinity with the holy books to penetrate their mysteries. "The man
that has not the Spirit of God," said a reformer, "does not understand
one jot or tittle of the Scripture."[590] Now that this condition was
fulfilled, the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
[590] Nullus homo unum iota in Scripturis sacris videt, nisi qui
spiritum Dei habet. (Luther, De servo arbitrio, Witt. ii. p. 424.) No
man but he who has the Spirit of God can see a single jot in the
sacred scriptures.
Such at that period were the hermeneutics of England. Tyndale had set
the example himself by explaining many of the words which might stop
the reader. "The _New Testament_!" we may suppose some farmer saying,
as he took up the book; "what _Testament_ is that?" "Christ," replied
Tyndale in his prologue, "commanded his disciples before his death to
publish over all the world _his last will_, which is to give all his
goods unto all that repent and believe.[591] He bequeaths them his
righteousness to blot out their sins--his salvation to overcome their
condemnation; and this is why that document is called the _Testament_
of Jesus Christ."
[591] Tyndale and Fryth's Works (ed. Russell.). vol. ii. p. 491. The
"Pathway unto the Holy Scripture" is the prologue to the quarto
Testament, with a few changes of little importance.
"The _law_ and the _Gospel_," said a citizen of London, in his shop;
"what is that?" "They are two _keys_," answered Tyndale. "The _law_ is
the key which shuts up all men under condemnation, and the _Gospel_ is
the key which opens the door and lets them out. Or, if you like it,
they are two salves. The law, sharp and biting, driveth out the
disease and killeth it; while the Gospel, soothing and soft, softens
the wound and brings life."[592] Everyone understood and read, or
rather devoured the inspired pages; and the hearts of the elect (to
use Tyndale's words), warmed by the love of Jesus Christ, began to
melt like wax.[593]
[592] Tyndale and Fryth's Works (ed. Russell), vol. ii, p. 503.
[593] Ibid. p. 500.
[Sidenote: MORE'S SON-IN-LAW.]
This transformation was observed to take place even in the most
catholic families. Roper, More's son-in-law, having read the New
Testament, received the truth. "I have no more need," said he, "of
auricular confession, of vigils, or of the invocation of saints. The
ears of God are always open to hear us. Faith alone is necessary to
salvation. I believe ... and I am saved.... Nothing can deprive me of
God's favour."[594]
[594] More's Life, p. 134.
The amiable and zealous young man desired to do more. "Father," said
he one day to Sir Thomas, "procure for me from the king, who is very
fond of you, a license to preach. God hath sent me to instruct the
world." More was uneasy. Must this new doctrine, which he detests,
spread even to his children? He exerted all his authority to destroy
the work begun in Roper's heart. "What," said he with a smile, "is it
not sufficient that we that are your friends should know that you are
a fool, but you would proclaim your folly to the world? Hold your
tongue: I will debate with you no longer." The young man's imagination
was struck, but his heart had not been changed. The discussions having
ceased, the father's authority being restored, Roper became less
fervent in his faith, and gradually he returned to popery, of which he
was afterwards a zealous champion.
The humble curate of All Hallows having sold the New Testament to
persons living in London and its neighbourhood, and to many pious men
who would carry it to the farthest parts of England, formed the
resolution to introduce it into the University of Oxford, that citadel
of traditional catholicism. It was there he had studied, and he felt
towards that school the affection which a son bears to his mother: he
set out with his books.[595] Terror occasionally seized him, for he
knew that the word of God had many deadly enemies at Oxford; but his
inexhaustible zeal overcame his timidity. In concert with Dalaber, he
stealthily offered the mysterious book for sale; many students bought
it, and Garret carefully entered their names in his register. This was
in January 1526; an incident disturbed this Christian activity.
[595] And brought with him Tyndale's first translation of the New
Testament in English. Foxe, Acts, v, p. 421.
[Sidenote: HENRY VIII AND HIS VALET.]
One morning when Edmund Moddis, one of Henry's valets-de-chambre, was
in attendance on his master, the prince, who was much attached to him,
spoke to him, of the new books come from beyond the sea. "If your
grace," said Moddis, "would promise to pardon me and certain
individuals, I would present you a wonderful book which is dedicated
to your majesty."[596] "Who is the author?" "A lawyer of Gray's Inn
named Simon Fish, at present on the continent." "What is he doing
there?" "About three years ago, Mr. Row, a fellow-student of Gray's
Inn, composed for a private theatre a drama against my lord the
cardinal." The king smiled; when his minister was attacked, his own
yoke seemed lighter. "As no one was willing to represent the character
employed to give the cardinal his lesson," continued the valet,
"Master Fish boldly accepted it. The piece produced a great effect;
and my lord being informed of this impertinence, sent the police one
night to arrest Fish. The latter managed to escape, crossed the sea,
joined one Tyndale, the author of some of the books so much talked of;
and, carried away by his friend's example, he composed the book of
which I was speaking to your grace." "What's the name of it?" "_The
Supplication of the Beggars._"--"Where did you see it?"--"At two of
your tradespeople's, George Elyot and George Robinson;[597] if your
grace desires it, they shall bring it you." The king appointed the day
and the hour.
[596] His grace should see such a book as it was a marvel to hear of.
Foxe, Acts, iv, p. 658.
[597] Ibid.
The book was written for the king, and every body read it but the king
himself. At the appointed day, Moddis appeared with Elyot and
Robinson, who were not entirely without fear, as they might be accused
of proselytism even in the royal palace. The king received them in his
private apartments.[598] "What do you want," he said to them. "Sir,"
replied one of the merchants, "we are come about an extraordinary book
that is addressed to you." "Can one of you read it to me?"--"Yes, if
it so please your grace," replied Elyot. "You may repeat the contents
from memory," rejoined the king ... "but, no, read it all; that will
be better. I am ready." Elyot began,
"THE SUPPLICATION OF THE BEGGARS."
[Sidenote: HOW A STATE IS RUINED.]
"To the king our sovereign lord,--
"Most lamentably complaineth of their woeful misery, unto your
highness, your poor daily bedesmen, the wretched hideous monsters, on
whom scarcely, for horror, any eye dare look; the foul unhappy sort of
lepers and other sore people, needy, impotent, blind, lame, and sick,
that live only by alms; how that their number is daily sore increased,
that all the alms of all the well-disposed people of this your realm
are not half enough to sustain them, but that for very constraint they
die for hunger.
"And this most pestilent mischief is come upon your said poor
bedesmen, by the reason that there hath, in the time of your noble
predecessors, craftily crept into this your realm, another sort, not
of impotent, but of strong, puissant, and counterfeit, holy and idle
beggars and vagabonds, who by all the craft and wiliness of Satan are
now increased not only into a great number, but also into a kingdom."
[598] Ibid.
Henry was very attentive: Elyot continued:
"These are not the shepherds, but the ravenous wolves going in
shepherds' clothing, devouring the flock: bishops, abbots, priors,
deacons, archdeacons, suffragans, priests, monks, canons, friars,
pardoners, and sumners.... The goodliest lordships, manors, lands, and
territories are theirs. Besides this, they have the tenth part of all
the corn, meadow, pasture, grass, wood, colts, calves, lambs, pigs,
geese, and chickens. Over and besides, the tenth part of every
servant's wages, the tenth part of wool, milk, honey, wax, cheese, and
butter. The poor wives must be accountable to them for every tenth
egg, or else she getteth not her rights [_i. e._ absolution] at
Easter.... Finally what get they in a year? Summa totalis: £430,333,
6s. 8d. sterling, whereof not four hundred years past they had not a
penny....
"What subjects shall be able to help their prince, that be after this
fashion yearly polled? What good Christian people can be able to
succour us poor lepers, blind, sore and lame, that be thus yearly
oppressed?... The ancient Romans had never been able to have put all
the whole world under their obeisance, if they had had at home such an
idle sort of cormorants."
No subject could have been found more likely to captivate the king's
attention. "And what doth all this greedy sort of sturdy idle holy
thieves with their yearly exactions that they take of the people?
Truly nothing, but translate all rule, power, lordship, authority,
obedience, and dignity from your grace unto them. Nothing, but that
all your subjects should fall into disobedience and rebellion....
Priests and doves make foul houses; and if you will ruin a state, set
up in it the pope with his monks and clergy.... Send these sturdy
loobies abroad in the world to take them wives of their own, and to
get their living with their labour in the sweat of their faces....
Then shall your commons increase in riches; then shall matrimony be
much better kept; then shall not your sword, power, crown, dignity,
and obedience of your people be translated from you."
When Elyot had finished reading, the king was silent, sunk in thought.
The true cause of the ruin of the state had been laid before him; but
Henry's mind was not ripe for these important truths. At last he said,
with an uneasy manner: "If a man who desires to pull down an old wall,
begins at the bottom, I fear the upper part may chance to fall on his
head."[599] Thus then, in the king's eyes, Fish by attacking the
priests was disturbing the foundations of religion and society. After
this royal verdict, Henry rose, took the book, locked it up in his
desk, and forbade the two merchants to reveal to any one the fact of
their having read it to him.
[599] The upper part thereof might chance to fall upon his head. Foxe,
Acts, iv, p. 658.
Shortly after the king had received this copy, on Wednesday the 2nd of
February, the feast of Candlemas, a number of persons, including the
king himself, were to take part in the procession, bearing wax tapers
in their hands. During the night this famous invective was scattered
about all the streets through which the procession had to pass. The
cardinal ordered the pamphlet to be seized, and immediately waited
upon the king. The latter put his hand under his robe, and with a
smile took out the so much dreaded work, and then, as if satisfied
with this proof of independence, he gave it up to the cardinal.
[Sidenote: SUPPLICATIONS OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY.]
While Wolsey replied to Fish by confiscation, Sir Thomas More with
greater liberality, desiring that press should reply to press,
published _The Supplications of the Souls in Purgatory_. "Suppress,"
said they, "the pious stipends paid to the monks, and then Luther's
gospel will come in, Tyndale's testament will be read, heresy will
preach, fasts will be neglected, the saints will be blasphemed, God
will be offended, virtue will be mocked of, vice will run riot, and
England will be peopled with beggars and thieves."[600] The Souls in
Purgatory then call the author of the Beggars' Supplication "a goose,
an ass, a mad dog." Thus did superstition degrade More's noble genius.
Notwithstanding the abuse of the souls in purgatory, the New Testament
was daily read more and more in England.
[600] Supplication of the Souls in Purgatory. More's Works.
CHAPTER II.
The two Authorities--Commencement of the Search--Garret at
Oxford--His flight--His Return and Imprisonment--Escapes and
takes Refuge with Dalaber--Garret and Dalaber at Prayer--The
_Magnificat_--Surprise among the Doctors--Clark's
advice--Fraternal Love at Oxford--Alarm of Dalaber--His
Arrest and Examination--He is Tortured--Garret and Twenty
Fellows imprisoned--The Cellar--Condemnation and
Humiliation.
[Sidenote: COUNCIL OF BISHOPS.]
Wolsey did not stop with Fish's book. It was not that "miserable
pamphlet" only that it was necessary to hunt down; the New Testament
in English had entered the kingdom by surprise; there was the danger.
The gospellers, who presumed to emancipate man from the priests, and
put him in absolute dependence on God, did precisely the reverse of
what Rome demands.[601] The cardinal hastened to assemble the bishops,
and these (particularly Warham and Tonstall, who had long enjoyed the
jests launched against superstition) took the matter seriously when
they were shown that the New Testament was circulating throughout
England. These priests believed with Wolsey, that the authority of the
pope and of the clergy was a dogma to which all others were
subordinate. They saw in the reform an uprising of the human mind, a
desire of thinking for themselves, of judging freely the doctrines and
institutions, which the nations had hitherto received humbly from the
hands of the priests. The new doctors justified their attempt at
enfranchisement by substituting a new authority for the old. It was
the New Testament that compromised the absolute power of Rome. It must
be seized and destroyed, said the bishops. London, Oxford, and above
all Cambridge, those three haunts of heresy, must be carefully
searched. Definitive orders were issued on Saturday, 3rd February,
1526, and the work began immediately.
[601] Actus meritorius est in potestate hominis. (Duns Scotus in
Sentent. lib. i. diss. 17.) A man is able to do a meritorious action.
[Sidenote: GARRET'S FLIGHT.]
The first visit of the inquisitors was to Honey Lane, to the house of
the curate of All Hallows. They did not find Garret; they sought after
him at Monmouth's, and throughout the city, but he could not be met
with.[602] "He is gone to Oxford to sell his detestable wares," the
inquisitors were informed, and they set off after him immediately,
determined to burn the evangelist and his books; "so burning hot,"
says an historian, "was the charity of these holy fathers."[603]
[602] He was searched for through all London. Foxe, Acts, v, p. 421.
[603] Foxe, Acts, v. p. 421.
On Tuesday, the 6th of February, Garret was quietly selling his books
at Oxford, and carefully noting down his sales in his register, when
two of his friends ran to him exclaiming, "Fly! or else you will be
taken before the cardinal, and thence ... to the Tower." The poor
curate was greatly agitated. "From whom did you learn that?"--"From
Master Cole, the clerk of the assembly, who is deep in the cardinal's
favour." Garret, who saw at once that the affair was serious, hastened
to Anthony Dalaber, who held the stock of the Holy Scriptures at
Oxford; others followed him; the news had spread rapidly, and those
who had bought the book were seized with alarm, for they knew by the
history of the Lollards what the Romish clergy could do. They took
counsel together. The brethren, "for so did we not only call one
another, but were indeed one to another," says Dalaber,[604] decided
that Garret should change his name; that Dalaber should give him a
letter for his brother, the rector of Stalbridge, in Dorsetshire, who
was in want of a curate; and that, once in this parish, he should seek
the first opportunity of crossing the sea. The rector was in truth a
"mad papist" (it is Dalaber's expression), but that did not alter
their resolution. They knew of no other resource. Anthony wrote to him
hurriedly; and, on the morning of the 7th of February, Garret left
Oxford without being observed.
[604] Ibid.
Having provided for Garret's safety, Dalaber next thought of his own.
He carefully concealed in a secret recess of his chamber, at St
Alban's Hall, Tyndale's Testament, and the works of Luther,
Œcolampadius, and others, on the word of God. Then, disgusted with the
scholastic sophisms which he heard in that college, he took with him
the New Testament and the Commentary on the gospel of St. Luke, by
Lambert of Avignon, the second edition of which had just been
published at Strasburg,[605] and went to Gloucester college, where he
intended to study the civil law, not caring to have any thing more to
do with the church.
[605] In Lucæ Evangelium Commentarii, nunc secundo recogniti et
locupletati. (Argentorati, 1525.) Commentaries on the gospel of Luke,
now for the second time revised and enriched.
[Sidenote: HIS RETURN AND IMPRISONMENT.]
During this time, poor Garret was making his way into Dorsetshire. His
conscience could not bear the idea of being, although for a short time
only, the curate of a bigoted priest,--of concealing his faith, his
desires, and even his name. He felt more wretched, although at
liberty, than he could have been in Wolsey's prisons. It is better, he
said within himself, to confess Christ before the judgment seat, than
to seem to approve of the superstitious practices I detest. He went
forward a little, then stopped--and then resumed his course. There was
a fierce struggle between his fears and his conscience. At length,
after a day and a half spent in doubt, his conscience prevailed;
unable to endure any longer the anguish that he felt, he retraced his
steps, returned to Oxford, which he entered on Friday evening, and lay
down calmly in his bed. It was barely past midnight when Wolsey's
agents, who had received information of his return, arrived, and
dragged him from his bed,[606] and delivered him up to Dr. Cottisford,
the commissary of the university. The latter locked him up in one of
his rooms, while London and Higdon, dean of Frideswide, "two arch
papists" (as the chronicler terms them), announced this important
capture to the cardinal. They thought popery was saved, because a poor
curate had been taken.
[606] Foxe, v. p.422.
[Sidenote: GARRET AND DALABER AT PRAYER.]
Dalaber, engaged in preparing his new room at Gloucester college, had
not perceived all this commotion.[607] On Saturday, at noon, having
finished his arrangements, he double-locked his door, and began to
read the Gospel according to St. Luke. All of a sudden he hears a
knock. Dalaber made no reply; it is no doubt the commissary's
officers. A louder knock was given; but he still remained silent.
Immediately after, there was a third knock, as if the door would be
beaten in. "Perhaps somebody wants me," thought Dalaber. He laid his
book aside, opened the door, and to his great surprise saw Garret,
who, with alarm in every feature, exclaimed, "I am a lost man! They
have caught me!" Dalaber, who thought his friend was with his brother
at Stalbridge, could not conceal his astonishment, and at the same
time he cast an uneasy glance on a stranger who accompanied Garret. He
was one of the college servants who had led the fugitive curate to
Dalaber's new room. As soon as this man had gone away, Garret told
Anthony everything: "Observing that Dr. Cottisford and his household
had gone to prayers, I put back the bolt of the lock with my finger
... and here I am."... "Alas! Master Garret," replied Dalaber, "the
imprudence you committed in speaking to me before that young man has
ruined us both!" At these words, Garret, who had resumed his fear of
the priests, now that his conscience was satisfied, exclaimed with a
voice interrupted by sighs and tears:[608] "For mercy's sake, help me!
Save me!" Without waiting for an answer, he threw off his frock and
hood, begged Anthony to give him a sleeved coat, and thus disguised,
he said: "I will escape into Wales, and from there, if possible, to
Germany and Luther."
[607] Ibid.
[608] With deep sighs and plenty of tears. Foxe, v. p. 422.
Garret checked himself; there was something to be done before he left.
The two friends fell on their knees and prayed together; they called
upon God to lead his servant to a secure retreat. That done, they
embraced each other, their faces bathed with tears, and unable to
utter a word.[609]
[609] That we all bewet both our faces. Ibid. 423.
Silent on the threshold of his door, Dalaber followed both with eyes
and ears his friend's retreating footsteps. Having heard him reach the
bottom of the stairs, he returned to his room, locked the door, took
out his New Testament, and placing it before him, read on his knees
the tenth chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew, breathing many a heavy
sigh: .... _Ye shall be brought before governors and kings for my sake
... but fear them not; the very hairs of your head are all numbered_.
This reading having revived his courage, Anthony, still on his knees,
prayed fervently for the fugitive and for all his brethren: "O God, by
thy Holy Spirit endue with heavenly strength this tender and new-born
little flock in Oxford.[610] Christ's heavy cross is about to be laid
on the weak shoulders of thy poor sheep. Grant that they may bear it
with godly patience and unflinching zeal!"
[610] Ibid.
Rising from his knees, Dalaber put away his book, folded up Garret's
hood and frock, placed them among his own clothes, locked his room
door, and proceeded to the Cardinal's College, (now Christ Church,) to
tell Clark and the other brethren what had happened.[611] They were in
chapel: the evening service had begun; the dean and canons, in full
costume, were chanting in the choir. Dalaber stopped at the door
listening to the majestic sounds of the organ at which Taverner
presided, and to the harmonious strains of the choristers. They were
singing the _Magnificat: My soul doth magnify the Lord.... He hath
holpen his servant Israel_. It seemed to Dalaber that they were
singing Garret's deliverance. But his voice could not join in their
song of praise. "Alas!" he exclaimed, "all my singing and music is
turned into sighing and musing."[612]
[611] Ibid.
[612] Ibid.
[Sidenote: RAGE OF THE THREE DOCTORS.]
As he listened, leaning against the entrance into the choir, Dr.
Cottisford, the university commissary, arrived with hasty step, "bare
headed, and as pale as ashes." He passed Anthony without noticing him,
and going straight to the dean appeared to announce some important and
unpleasant news. "I know well the cause of his sorrow," thought
Dalaber as he watched every gesture. The commissary had scarcely
finished his report when the dean arose, and both left the choir with
undisguised confusion. They had only reached the middle of the
anti-chapel when Dr. London ran in, puffing and chafing and stamping,
"like a hungry and greedy lion seeking his prey."[613] All three
stopped, questioned each other, and deplored their misfortune. Their
rapid and eager movements indicated the liveliest emotion; London
above all could not restrain himself. He attacked the commissary, and
blamed him for his negligence, so that at last Cottisford burst into
tears. "Deeds, not tears," said the fanatical London; and forthwith
they despatched officers and spies along every road.
[613] Foxe, v. p. 424.
Anthony having left the chapel hurried to Clark's to tell him of the
escape of his friend. "We are walking in the midst of wolves and
tigers," replied Clark; "prepare for persecution. _Prudentia
serpentina et simplicitas columbina_ (the wisdom of serpents and the
harmlessness of doves) must be our motto. O God, give us the courage
these evil times require." All in the little flock were delighted at
Garret's deliverance. Sumner and Betts, who had come in, ran off to
tell it to the other brethren in the College,[614] and Dalaber
hastened to Corpus Christi. All these pious young men felt themselves
to be soldiers in the same army, travellers in the same company,
brothers in the same family. Fraternal love nowhere shone so brightly
in the days of the Reformation as among the Christians of Great
Britain. This is a feature worthy of notice.
[614] To tell unto our other brethren; (for there were divers else in
that college.) Ibid.
Fitzjames, Udal, and Diet were met together in the rooms of the
latter, at Corpus Christi college, when Dalaber arrived. They ate
their frugal meal, with downcast eyes and broken voices, conversing of
Oxford, of England, and of the perils hanging over them.[615] Then
rising from table they fell on their knees, called upon God for aid,
and separated, Fitzjames taking Dalaber with him to St. Alban's Hall.
They were afraid that the servant of Gloucester College had betrayed
him.
[615] Considering our state and peril at hand. Ibid.
[Sidenote: DALABER'S ALARM.]
The disciples of the gospel at Oxford passed the night in great
anxiety. Garret's flight, the rage of the priests, the dangers of the
rising church, the roaring of a storm that filled the air and
re-echoed through the long cloisters--all impressed them with terror.
On Sunday the 11th of February, Dalaber, who was stirring at five in
the morning, set out for his room in Gloucester College. Finding the
gates shut, he walked up and down beneath the walls in the mud, for it
had rained all night. As he paced to and fro along the solitary street
in the obscure dawn, a thousand thoughts alarmed his mind. It was
known, he said to himself, that he had taken part in Garret's flight;
he would be arrested, and his friend's escape would be revenged on
him.[616] He was weighed down by sorrow and alarm; he sighed
heavily;[617] he imagined he saw Wolsey's commissioners demanding the
names of his accomplices, and pretending to draw up a proscription
list at his dictation; he recollected that on more than one occasion
cruel priests had extorted from the Lollards the names of their
brethren, and terrified at the possibility of such a crime, he
exclaimed; "O God, I swear to thee that I will accuse no man, ... I
will tell nothing but what is perfectly well known."[618]
[616] My musing head being full of forecasting cares. Foxe, v. p. 423.
[617] My sorrowful heart flowing with doleful sighs. Ibid.
[618] I fully determined in my conscience before God that I would
accuse no man. Ibid.
At last, after an hour of anguish, he was able to enter the college.
He hastened in, but when he tried to open his door, he found that the
lock had been picked. The door gave way to a strong push, and what a
sight met his eyes! his bedstead overturned, the blankets scattered on
the floor, his clothes all confusion in his wardrobe, his study broken
into and left open. He doubted not that Garret's dress had betrayed
him; and he was gazing at this sad spectacle in alarm, when a monk who
occupied the adjoining rooms came and told him what had taken place:
"The commissary and two proctors, armed with swords and bills, broke
open your door in the middle of the night. They pierced your bed-straw
through and through to make sure Garret was not hidden there;[619]
they carefully searched every nook and corner, but were not able to
discover any traces of the fugitive." At these words Dalaber breathed
again ... but the monk had not ended. "I have orders," he added, "to
send you to the prior." Anthony Dunstan, the prior, was a fanatical
and avaricious monk; and the confusion into which this message threw
Dalaber was so great, that he went just as he was, all bespattered
with mud, to the rooms of his superior.
[619] With bills and swords thrusted through my bed-straw. Ibid. p.
425
[Sidenote: DALABER INTERROGATED.]
The prior, who was standing with his face towards the door, looked at
Dalaber from head to foot as he came in. "Where did you pass the
night?" he asked. "At St. Alban's Hall with Fitzjames." The prior with
a gesture of incredulity continued: "Was not Master Garret with you
yesterday?"--"Yes."--"Where is he now?"--"I do not know." During this
examination, the prior had remarked a large double gilt silver ring on
Anthony's finger, with the initials A. D.[620] "Show me that," said
the prior. Dalaber gave him the ring, and the prior believing it to be
of solid gold, put it on his own finger, adding with a cunning leer:
"This ring is mine: it bears my name. A is for _Anthony_, and D for
_Dunstan_." "Would to God," thought Dalaber, "that I were as well
delivered from his company, as I am sure of being delivered of my
ring."
[620] Then had he spied on my fore-finger a big ring of silver, very
well double-gilted. Foxe. v. p. 425.
At this moment the chief beadle, with two or three of the commissary's
men, entered and conducted Dalaber to the chapel of Lincoln college,
where three ill-omened figures were standing beside the altar: they
were Cottisford, London, and Higdon. "Where is Garret?" asked London;
and pointing to his disordered dress, he continued: "Your shoes and
garments covered with mud prove that you have been out all night with
him. If you do not say where you have taken him, you will be sent to
the Tower."--"Yes," added Higdon, "to _Little-ease_ [one of the most
horrible dungeons in the prison,] and you will be put to the torture,
do you hear?" Then the three doctors spent two hours attempting to
shake the young man by flattering promises and frightful threats; but
all was useless. The commissary then gave a sign, the officers stepped
forward, and the judges ascended a narrow staircase leading to a large
room situated above the commissary's chamber. Here Dalaber was
deprived of his purse and girdle, and his legs were placed in the
stocks, so that his feet were almost as high as his head.[621] When
that was done, the three doctors devoutly went to mass.
[621] Ibid. p. 426.
Poor Anthony, left alone in this frightful position, recollected the
warning Clark had given him two years before. He groaned heavily and
cried to God:[622] "O Father! that my suffering may be for thy glory,
and for the consolation of my brethren! Happen what may, I will never
accuse one of them." After this noble protest, Anthony felt an
increase of peace in his heart; but a new sorrow was reserved for him.
[622] Ibid. p. 427.
[Sidenote: GARRET AND OTHERS IMPRISONED.]
Garret, who had directed his course westwards, with the intention of
going to Wales, had been caught at Hinksey, a short distance from
Oxford. He was brought back, and thrown into the dungeon in which
Dalaber had been placed after the torture. Their gloomy presentiments
were to be more than fulfilled.
In fact Wolsey was deeply irritated at seeing the college [Christ
Church], which he had intended should be "the most glorious in the
world," made the haunt of heresy, and the young men, whom he had so
carefully chosen, become distributors of the New Testament. By
favouring literature, he had had in view the triumph of the clergy,
and literature had on the contrary served to the triumph of the
Gospel. He issued his orders without delay, and the university was
filled with terror. John Clark, John Fryth, Henry Sumner, William
Betts, Richard Taverner, Richard Cox, Michael Drumm, Godfrey Harman,
Thomas Lawney, Radley, and others besides of Cardinal's College; Udal,
Diet, and others of Corpus Christi; Eden and several of his friends of
Magdalene; Goodman, William Bayley, Robert Ferrar, John Salisbury of
Gloucester, Barnard, and St. Mary's Colleges; were seized and thrown
into prison. Wolsey had promised them glory; he gave them a dungeon,
hoping in this manner to save the power of the priests, and to repress
that awakening of truth and liberty which was spreading from the
continent to England.
Under Cardinal's College there was a deep cellar sunk in the earth, in
which the butler kept his salt fish. Into this hole these young men,
the choice of England, were thrust. The dampness of this cave, the
corrupted air they breathed, the horrible smell given out by the fish,
seriously affected the prisoners, already weakened by study. Their
hearts were bursting with groans, their faith was shaken, and the most
mournful scenes followed each other in this foul dungeon. The wretched
captives gazed on one another, wept, and prayed. This trial was
destined to be a salutary one to them: "Alas!" said Fryth on a
subsequent occasion, "I see that besides the word of God, there is
indeed a second purgatory ... but it is not that invented by Rome; it
is the cross of tribulation to which God has nailed us."[623]
[623] God naileth us to the cross to heal our infirmities. Tyndale and
Fryth's Works, iii. p. 91. (ed. Russell.)
[Sidenote: CONDEMNATION AND HUMILIATION.]
At last the prisoners were taken out one by one and brought before
their judges; two only were released. The first was Betts, afterwards
chaplain to Anne Boleyn: they had not been able to find any
prohibited books in his room, and he pleaded his cause with great
talent. The other was Taverner; he had hidden Clark's books under his
school-room floor, where they had been discovered; but his love for
the arts saved him: "Pshaw! he is only a musician," said the cardinal.
All the rest were condemned. A great fire was kindled at the top of
the market-place;[624] a long procession was marshalled, and these
unfortunate men were led out, each bearing a fagot. When they came
near the fire, they were compelled to throw into it the heretical
books that had been found in their rooms, after which they were taken
back to their noisome prison. There seemed to be a barbarous pleasure
in treating these young and generous men so vilely. In other countries
also, Rome was preparing to stifle in the flames the noblest geniuses
of France, Spain, and Italy. Such was the reception letters and the
Gospel met with from popery in the sixteenth century.
[624] There was made a great fire upon the top of Carfax. Foxe, v. p.
428.
Every plant of God's must be beaten by the wind, even at the risk of
its being uprooted; if it receives only the gentle rays of the sun,
there is reason to fear that it will dry up and wither before it
produces fruit. _Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die,
it abideth alone._ There was to arise one day a real church in
England, for the persecution had begun.
We have to contemplate still further trials.
CHAPTER III.
Persecution at Cambridge--Barnes arrested--A grand
Search--Barnes at Wolsey's Palace--Interrogated by the
Cardinal--Conversation between Wolsey and Barnes--Barnes
threatened with the Stake--His Fall and public
Penance--Richard Bayfield--His Faith and
Imprisonment--Visits Cambridge--Joins Tyndale--The
Confessors in the Cellar at Oxford--Four of them die--The
rest liberated.
[Sidenote: SUPREMACY OF SELF IN ROMANISM.]
Cambridge, which had produced Latimer, Bilney, Stafford, and Barnes,
had at first appeared to occupy the front rank in the English
reformation. Oxford by receiving the crown of persecution seemed now
to have outstripped the sister university. And yet Cambridge was to
have its share of suffering. The investigation had begun at Oxford on
Monday the 5th of February, and on the very same day two of Wolsey's
creatures, Dr. Capon, one of his chaplains, and Gibson, a
sergeant-at-arms, notorious for his arrogance, left London for
Cambridge. Submission, was the pass-word of popery. "Yes, submission,"
was responded from every part of Christendom by men of sincere piety
and profound understanding; "submission to the legitimate authority
against which Roman-catholicism has rebelled." According to their
views the traditionalism and pelagianism of the Romish church had set
up the supremacy of fallen reason in opposition to the divine
supremacy of the word and of grace. The external and apparent
sacrifice of self which Roman-catholicism imposes,--obedience to a
confessor or to the pope, arbitrary penance, ascetic practices, and
celibacy,--only served to create, and so to strengthen and perpetuate,
a delusion as to the egotistic preservation of a sinful personality.
When the Reformation proclaimed liberty, so far as regarded ordinances
of human invention, it was with the view of bringing man's heart and
life into subjection to their real Sovereign. The reign of God was
commencing; that of the priests must needs come to an end. No man can
serve two masters. Such were the important truths which gradually
dawned upon the world, and which it became necessary to extinguish
without delay.
[Sidenote: SEARCH FOR THE HERETICAL BOOKS.]
On the day after their arrival in Cambridge, on Tuesday the 6th of
February, Capon and Gibson went to the convocation house, where
several of the doctors were talking together. Their appearance caused
some anxiety among the spectators, who looked upon the strangers with
distrust. On a sudden Gibson moved forward, put his hand on Barnes,
and arrested him in the presence of his friends.[625] The latter were
frightened, and this was what the sergeant wanted. "What!" said they,
"the prior of the Augustines, the restorer of letters in Cambridge,
arrested by a sergeant!" This was not all. Wolsey's agents were to
seize the books come from Germany, and their owners; Bilney, Latimer,
Stafford, Arthur, and their friends, were all to be imprisoned, for
they possessed the New Testament. Thirty members of the university
were pointed out as suspected; and some miserable wretches, who had
been bribed by the inquisitors, offered to show the place in every
room where the prohibited books were hidden. But while the necessary
preparations were making for this search, Bilney, Latimer, and their
colleagues, being warned in time, got the books removed; they were
taken away not only by the doors but by the windows, even by the
roofs, and anxious inquiry was made for sure places in which they
could be concealed.
[625] Suddenly arrested Barnes openly in the convocation house to make
all others afraid. Foxe, v. p. 416.
This work was hardly ended, when the vice-chancellor of the
university, the sergeant-at-arms, Wolsey's chaplain, the proctors, and
the informers began their rounds. They opened the first room, entered,
searched, and found nothing. They passed on to the second, there was
nothing. The sergeant was astonished, and grew angry. On reaching the
third room, he ran directly to the place that had been pointed
out,--still there was nothing. The same thing occurred every where;
never was inquisitor more mortified. He dared not lay hands on the
persons of the evangelical doctors; his orders bore that he was to
seize the books and _their owners_. But as no books were found, there
could be no prisoners. Luckily there was one man (the prior of the
Augustines) against whom there were particular charges. The sergeant
promised to compensate himself at Barnes's expense for his useless
labours.
The next day Gibson and Capon set out for London with Barnes. During
this mournful journey the prior, in great agitation, at one time
determined to brave all England, and at another trembled like a leaf.
At last their journey was ended; the chaplain left his prisoner at
Parnell's house, close by the stocks.[626] Three students (Coverdale,
Goodwin, and Field) had followed their master to cheer him with their
tender affection.
[626] Foxe, v. p. 416.
[Sidenote: CONVERSATION BETWEEN WOLSEY AND BARNES.]
On Thursday (8th February) the sergeant conducted Barnes to the
cardinal's palace at Westminster; the wretched prior, whose enthusiasm
had given way to objection, waited all day before he could be
admitted. What a day! Will no one come to his assistance? Doctor
Gardiner, Wolsey's secretary, and Fox, his steward, both old friends
of Barnes, passed through the gallery in the evening, and went up to
the prisoner, who begged them to procure him an audience with the
cardinal. When night had come, these officers introduced the prior
into the room where their master was sitting, and Barnes, as was
customary, fell on his knees before him. "Is this the Doctor Barnes
who is accused of heresy?" asked Wolsey, in a haughty tone, of Fox and
Gardiner. They replied in the affirmative. The cardinal then turning
to Barnes, who was still kneeling, said to him ironically, and not
without reason: "What, master doctor, had you not sufficient scope in
the Scriptures to teach the people; but my golden shoes, my poleaxes,
my pillars, my golden cushions, my crosses, did so sore offend you,
that you must make us a laughing-stock, _ridiculum caput_, amongst the
people? We were jollily that day laughed to scorn. Verily it was a
sermon more fit to be preached on a stage than in a pulpit; for at the
last you said I wore a pair of _red_ gloves--I should say _bloody_
gloves (quoth you)....Eh! what think you, master doctor?" Barnes,
wishing to elude these embarrassing questions, answered vaguely: "I
spoke nothing but the truth out of the Scriptures, according to my
conscience and according to the old doctors." He then presented to the
cardinal a statement of his teaching.
Wolsey received the papers with a smile: "Oh, ho!" said he as he
counted the six sheets, "I perceive you intend to stand to your
articles and to show your learning." "With the grace of God," said
Barnes. Wolsey then began to read them, and stopped at the sixth
article, which ran thus: "I will never believe that one man may, by
the law of God, be bishop of two or three cities, yea, of a whole
country, for it is contrary to St. Paul, who saith: _I have left thee
behind, to set in every city a bishop_." Barnes did not quote
correctly, for the apostle says: "_to ordain elders in every
city_."[627] Wolsey was displeased at this thesis: "Ah! this touches
me," he said: "Do you think it wrong (seeing the ordinance of the
church) that one bishop should have so many cities underneath him?" "I
know of no ordinance of the church," Barnes replied, "as concerning
this thing, but Paul's saying only."
[627] Καὶ καταστήσης κατὰ πόλιν
πρεσβυτέρους. Titus, i, 5.
Although this controversy interested the cardinal, the personal attack
of which he had to complain touched him more keenly. "Good," said
Wolsey; and then with a condescension hardly to be expected from so
proud a man, he deigned almost to justify himself. "You charge me with
displaying a royal pomp; but do you not understand that, being called
to represent his majesty, I must strive by these means to strike
terror into the wicked?"--"It is not your pomp or your poleaxes,"
Barnes courageously answered, "that will save the king's person....
God will save him, who said: _Per me reges regnant_." Barnes, instead
of profiting by the cardinal's kindness to present an humble
justification, as Dean Colet had formerly done to Henry VIII, dared
preach him a second sermon to his face. Wolsey felt the colour mount
to his cheeks. "Well, gentlemen," said he, turning to Fox and
Gardiner, "you hear him! Is this the wise and learned man of whom you
spoke to me?"
[Sidenote: BARNES FALLS.]
At these words both steward and secretary fell on their knees, saying:
"My lord, pardon him for mercy's sake."--"Can you find ten or even six
doctors of divinity willing to swear that you are free from heresy?"
asked Wolsey. Barnes offered twenty honest men, quite as learned as
himself, or even more so. "I must have doctors in divinity, men as old
as yourself."--"That is impossible," said the prior. "In that case you
must be burnt," continued the cardinal. "Let him be taken to the
Tower." Gardiner and Fox offering to become his sureties, Wolsey
permitted him to pass the night at Parnell's.
"It is no time to think of sleeping," said Barnes as he entered the
house, "we must write." Those harsh and terrible words, _you must be
burnt_, resounded continually in his ears. He dictated all night to
his three young friends a defence of his articles.
The next day he was taken before the chapter, at which Clarke, bishop
of Bath, Standish, and other doctors were present. His judges laid
before him a long statement, and said to him: "Promise to read this
paper in public, without omitting or adding a single word." It was
then read to him. "I would die first," was his reply. "Will you abjure
or be burnt alive?" said his judges; "take your choice." The
alternative was dreadful. Poor Barnes, a prey to the deepest agony,
shrank at the thought of the stake; then, suddenly his courage
revived, and he exclaimed: "I had rather be burnt than abjure."
Gardiner and Fox did all they could to persuade him. "Listen to
reason," said they craftily: "your articles are true; that is not the
question. We want to know whether by your death you will let error
triumph, or whether you would rather remain to defend the truth, when
better days may come."
They entreated him; they put forward the most plausible motives; from
time to time they uttered the terrible words, _burnt alive!_ His blood
froze in his veins; he knew not what he said or did ... they placed a
paper before him--they put a pen in his hand--his head was bewildered,
he signed his name with a deep sigh. This unhappy man was destined at
a later period to be a faithful martyr of Jesus Christ; but he had not
yet learnt to "resist even unto blood." Barnes had fallen.
[Sidenote: HIS PUBLIC PENANCE.]
On the following morning (Sunday, 11th February) a solemn spectacle
was preparing at St. Paul's. Before daybreak, all were astir in the
prison of the poor prior; and at eight o'clock, the knight-marshal
with his tipstaves, and the warden of the Fleet prison, with his
billmen, conducted Barnes to St. Paul's, along with four of the Hanse
merchants who had first brought to London the New Testament of Jesus
Christ in English. The fifth of these pious merchants held an immense
taper in his hands. A persevering search had discovered that it was
these men to whom England was indebted for the so much dreaded book;
their warehouses were surrounded and their persons arrested. On the
top of St. Paul's steps was a platform, and on the platform a throne,
and on the throne the cardinal, dressed in scarlet--like a "bloody
antichrist," says the chronicler. On his head glittered the hat of
which Barnes had spoken so ill; around him were thirty-six bishops,
abbots, priors, and all his doctors, dressed in damask and satin; the
vast cathedral was full. The bishop of Rochester having gone into a
pulpit placed at the top of the steps, Barnes and the merchants, each
bearing a faggot, were compelled to kneel and listen to a sermon
intended to cure these poor creatures of that taste for insurrection
against popery which was beginning to spread in every quarter. The
sermon ended, the cardinal mounted his mule, took his station under a
magnificent canopy, and rode off. After this Barnes and his five
companions walked three times round a fire, lighted before the cross
at the north gate of the cathedral. The dejected prior, with downcast
head, dragged himself along, rather than walked. After the third turn,
the prisoners threw their faggots into the flames; some "heretical"
books also were flung in; and the bishop of Rochester having given
absolution to the six penitents, they were led back to prison to be
kept there during the lord cardinal's pleasure. Barnes could not weep
now; the thought of his relapse, and of the effects so guilty an
example might produce, had deprived him of all moral energy. In the
month of August, he was led out of prison and confined in the
Augustine convent.
[Sidenote: THE MONK OF BURY.]
Barnes was not the only man at Cambridge upon whom the blow had
fallen. Since the year 1520, a monk named Richard Bayfield had been an
inmate of the abbey of Bury St. Edmunds. His affability delighted
every traveller. One day, when engaged as chamberlain in receiving
Barnes, who had come to visit Doctor Ruffam, his fellow-student at
Louvain, two men entered the convent. They were pious persons, and of
great consideration in London, where they carried on the occupation of
brick-making, and had risen to be wardens of their guild. Their names
were Maxwell and Stacy, men "well grafted in the doctrine of Christ,"
says the historian, who had led many to the Saviour by their
conversation and exemplary life. Being accustomed to travel once
a-year through the counties to visit their brethren, and extend a
knowledge of the Gospel, they used to lodge, according to the usages
of the time, in the convents and abbeys. A conversation soon arose
between Barnes, Stacy, and Maxwell, which struck the lay-brother.
Barnes, who had observed his attention, gave him, as he was leaving
the convent, a New Testament in Latin, and the two brick-makers added
a New Testament in English, with _The Wicked Mammon_ and _The
Obedience of a Christian Man_. The lay-brother ran and hid the books
in his cell, and for two years read them constantly. At last he was
discovered, and reprimanded; but he boldly confessed his faith. Upon
this the monks threw him into prison, set him in the stocks, put a gag
in his mouth, and cruelly whipped him, to prevent his speaking of
grace.[628] The unhappy Bayfield remained nine months in this
condition.
[628] Foxe, iv. p. 681.
When Barnes repeated his visit to Bury at a later period, he did not
find the amiable chamberlain at the gates of the abbey. Upon inquiry
he learnt his condition, and immediately took steps to procure his
deliverance. Dr. Ruffam came to his aid: "Give him to me," said
Barnes, "I will take him to Cambridge." The prior of the Augustines
was at that time held in high esteem; his request was granted, in the
hope that he would lead back Bayfield to the doctrines of the church.
But the very reverse took place: intercourse with the Cambridge
brethren strengthened the young monk's faith. On a sudden his
happiness vanished. Barnes, his friend and benefactor, was carried to
London, and the monks of Bury St. Edmunds, alarmed at the noise this
affair created, summoned him to return to the abbey. But Bayfield,
resolving to submit to their yoke no longer, went to London, and lay
concealed at Maxwell and Stacy's. One day, having left his
hiding-place, he was crossing Lombard Street, when he met a priest
named Pierson and two other religious of his order, with whom he
entered into a conversation which greatly scandalized them. "You must
depart forthwith," said Maxwell and Stacy to him on his return.
Bayfield received a small sum of money from them, went on board a
ship, and as soon as he reached the continent, hastened to find
Tyndale. During this time scenes of a very different nature from those
which had taken place at Cambridge, but not less heart-rending, were
passing at Oxford.
[Sidenote: THE CONFESSORS IN THE CELLAR AT OXFORD.]
The storm of persecution was raging there with more violence than at
Cambridge. Clark and the other confessors of the name of Christ were
still confined in their under-ground prison. The air they breathed,
the food they took (and they ate nothing but salt fish[629]), the
burning thirst this created, the thoughts by which they were agitated,
all together combined to crush these noble-hearted men. Their bodies
wasted day by day; they wandered like spectres up and down their
gloomy cellar. Those animated discussions in which the deep questions
then convulsing Christendom were so eloquently debated were at an end;
they were like shadow meeting shadow. Their hollow eyes cast a vague
and haggard glance on one another, and after gazing for a moment, they
passed on without speaking. Clark, Sumner, Bayley, and Goodman,
consumed by fever, feebly crawled along, leaning against their dungeon
walls. The first, who was also the eldest, could not walk without the
support of one of his fellow-prisoners. Soon he was quite unable to
move, and lay stretched upon the damp floor. The brethren gathered
round him, sought to discover in his features whether death was not
about to cut short the days of him who had brought many of them to the
knowledge of Christ. They repeated to him slowly the words of
Scripture, and then knelt down by his side and uttered a fervent
prayer.
[629] Foxe, v, p. 5.
Clark, feeling his end draw near, asked for the communion. The jailors
conveyed his request to their master; the noise of the bolts was soon
heard, and a turnkey, stepping into the midst of the disconsolate
band, pronounced a cruel _no!_[630] On hearing this, Clark looked
towards heaven, and exclaimed with a father of the church: _Crede et
manducasti_, Believe and thou hast eaten.[631] He was lost in thought:
he contemplated the crucified Son of God; by faith he ate and drank
the flesh and blood of Christ, and experienced in his inner life the
strengthening action of the Redeemer. Men might refuse him the host,
but Jesus had given him his body; and from that hour he felt
strengthened by a living union with the King of heaven.
[630] Not be suffered to receive the communion, being in prison. Ibid.
p. 428.
[631] Ibid. Habe fidem et tecum est quem non vides, (Have faith, and
he whom you do not see is with you,) says Augustine in another place.
See Serm. 235, 272. Tract. 26, Evang. Joh.
[Sidenote: DEATH OF FOUR PRISONERS.]
Not alone did Clark descend into the shadowy valley: Sumner, Bayley,
and Goodman were sinking rapidly. Death, the gloomy inhabitant of this
foul prison, had taken possession of these four friends.[632] Their
brethren addressed fresh solicitations to the cardinal, at that time
closely occupied in negotiations with France, Rome, and Venice.[633]
He found means, however, to give a moment to the Oxford martyrs; and
just as these Christians were praying over their four dying
companions, the commissioner came and informed them, that "his
lordship, of his great goodness, permitted the sick persons to be
removed to their own chambers." Litters were brought, on which the
dying men were placed and carried to their rooms;[634] the doors were
closed again upon those whose lives this frightful dungeon had not yet
attacked.
[632] Taking their death in the same prison. Foxe, v, p. 5.
[633] State Papers, i, p. 169.
[634] Foxe, v, p. 5.
It was the middle of August. The wretched men who had passed six
months in the cellar were transported in vain to their chambers and
their beds; several members of the university ineffectually tried by
their cares and their tender charity to recall them to life. It was
too late. The severities of popery had killed these noble witnesses.
The approach of death soon betrayed itself; their blood grew cold,
their limbs stiff, and their bedimmed eyes sought only Jesus Christ,
their everlasting hope. Clark, Sumner, and Bayley died in the same
week. Goodman followed close upon them.[635]
[635] Ibid.
This unexpected catastrophe softened Wolsey. He was cruel only as far
as his interest and the safety of the church required. He feared that
the death of so many young men would raise public opinion against him,
or that these catastrophes would damage his college; perhaps even some
sentiment of humanity may have touched his heart. "Set the rest at
liberty," he wrote to his agents, "but upon condition that they do not
go above ten miles from Oxford." The university beheld these young men
issue from their living tomb pale, wasted, weak, and with faltering
steps. At that time they were not men of mark; it was their youth that
touched the spectators' hearts; but in after-years they all occupied
an important place in the church. They were Cox, who became Bishop of
Ely, and tutor to Edward the Prince Royal; Drumm, who under Cranmer
became one of the six preachers at Canterbury; Udal, afterwards master
of Westminster and Eton schools; Salisbury, dean of Norwich, and then
bishop of Sodor and Man, who in all his wealth and greatness often
recalled his frightful prison at Oxford as a title to glory; Ferrar,
afterwards Cranmer's chaplain, bishop of St. David's, and a martyr
even unto death, after an interval of thirty years; Fryth, Tyndale's
friend, to whom this deliverance proved only a delay; and several
others. When they came forth from their terrible dungeon, their
friends ran up to them, supported their faltering steps, and embraced
them amidst floods of tears. Fryth quitted the university not long
after and went to Flanders.[636] Thus was the tempest stayed which had
so fearfully ravaged Oxford. But the calm was of no long duration; an
unexpected circumstance became perilous to the cause of the
Reformation.
[636] Tyndale and Fryth's Works, iii. p. 75 (edit. Russel).
CHAPTER IV.
Luther's Letter to the King--Henry's Anger--His
Reply--Luther's Resolution--Persecutions--Barnes
escapes--Proclamations against the New Testament--W. Roy to
Caiaphas--Third Edition of the New Testament--The Triumph of
Law and Liberty--Hacket attacks the Printer--Hacket's
Complaints--A Seizure--The Year 1526 in England.
[Sidenote: LUTHER'S LETTER TO THE KING.]
Henry was still under the impression of the famous _Supplication of
the Beggars_, when Luther's interference increased his anger. The
letter which, at the advice of Christiern, king of Denmark, this
reformer had written to him in September 1525, had miscarried. The
Wittemberg doctor hearing nothing of it, had boldly printed it, and
sent a copy to the king. "I am informed," said Luther, "that your
Majesty is beginning to favour the Gospel,[637] and to be disgusted
with the perverse race that fights against it in your noble
kingdom.... It is true that, according to Scripture, _the kings of the
earth take counsel together against the Lord_, and we cannot,
consequently, expect to see them favourable to the truth. How
fervently do I wish that this miracle may be accomplished in the
person of your Majesty."[638]
[637] Majestatem tuam cæpisse favere Evangelio. Cochlæus, p. 136.
[638] Huic miraculo in Majestate tua quam opto ex totis medullis.
Ibid. p. 127.
[Sidenote: HENRY'S REPLY.]
We may imagine Henry's wrath as he read this letter. "What!" said he,
"does this apostate monk dare print a letter addressed to us, without
having even sent it, or at the least without knowing if we have ever
received it?... And as if that were not enough, he insinuates that we
are among his partisans.... He wins over also one or two wretches,
born in our kingdom, and engages them to translate the New Testament
into English, adding thereto certain prefaces and poisonous glosses."
Thus spoke Henry. The idea that his name should be associated with
that of the Wittemberg monk called all the blood into his face. He
will reply right royally to such unblushing impudence. He summoned
Wolsey forthwith. "Here!" said he, pointing to a passage concerning
the prelate, "here! read what is said of you!" And then he read aloud:
"_Illud monstrum et publicum odium Dei et hominum, cardinalis
Eboracensis, pestis illa regni tui_. You see, my lord, you are a
_monster_, an object of _hatred_ both to God and man, the _scourge_ of
my kingdom!" The king had hitherto allowed the bishops to do as they
pleased, and observed a sort of neutrality. He now determined to lay
it aside and begin a crusade against the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but
he must first answer this impertinent letter. He consulted Sir Thomas
More, shut himself in his closet, and dictated to his secretary a
reply to the reformer: "You are ashamed of the book you have written
against me," he said, "I would counsel you to be ashamed of all that
you have written. They are full of disgusting errors and frantic
heresies; and are supported by the most audacious obstinacy. Your
venemous pen mocks the church, insults the fathers, abuses the saints,
despises the apostles, dishonours the holy virgin, and blasphemes God,
by making him the author of evil.... And after all that, you claim to
be an author whose like does not exist in the world!"[639]
[639] Tantus autor haberi postulas, quantus nec hodie quisquam sit.
Cochlæus, p. 127.
"You offer to publish a book in my praise.... I thank you!... You will
praise me most by abusing me; you will dishonour me beyond measure if
you praise me. I say with Seneca: _Tam turpe tibi sit laudari a
turpibus, quam si lauderis ob turpia_."[640]
[640] Let it be as disgraceful to you to be praised by the vile, as if
you were praised for vile deeds.
This letter, written by the _king of the English to the king of the
heretics_,[641] was immediately circulated throughout England bound up
with Luther's epistle. Henry, by publishing it, put his subjects on
their guard against the _unfaithful_ translations of the New
Testament, which were besides about to be burnt everywhere. "The
grapes seem beautiful," he said, "but beware how you wet your lips
with the wine made from them, for the adversary hath mingled poison
with it."
[641] Rex Anglorum Regi hæreticorum scribit. Strype, Mem. i. p. 91.
The title of the pamphlet was _Litterarum quibus invictus Pr. Henricus
VIII. etc. etc. respondit ad quandam Epistolam M. Lutheri ad se
missam_.
[Sidenote: LUTHER'S FIRMNESS.]
Luther, agitated by this rude lesson, tried to excuse himself. "I said
to myself, _There are twelve hours in the day_. Who knows? perhaps I
may find one lucky hour to gain the King of England. I therefore laid
my humble epistle at his feet; but alas! the swine have torn it. I am
willing to be silent ... but as regards my doctrine, I cannot impose
silence on it. It must cry aloud, it must bite. If any king imagines
he can make me retract my faith, he is a dreamer. So long as one drop
of blood remains in my body, I shall say no. Emperors, kings, the
devil, and even the whole universe, cannot frighten me when faith is
concerned. I claim to be proud, very proud, exceedingly proud. If my
doctrine had no other enemies than the king of England, Duke George,
the pope and their allies, all these soap-bubbles ... one little
prayer would long ago have worsted them all. Where are Pilate, Herod,
and Caiaphas now? Where are Nero, Domitian, and Maximilian? Where are
Arius, Pelagius, and Manes?--Where are they?... Where all our scribes
and all our tyrants will soon be.--But Christ? Christ is the same
always.
"For a thousand years the Holy Scriptures have not shone in the world
with so much brightness as now.[642] I wait in peace for my last hour;
I have done what I could. O princes, my hands are clean from your
blood; it will fall on your own heads."
[642] Als in tausend Jahren nicht gewesen ist. Luth. Opp. xix. p. 501.
Bowing before the supreme royalty of Jesus Christ, Luther spoke thus
boldly to King Henry, who contested the rights of the word of God.
A letter written against the reformer was not enough for the bishops.
Profiting by the wound Luther had inflicted on Henry's self-esteem,
they urged him to put down this revolt of the human understanding,
which threatened (as they averred) both the popedom and the monarchy.
They commenced the persecution. Latimer was summoned before Wolsey,
but his learning and presence of mind procured his dismissal. Bilney
also, who had been ordered to London, received an injunction not to
preach _Luther's doctrines_. "I will not preach Luther's doctrines, if
there are any peculiar to him," he said; "but I can and I must preach
the doctrine of Jesus Christ, although Luther should preach it too."
And finally Garret, led into the presence of his judges, was seized
with terror, and fell before the cruel threats of the bishop. When
restored to liberty, he fled from place to place,[643] endeavouring to
hide his sorrow, and to escape from the despotism of the priests,
awaiting the moment when he should give his life for Jesus Christ.
[643] Foxe, v. p. 428.
[Sidenote: BARNES ESCAPES.]
The adversaries of the Reformation were not yet satisfied. The New
Testament continued to circulate, and depots were formed in several
convents. Barnes, a prisoner in the Augustine monastery in London, had
regained his courage, and loved his Bible more and more. One day about
the end of September, as three or four friends were reading in his
chamber, two simple peasants, John Tyball and Thomas Hilles, natives
of Bumpstead in Essex, came in. "How did you come to a knowledge of
the truth?" asked Barnes. They drew from their pockets some old
volumes containing the Gospels, and a few of the Epistles in English.
Barnes returned them with a smile. "They are nothing," he told them,
"in comparison with the new edition of the New Testament,"[644] a copy
of which the two peasants bought for three shillings and two-pence.
"Hide it carefully," said Barnes. When this came to the ears of the
clergy, Barnes was removed to Northampton to be burnt at the stake;
but he managed to escape; his friends reported that he was drowned;
and while strict search was making for him during a whole week along
the sea-coast, he secretly went on board a ship, and was carried to
Germany. "The cardinal will catch him even now," said the bishop of
London, "whatever amount of money it may cost him." When Barnes was
told of this, he remarked: "I am a poor simple wretch, not worth the
tenth penny they will give for me. Besides, if they burn me, what will
they gain by it?... The sun and the moon, fire and water, the stars
and the elements--yea, and also stones shall defend this cause against
them, _rather than the truth should perish_." Faith had returned to
Barnes's feeble heart.
[644] Which books he did little regard, and made a twit of it.
Tyball's Confession in Bible Annals. i. p. 184.
His escape added fuel to the wrath of the clergy. They proclaimed,
throughout the length and breadth of England, that the Holy Scriptures
contained an _infectious poison_,[645] and ordered a general search
after the word of God. On the 24th of October, 1526, the bishop of
London enjoined on his archdeacons to seize all translations of the
New Testament in English with or without glosses; and, a few days
later, the archbishop of Canterbury issued a mandate against all the
books which should contain "any particle of the New Testament."[646]
The primate remembered that a spark was sufficient to kindle a large
fire.
[645] Libri pestiferum virus in se continentes, in promiscuam
provinciæ Cant. multitudinem sunt dispersi. (Wilkins, Concilia, iii.
p. 706.) Books containing an infectious poison are scattered in all
directions through the diocese of Canterbury.
[646] Vel aliquam ejus particulam. Ibid.
[Sidenote: ROY'S SATIRE.]
On hearing of this order, William Roy, a sarcastic writer, published
a violent satire, in which figured _Judas_ (Standish), _Pilate_
(Wolsey), and _Caiaphas_ (Tonstall). The author exclaimed with energy:
God, of his goodness, grudged not to die,
Man to deliver from deadly damnation;
Whose will is, that we should know perfectly
What he here hath done for our salvation.
O cruel Caiaphas! full of crafty conspiration,
How durst thou give them false judgment
To burn God's word--the Holy Testament.[647]
[647] Satire of W. Roy, printed in the Harl. Misc., vol. ix, p. 77,
(ed. 1809).
The efforts of Caiaphas and his colleagues were indeed useless: the
priests were undertaking a work beyond their strength. If by some
terrible revolution all social forms should be destroyed in the world,
the living church of the elect, a divine institution in the midst of
human institutions, would still exist by the power of God, like a rock
in the midst of the tempest, and would transmit to future generations
the seeds of Christian life and civilization. It is the same with the
word, the creative principle of the church. It cannot perish here
below. The priests of England had something to learn on this matter.
While the agents of the clergy were carrying out the archiepiscopal
mandate, and a merciless search was making everywhere for the New
Testaments from Worms, a new edition was discovered, fresh from the
press, of a smaller and more portable, and consequently more dangerous
size. It was printed by Christopher Eyndhoven of Antwerp, who had
consigned it to his correspondents in London. The annoyance of the
priests was extreme, and Hackett, the agent of Henry VIII in the Low
Countries, immediately received orders to get this man punished. "We
cannot deliver judgment without inquiry into the matter," said the
lords of Antwerp; "we will therefore have the book translated into
Flemish." "God forbid," said Hackett in alarm, "What! would you also
on your side of the ocean translate this book into the language of the
people?" "Well then," said one of the judges, less conscientious than
his colleagues, "let the king of England send us a copy of each of the
books he has burnt, and we will burn them likewise." Hackett wrote to
Wolsey for them, and as soon as they arrived the court met again.
Eyndhoven's counsel called upon the prosecutor to point out the
_heresies_ contained in the volume. The margrave (an officer of the
imperial government) shrank from the task, and said to Hackett, "I
give up the business!" The charge against Eyndhoven was dismissed.
[Sidenote: LAW AND LIBERTY.]
Thus did the Reformation awaken in Europe the slumbering spirit of law
and liberty. By enfranchising thought from the yoke of popery, it
prepared the way for other enfranchisements; and by restoring the
authority of the word of God, it brought back the reign of the law
among nations long the prey of turbulent passions and arbitrary power.
Then, as at all times, religious society forestalled civil society,
and gave it those two great principles of order and liberty, which
popery compromises or annuls. It was not in vain that the magistrates
of a Flemish city, enlightened by the first dawn of the Reformation,
set so noble an example; the English, who were very numerous in the
Hanse Towns, thus learnt once more the value of that civil and
religious liberty which is the time-honoured right of England, and of
which they were in after-years to give other nations the so much
needed lessons.
"Well then," said Hackett, who was annoyed at their setting the law
above his master's will, "I will go and buy all these books, and send
them to the cardinal, that he may burn them." With these words he left
the court. But his anger evaporating,[648] he set off for Malines to
complain to the regent and her council of the Antwerp decision.
"What!" said he, "you punish those who circulate false money, and you
will not punish still more severely the man who coins it?--in this
case, he is the printer." "But that is just the point in dispute,"
they replied; "we are not sure the money is _false_."--"How can it be
otherwise," answered Henry's agent, "since the bishops of England have
declared it so?" The imperial government, which was not very
favourably disposed towards England, ratified Eyndhoven's acquittal,
but permitted Hackett to burn all the copies of the New Testament he
could seize. He hastened to profit by this concession, and began
hunting after the Holy Scriptures, while the priests eagerly came to
his assistance. In their view, as well as in that of their English
colleagues, the supreme decision in matter of faith rested not with
the word of God but with the pope; and the best means of securing this
privilege to the pontiff was to reduce the Bible to ashes.
[648] My choler was descended. Anderson's Annals of the Bible, i, p.
129.
Notwithstanding these trials, the year 1526 was a memorable one for
England. The English New Testament had been circulated from the shores
of the Channel to the borders of Scotland, and the Reformation had
begun in that island by the word of God. The revival of the sixteenth
century was in no country less than in England the emanation of a
royal mandate. But God, who had disseminated the Scriptures over
Britain, in defiance of the rulers of the nation, was about to make
use of their passions to remove the difficulties which opposed the
final triumph of his plans. We here enter upon a new phasis in the
history of the Reformation; and having studied the work of God in the
faith of the little ones, we proceed to contemplate the work of man in
the intrigues of the great ones of the earth.
CHAPTER V.
Wolsey desires to be revenged--The Divorce
suggested--Henry's Sentiments towards the Queen--Wolsey's
first Steps--Longland's Proceedings--Refusal of Margaret of
Valois--Objection of the Bishop of Tarbes--Henry's
uneasiness--Catherine's Alarm--Mission to Spain.
[Sidenote: WOLSEY DESIRES TO BE REVENGED.]
[Sidenote: THE DIVORCE SUGGESTED.]
Wolsey, mortified at not being able to obtain the pontifical throne,
to which he had so ardently aspired, and being especially irritated by
the ill-will of Charles V, meditated a plan which, entirely
unsuspected by him, was to lead to the enfranchisement of England from
the papal yoke. "They laugh at me, and thrust me into the second
rank," he had exclaimed. "So be it! I will create such a confusion in
the world as has not been seen for ages.... I will do it, even should
England be swallowed up in the tempest!"[649] Desirous of exciting
imperishable hatred between Henry VIII and Charles V, he had
undertaken to break the marriage which Henry VII and Ferdinand the
Catholic had planned to unite for ever their families and their
crowns. His hatred of Charles was not his only motive. Catherine had
reproached him for his dissolute life,[650] and he had sworn to be
revenged. There can be no doubt about Wolsey's share in the matter.
"The _first terms_ of the divorce were put forward by me," he told the
French ambassador. "I did it," he added, "to cause a lasting
separation between the houses of England and Burgundy."[651] The best
informed writers of the sixteenth century, men of the most opposite
parties, Pole, Polydore, Virgil, Tyndale, Meteren, Pallavicini,
Sanders, and Roper, More's son-in-law, all agree in pointing to Wolsey
as the instigator of that divorce, which has become so famous.[652] He
desired to go still farther, and after inducing the king to put away
his queen, he hoped to prevail on the pope to depose the emperor.[653]
It was not his passion for Anne Boleyn, as so many of the Romish
fabulists have repeated; but the passion of a cardinal for the triple
crown which gave the signal of England's emancipation. Offended pride
is one of the most active principles of human nature.
[649] Sandoval, i. p. 350. Ranke, Deutsche Gesch. iii. p. 17.
[650] Malos oderat mores. (Polyd. Virg. p. 685.) She hated his
depraved habits.
[651] Le Grand, Hist. du divorce, Preuves, p. 186.
[652] Instigator et auctor concilii existimibatur (Pole, Apology). He
was furious mad, and imagined this divorcement between the king and
the queen (Tyndale's Works, i. p. 465). See also Sanderus, 7 and 9;
Polyd. Virg. p. 685; Meteren, Hist. of the Low Countries, p. 20;
Pallavicini, Conc. Trident, i, p. 203, etc. A contrary assertion of
Wolsey's has been adduced against these authorities in the
_Pamphleteer_, No. 42, p. 336; but a slight acquaintance with his
history soon teaches us that veracity was the least of his virtues.
[653] Le Grand, Hist. du divorce, Preuves, p. 65, 69.
Wolsey's design was a strange one, and difficult of execution, but not
impossible. Henry was living apparently on the best terms with
Catherine; on more than one occasion Erasmus had spoken of the royal
family of England as the pattern of the domestic virtues. But the most
ardent of Henry's desires was not satisfied; he had no son; those whom
the queen had borne him had died in their infancy, and Mary alone
survived. The deaths of these little children, at all times so
heart-rending, were particularly so in the palace of Greenwich. It
appeared to Catherine that the shade of the last Plantagenet,
immolated on her marriage altar, came forth to seize one after another
the heirs she gave to the throne of England, and to carry them away to
his tomb. The queen shed tears almost unceasingly, and implored the
divine mercy, while the king cursed his unhappy fate. The people
seemed to share in the royal sorrow; and men of learning and piety
(Longland was among their number)[654] declared against the validity
of the marriage. They said that "the papal dispensations had no force
when in opposition to the law of God." Yet hitherto Henry had rejected
every idea of a divorce.[655]
[654] Jampridem conjugium regium, veluti infirmum. Polyd. Virg. p.
685.
[655] That matrimony which the king at first seemed not disposed to
annul. Strype, i, p. 135.
The times had changed since 1509. The king had loved Catherine: her
reserve, mildness, and dignity, had charmed him. Greedy of pleasure
and applause, he was delighted to see his wife content to be the quiet
witness of his joys and of his triumphs. But gradually the queen had
grown older, her Spanish gravity had increased, her devout practices
were multiplied, and her infirmities, become more frequent, had left
the king no hope of having a son. From that hour, even while
continuing to praise her virtues, Henry grew cold towards her person,
and his love by degrees changed into repugnance. And then he thought
that the death of his children might be a sign of God's anger. This
idea had taken hold of him, and induced him to occupy apartments
separate from the queen's.[656]
[656] Burnet. vol. i. p. 20 (London, 1841.) Letter from Grynæus to
Bucer. Strype, i, p. 135.
[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S FIRST STEPS.]
Wolsey judged the moment favourable for beginning the attack. It was
in the latter months of 1526, when calling Longland, the king's
confessor, to him, and concealing his principal motive, he said: "You
know his majesty's anguish. The stability of his crown and his
everlasting salvation seem to be compromised alike. To whom can I
unbosom myself, if not to you, who must know the inmost secrets of his
soul?" The two bishops resolved to awaken Henry to the perils incurred
by his union with Catherine;[657] but Longland insisted that Wolsey
should take the first steps.
[657] Quamprimum regi patefaciendum. (Polyd. Virg. p. 685.) That
forthwith it should be declared to the king.
The cardinal waited upon the king, and reminded him of his scruples
before the betrothal; he exaggerated those entertained by the nation,
and speaking with unusual warmth, he entreated the king to remain no
longer in such danger:[658] "The holiness of your life and the
legitimacy of your succession are at stake." "My good father," said
Henry, "you would do well to consider the weight of the stone that you
have undertaken to move.[659] The queen is a woman of such exemplary
life that I have no motive for separating from her."
[658] Vehementer orat ne se patiatur in tanto versari discrimine.
(Ibid.) He earnestly begged him not to suffer himself to be exposed to
such hazard.
[659] Bone pater, vide bene quale saxum suo loco jacens movere
coneris. Ibid.
The cardinal did not consider himself beaten; three days later he
appeared before the king accompanied by the bishop of Lincoln. "Most
mighty prince," said the confessor, who felt bold enough to speak
after the cardinal, "you cannot, like Herod, have your brother's
wife.[660] I exhort and conjure you, as having the care of your
soul,[661] to submit the matter to competent judges." Henry consented,
and perhaps not unwillingly.
[660] Like another Herodes. More's Life, p. 129.
[661] Ipse cui de salute animæ tuæ cura est, _hortor_, _rogo_,
_persuadeo_. Polyd. Virg. p. 686.
[Sidenote: WOLSEY PROPOSES MARGARET.]
It was not enough for Wolsey to separate Henry from the emperor; he
must, for greater security, unite him to Francis I. The King of
England shall repudiate the aunt of Charles V, and then marry the
sister of the French king. Proud of the success he had obtained in
the first part of his plan, Wolsey entered upon the second. "There is
a princess," he told the king, "whose birth, graces, and talents charm
all Europe. Margaret of Valois, sister of King Francis, is superior to
all of her sex, and no one is worthier of your alliance."[662] Henry
made answer that it was a serious matter, requiring deliberate
examination. Wolsey, however, placed in the king's hands a portrait of
Margaret, and it has been imagined that he even privily caused her
sentiments to be sounded. Be that as it may, the sister of Francis I
having learnt that she was pointed at as the future queen of England,
rebelled at the idea of taking from an innocent woman a crown she had
worn so nobly. "The French king's sister knows too much of Christ to
consent unto such wickedness," said Tyndale.[663] Margaret of Valois
replied: "Let me hear no more of a marriage that can be effected only
at the expense of Catherine of Aragon's happiness and life."[664] The
woman who was destined in future years to fill the throne of England
was then residing at Margaret's court. Shortly after this, on the 24th
of January 1527, the sister of Francis I, married Henry d'Albret, king
of Navarre.
[662] Mulier præter cæteras digna matrimonio tuo. Polyd. Virg p. 686.
[663] Works (ed. Russell), vol. i. p. 464.
[664] Princeps illa, mulier optima, noluerit quicquam audire de
nuptiis, quæ nuptiæ non possunt conjungi sine miserabili Catharinæ
casu atque adeo interitu. (Polyd. Virg. p. 687.) That princess, a most
noble woman, would not listen to any proposal for an alliance which
could not be made without involving Catherine in ruin and death.
Henry VIII, desirous of information with regard to his favourite's
suggestion, commissioned Fox, his almoner, Pace, dean of St. Paul's,
and Wakefield, professor of Hebrew at Oxford, to study the passages of
Leviticus and Deuteronomy which related to marriage with a brother's
wife. Wakefield, who had no wish to commit himself, asked whether
Henry was _for_ or _against_ the divorce.[665] Pace replied to this
servile hebraist that the king wanted nothing but the truth.
[665] Utrum staret ad te an contra te? Le Grand, Preuves, p. 2.
But who would take the first public step in an undertaking so
hazardous? Every one shrank back; the terrible emperor alarmed them
all. It was a French bishop that hazarded the step; bishops meet us at
every turn in this affair of the divorce, with which bishops have so
violently reproached the Reformation. Henry, desirous of excusing
Wolsey, pretended afterwards that the objections of the French prelate
had preceded those of Longland and the cardinal. In February 1527,
Francis I, had sent an embassy to London, at the head of which was
Gabriel de Grammont, bishop of Tarbes, with the intention to procure
the hand of Mary of England. Henry's ministers having inquired
whether the engagements of Francis with the queen dowager of Portugal
did not oppose the commission with which the French bishop was
charged, the latter answered: "I will ask you in turn what has been
done to remove the impediments which opposed the marriage of which the
Princess Mary is issue."[666] They laid before the ambassador the
dispensation of Julius II, which he returned, saying, that the bull
was not _sufficient_, seeing that such a marriage was forbidden _jure
divino_,[667] and he added: "Have you English a different gospel from
ours?"[668]
[666] What had been here provided for taking away the impediment of
that marriage. (State Papers, i. p. 199.) Le Grand (vol. i. p. 17.)
discredits the objections of the bishop of Tarbes; but this letter
from Wolsey to Henry VIII establishes them incontrovertibly. And
besides, Du Bellay, in a letter afterwards quoted by Le Grand himself,
states the matter still more strongly than Wolsey.
[667] Wherewith the pope could not dispense, _nisi ex urgentissima
causa_. Wolsey to Henry VIII, dated 8th July. State Papers, vol. i, p.
199.
[668] Anglos, qui tuo imperio subsunt, hoc idem evangelium colere quod
nos colimus. (Sanders, 12.) The English, who are under thy rule,
follow the same gospel that we follow.
[Sidenote: HENRY'S UNEASINESS.]
The king, when he heard these words (as he informs us himself), was
filled with fear and horror.[669] Three of the most respected bishops
of Christendom united to accuse him of incest! He began to speak of it
to certain individuals: "The scruples of my conscience have been
terribly increased (he said) since the bishop spoke of this matter
before my council in exceedingly plain words."[670] There is no reason
to believe that these _terrible_ troubles of which the king speaks
were a mere invention on his part. A disputed succession might again
plunge England into civil war. Even if no pretenders should spring up,
might they not see a rival house, a French prince for instance, wedded
to Henry's daughter, reigning over England? The king, in his anxiety,
had recourse to his favourite author, Thomas Aquinas, and this _angel
of the schools_ declared his marriage unlawful. Henry next opened the
Bible, and found this threat against the man who took his brother's
wife: "He shall be _childless_!" The denunciation increased his
trouble, for he had no heir. In the midst of this darkness a new
perspective opened before him. His conscience might be unbound; his
desire to have a younger wife might be gratified; he might have a
son!... The king resolved to lay the matter before a commission of
lawyers, and this commission soon wrote volumes.[671]
[669] Quæ oratio quanto metu ac horrore animum nostrum turbaverit.
(Which speech has troubled our mind with much fear and horror.)
Henry's speech to the Lord Mayor and common council, at his palace of
Bridewell, 8th November 1528. (Hall, p. 754; Wilkins, Concil. iii. p.
714.)
[670] Du Bellay's letter in Le Grand. Preuves, p. 218.
[671] So as the books excrescunt in magna volumina. Wolsey to Henry
VIII. State Papers, vol. i, p. 200.
[Sidenote: CATHERINE'S ALARM.]
During all this time Catherine, suspecting no evil, was occupied in
her devotions. Her heart, bruised by the death of her children and by
the king's coldness, sought consolation in prayer both privately and
in the royal chapel. She would rise at midnight and kneel down upon
the cold stones, and never missed any of the canonical services. But
one day (probably in May or June 1527) some officious person informed
her of the rumours circulating in the city and at court. Bursting with
anger and alarm, and all in tears, she hastened to the king, and
addressed him with the bitterest complaints.[672] Henry was content to
calm her by vague assurances; but the unfeeling Wolsey, troubling
himself still less than his master about Catherine's emotion, called
it, with a smile, "a short tragedy."
[672] The queen hath broken with your grace thereof. State Papers,
vol. i. p. 200.
The offended wife lost no time: it was necessary that the emperor
should be informed promptly, surely, and accurately of this
unprecedented insult. A letter would be insufficient, even were it not
intercepted. Catherine therefore determined to send her servant
Francis Philip, a Spaniard, to her nephew; and to conceal the object
of his journey, they proceeded, after the _tragedy_, to play a
_comedy_ in the Spanish style. "My mother is sick and desires to see
me," said Philip. Catherine begged the king to refuse her servant's
prayer; and Henry, divining the stratagem, resolved to employ trick
against trick.[673] "Philip's request is very proper," he made answer;
and Catherine, _from regard to her husband_, consented to his
departure. Henry meantime had given orders that, "notwithstanding any
safe conduct, the said Philip should be arrested and detained at
Calais, in such a manner, however, that no one should know whence the
stoppage proceeded."
[673] The king's highness knowing great collusion and dissimulation
between them, doth also dissemble. Knight to Wolsey. Ibid. p. 215.
It was to no purpose that the queen indulged in a culpable
dissimulation; a poisoned arrow had pierced her heart, and her words,
her manners, her complaints, her tears, the numerous messages she
sent, now to one and now to another, betrayed the secret which the
king wished still to conceal.[674] Her friends blamed her for this
publicity; men wondered what Charles would say when he heard of his
aunt's distress; they feared that peace would be broken; but
Catherine, whose heart was "rent in twain," was not to be moved by
diplomatic considerations. Her sorrow did not check Henry; with the
two motives which made him eager for a divorce--the scruples of his
conscience and the desire of an heir--was now combined a third still
more forcible. A woman was about to play an important part in the
destinies of England.
[674] By her behaviour, manner, words, and messages sent to diverse,
hath published, divulged, etc. Ibid. p. 280.
CHAPTER VI.
Anne Boleyn appointed Maid of Honour to Catherine--Lord
Percy becomes attached to her--Wolsey separates them--Anne
enters Margaret's Household--Siege of Rome;
Cromwell--Wolsey's Intercession for the Popedom--He demands
the Hand of Renée of France for Henry--Failure--Anne
re-appears at Court--Repels the king's Advances--Henry's
Letter--He resolves to accelerate the Divorce--Two Motives
which induce Anne to refuse the Crown--Wolsey's Opposition.
[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN AND LORD PERCY.]
Anne Boleyn, who had been placed by her father at the court of France,
had returned to England with Sir Thomas, then ambassador at Paris, at
the time that an English army made an incursion into Normandy (1522.)
It would appear that she was presented to the queen about this period,
and appointed one of Catherine's maids of honour. The following year
was a memorable one to her from her first sorrow.
Among the young noblemen in the cardinal's household was Lord Percy,
eldest son of the Earl of Northumberland. While Wolsey was closeted
with the king, Percy was accustomed to resort to the queen's
apartments, where he passed the time among her ladies. He soon felt a
sincere passion for Anne, and the young maid of honour, who had been
cold to the addresses of the gentlemen at the court of Francis,
replied to the affections of the heir of Northumberland. The two young
people already indulged in day-dreams of a quiet, elegant, and happy
life in their noble castles of the north; but such dreams were fated
to be of short duration.
[Sidenote: WOLSEY SEPARATES THE YOUNG LOVERS.]
Wolsey hated the Norfolks, and consequently the Boleyns. It was to
counterbalance their influence that he had been first introduced at
court. He became angry, therefore, when he saw one of his household
suing for the hand of the daughter and niece of his enemies. Besides,
certain partisans of the clergy accused Anne of being friendly to the
Reformation.[675]... It is generally believed that even at this period
Wolsey had discovered Henry's eyes turned complacently on the young
maid of honour, and that this induced him to thwart Percy's love; but
this seems improbable. Of all the women in England, Anne was the one
whose influence Wolsey would have had most cause to fear, and he
really did fear it; and he would have been but too happy to see her
married to Percy. It has been asserted that Henry prevailed on the
cardinal to thwart the affection of the two young people; but in that
case did he confide to Wolsey the real motive of his opposition? Did
the latter entertain criminal intentions? Did he undertake to yield up
to dishonour the daughter and niece of his political adversaries? This
would be horrible, but it is possible, and may even be deduced from
Cavendish's narrative; yet we will hope that it was not so. If it
were, Anne's virtue successfully baffled the infamous plot.
[675] Meteren's Hist. of the Low Countries, folio, 20.
But be that as it may, one day when Percy was in attendance upon the
cardinal, the latter rudely addressed him: "I marvel at your folly,
that you should attempt to contract yourself with that girl without
your father's or the king's consent. I command you to break with her."
Percy burst into tears, and besought the cardinal to plead his cause.
"I charge you to resort no more into her company," was Wolsey's cold
reply,[676] after which he rose up and left the room. Anne received an
order at the same time to leave the court. Proud and bold, and
ascribing her misfortune to Wolsey's hatred, she exclaimed as she
quitted the palace, "I will be revenged for this insult." But she had
scarcely taken up her abode in the gothic Halls of Hever Castle, when
news still more distressing overwhelmed her. Percy was married to Lady
Mary Talbot. She wept long and bitterly, and vowed against the young
nobleman who had deserted her a contempt equal to her hatred of the
cardinal. Anne was reserved for a more illustrious, but more unhappy
fate.
[676] Cavendish's Wolsey. p. 123. Cavendish was present at this
conversation.
This event necessarily rendered her residence in this country far from
attractive to Anne Boleyn. "She did not stay long in England," says
Burnet, following Camden; "she served queen Claude of France till her
death, and after that she was taken into service by King Francis'
sister." Anne Boleyn, lady-in-waiting to Margaret of Valois, was
consoled at last. She indulged in gaieties with all the vivacity of
her age, and glittered among the youngest and the fairest at all the
court festivities.
In Margaret's house she met the most enlightened men of the age, and
her understanding and heart were developed simultaneously with the
graces. She began to read, without thoroughly understanding it, the
holy book in which her mistress (as Brantome informs us) found
consolation and repose, and to direct a few light and passing
thoughts to that "mild Emmanuel," to whom Margaret addressed such
beautiful verses.
[Sidenote: CAPTURE OF ROME--CROMWELL.]
At last Anne returned definitively to England. It has been asserted
that the queen-regent, fearing that Henry after the battle of Pavia
would invade France, had sent Anne to London to dissuade him from it.
But it was a stronger voice than hers which stopped the king of
England. "Remain quiet," wrote Charles V to him; "I have the stag in
my net, and we have only to think of sharing the spoils." Margaret of
Valois having married the king of Navarre at the end of January 1527,
and quitted Paris and her brother's court, it is supposed that Sir
Thomas Boleyn, who was unwilling that his daughter should take up her
abode in the Pyrenees, recalled her to England probably in the winter
or spring of the same year. "There is not the least evidence that she
came to it earlier," says a modern author.[677] She appeared once more
at court, and the niece of the Duke of Norfolk soon eclipsed her
companions, "by her excellent gesture and behaviour,"[678] as we learn
from a contemporary unfriendly to the Boleyns. All the court was
struck by the regularity of her features, the expression of her eyes,
the gentleness of her manners, and the majesty of her carriage.[679]
"She was a beautiful creature," says an old historian, "well
proportioned, courteous, amiable, very agreeable, and a skilful
musician."[680]
[677] Turner, Hist. Henry VIII. ii. p. 185.
[678] Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 120.
[679] Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt, in Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p.
424.
[680] Meteren's Hist. of the Low Countries, folio. 20.
While entertainments were following close upon each other at the court
of Henry VIII, a strange rumour filled all England with surprise. It
was reported that the imperialist soldiers had taken Rome by assault,
and that some Englishmen were among those who had mounted the breach.
One Thomas Cromwell was specially named[681]--the man who nearly
twenty years before had obtained certain indulgences from Julius II,
by offering him some jars of English confectionary. This soldier
carried with him the New Testament of Erasmus, and he is said to have
learnt it by heart during the campaign. Being gay, brave, and
intelligent, he entertained, from reading the gospel and seeing Rome,
a great aversion for the policy, superstitions, and disorders of the
popedom. The day of the 7th May 1527 decided the tenor of his life. To
destroy the papal power became his dominant idea. On returning to
England he entered the cardinal's household.
[681] Foxe, vol. v. p. 365.
However, the captive pope and cardinals wrote letters "filled with
tears and groans."[682] Full of zeal for the papacy, Wolsey ordered a
public fast. "The emperor will never release the pope, unless he be
compelled," he told the king. "Sir, God has made you _defender of the
faith_; save the church and its head!"--"My lord," answered the king
with a smile, "I assure you that this war between the emperor and the
pope is not for the faith, but for temporal possessions and
dominions."
[682] Plenas lacrymarum et miseriæ. State Papers, vol. i.
[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S EMBASSY TO FRANCE.]
But Wolsey would not be discouraged; and, on the 3rd of July, he
passed through the streets of London, riding a richly caparisoned
mule, and resting his feet on gilt stirrups, while twelve hundred
gentlemen accompanied him on horseback. He was going to entreat
Francis to aid his master in saving Clement VII. He had found no
difficulty in prevailing upon Henry; Charles talked of carrying the
pope to Spain, and of permanently establishing the apostolic see in
that country.[683] Now, how could they obtain the divorce from a
_Spanish_ pope? During the procession, Wolsey seemed oppressed with
grief, and even shed tears;[684] but he soon raised his head and
exclaimed: "My heart is inflamed, and I wish that it may be said of
the pope _per secula sempiterna_,
"Rediit Henrici octavi virtute serena."
[683] The see apostolic should perpetually remain in Spain. Ibid. i.
p. 227.
[684] I saw the lord cardinal weep very tenderly. Cavendish, p. 151.
Desirous of forming a close union between France and England for the
accomplishment of his designs, he had cast his eyes on the princess
Renée, daughter of Louis XII, and sister-in-law to Francis I, as the
future wife of Henry VIII. Accordingly the treaty of alliance between
the two crowns having been signed at Amiens on the 18th of August
(1527), Francis, with his mother and the cardinal, proceeded to
Compiégne, and there Wolsey, styling Charles the most obstinate
defender of Lutheranism,[685] promising "perpetual _conjunction_ on
the one hand [between France and England], and perpetual _disjunction_
on the other." [between England and Germany],[686] demanded Renée's
hand for king Henry. Staffileo, dean of Rota, affirmed that the pope
had been able to permit the marriage between Henry and Catherine only
by an error of the keys of St. Peter.[687] This avowal, so remarkable
on the part of the dean of one of the first jurisdictions of Rome,
induced Francis' mother to listen favourably to the cardinal's demand.
But whether this proposal was displeasing to Renée, who was destined
on a future day to profess the pure faith of the Gospel with greater
earnestness than Margaret of Valois, or whether Francis was not
over-anxious for a union that would have given Henry rights over the
duchy of Brittany, she was promised to the son of the Duke of Ferrara.
It was a check to the cardinal; but it was his ill fortune to receive
one still more severe on his return to England.
[685] Omnium maxime dolosus et hæresis Lutherianæ fautor acerrimus.
(State Papers, i. p. 274.) By far the most cunning and violent
favourer of the Lutheran heresy.
[686] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, i. p. 186.
[687] Nisi clave errante. (State Papers, i. p. 272.) Unless by an
erring key.
[Sidenote: ANNE BOLEYN'S SUCCESS.]
The daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, (who had been created Viscount
Rochford in 1525,) was constantly at court, "where she nourished in
great estimation and favour," says Cavendish, "having always a private
indignation against the cardinal for breaking off the pre-contract
made between Lord Percy and her," little suspecting that Henry had had
any share in it.[688] Her beauty, her graceful carriage, her black
hair, oval face, and bright eyes, her sweet voice in singing, her
skill and dignity in the dance, her desire to please which was not
entirely devoid of coquetry, her sprightliness, the readiness of her
repartees, and above all the amiability of her character, won every
heart. She brought to Greenwich and to London the polished manners of
the court of Francis I. Every day (it was reported) she invented a new
style of dress, and set the fashion in England. But to all these
qualities, she added modesty, and even imposed it on others by her
example. The ladies of the court, who had hitherto adopted a different
fashion (says her greatest enemy), covered the neck and bosom as she
did;[689] and the malicious, unable to appreciate Anne's motives,
ascribed this modesty on the young lady's part to a desire to hide a
secret deformity.[690] Numerous admirers once more crowded round Anne
Boleyn, and among others, one of the most illustrious noblemen and
poets of England, Sir Thomas Wyatt, a follower of Wickliffe. He
however, was not the man destined to replace the son of the Percies.
[688] For all this while she knew nothing of the king's intended
purpose, said one of his adversaries. Cavendish's Wolsey, p. 129.
[689] Ad illius imitationem reliquæ regiæ ancillæ colli et pectoris
superiora, quæ antea nuda gestabant, operire cœperunt. Sanders, p. 16.
In imitation of her, the other ladies of the court began to cover
their neck and bosom which formerly they had worn exposed.
[690] See Sanders, Ibid. It is useless to refute Sanders' stories. We
refer our readers to Burnet's Hist. of the Reformation, to Lord
Herbert's life of Henry VIII, to Wyatt, and others. We need only read
Sanders to estimate at their true value the _foul calumnies_, as these
writers term them, of the man whom they style the _Roman legendary_.
[Sidenote: ANNE REJECTS THE KING.]
Henry, absorbed in anxiety about his divorce from Catherine, had
become low-spirited and melancholy. The laughter, songs, repartees,
and beauty of Anne Boleyn struck and captivated him, and his eyes were
soon fixed complacently on the young maid of honour. Catherine was
more than forty years old, and it was hardly to be expected that so
susceptible a man as Henry would have made, as Job says, _a covenant
with his eyes_ _not to think upon a maid_. Desirous of showing his
admiration, he presented Anne, according to usage, with a costly
jewel; she accepted and wore it, and continued to dance, laugh, and
chatter as before, without attaching particular importance to the
royal present. Henry's attentions became more continuous; and he took
advantage of a moment when he found Anne alone to declare his
sentiments. With mingled emotion and alarm, the young lady fell
trembling at the king's feet, and exclaimed, bursting into tears: "I
think, most noble and worthy king, your majesty speaks these words in
mirth to prove me.... I will rather lose my life than my virtue."[691]
Henry gracefully replied, that he should at least continue to hope.
But Anne, rising up, proudly made answer: "I understand not, most
mighty king, how you should retain any such hope; your wife I cannot
be, both in respect of mine own unworthiness, and also because you
have a queen already. Your mistress I will not be." Anne kept her
word. She continued to show the king, even after this interview, all
the respect that was due to him; but on several occasions she proudly,
violently even, repelled his advances.[692] In this age of gallantry,
we find her resisting for nearly six years all the seductions Henry
scattered round her. Such an example is not often met with in the
history of courts. The books she had read in Margaret's palace gave
her a secret strength. All looked upon her with respect; and even the
queen treated her with politeness. Catherine showed, however, that she
had remarked the king's preference. One day, as she was playing at
cards with her maid of honour, while Henry was in the room, Anne
frequently holding the _king_, she said: "My Lady Anne, you have good
hap to stop ever at a _king_; but you are not like others, you will
have all or none." Anne blushed: from that moment Henry's attentions
acquired more importance; she resolved to withdraw from them, and
quitted the court with Lady Rochford.
[691] Sloane MSS. No. 2495; Turner's Hist. Eng. ii. p. 196.
[692] Tanto vehementius preces regias illa repulit. (Sanders, p. 17.)
So much the more vehemently she repelled the king's entreaties.
[Sidenote: HENRY'S LETTER TO ANNE.]
The king, who was not accustomed to resistance, was extremely grieved;
and having learnt that Anne would not return to the court either with
or without her mother, sent a courier to Hever with a message and a
letter for her. If we recollect the manners of the age of Henry VIII,
and how far the men, in their relations with the gentler sex, were
strangers to that reserve which society now imposes upon them, we
cannot but be struck by the king's respectful tone: He writes thus in
French:--
"As the time seems to me very long since I heard from you or
concerning your health, the great love I have for you has
constrained me to send this bearer to be better informed
both of your health and pleasure; particularly, because
since my last parting with you, I have been told that you
have entirely changed the mind in which I left you, and that
you neither mean to come to court with your mother nor any
other way; which report, if true, I cannot enough marvel at,
being persuaded in my own mind that I have never committed
any offence against you; and it seems hard, in return for
the great love I bear you, to be kept at a distance from the
person and presence of the woman in the world that I value
the most. And if you love me with as much affection as I
hope you do, I am sure the distance of our two persons would
be equally irksome to you, though this does not belong so
much to the mistress as to the servant.
"Consider well, my mistress, how greatly your absence
afflicts me. I hope it is not your will that it should be
so; but if I heard for certain that you yourself desired it,
I could but mourn my ill-fortune, and strive by degrees to
abate of my great folly.
"And so for lack of time I make an end of this rude letter,
beseeching you to give the bearer credence in all he will
tell you from me. Written by the hand of your entire
servant,
"H. R."[693]
[693] Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 347. It is difficult to fix the order
and chronology of Henry's letters to Anne Boleyn. This is the second
in the Vatican Collection, but it appears to us to be of older date.
It is considered as written in May 1528; we are inclined to place it
in the autumn of 1527. The originals of these letters, chiefly in old
French, are still preserved in the Vatican, having been stolen from
the royal cabinet and conveyed thither.
The word _servant_ (serviteur) employed in this letter explains the
sense in which Henry used the word _mistress_. In the language of
chivalry, the latter term expressed a person to whom the lover had
surrendered his heart.
It would seem that Anne's reply to this letter was the same she had
made to the king from the very first; and Cardinal Pole mentions more
than once her obstinate refusal of an adulterous love.[694] At last
Henry understood Anne's virtue; but he was far from _abating of his
great folly_, as he had promised. That tyrannical selfishness, which
the prince often displayed in his life, was shown particularly in his
amours. Seeing that he could not attain his end by illegitimate means,
he determined to break, as quickly as possible, the bonds which united
him to the queen. Anne's virtue was the third cause of Henry's
divorce.
[694] Concubina enim tua fieri pudica mulier nolebat, uxor volebat.
Illa cujus amore rex deperibat, pertinacissime negabat sui corporis
potestatem. (Polus ad Regem, p. 176.) For a modest woman, though
willing to be thy wife refused to become thy concubine. Though a king
was consumed by love for her, she obstinately refused to yield to him
the power over her person. Cardinal Pole is a far more trust-worthy
authority than Sanders.
[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S OPPOSITION.]
His resolution being once taken, it must needs be carried out. Henry
having succeeded in bringing Anne back to court, procured a private
interview with her, offered her his crown, and seizing her hand, took
off one of her rings. But Anne, who would not be the king's mistress,
refused also to be his wife. The glory of a crown could not dazzle
her, said Wyatt, and two motives in particular counterbalanced all the
prospects of greatness which were set before her eyes. The first was
her respect for the queen: "How could I injure a princess of such
great virtue?" she exclaimed.[695] The second was the fear that a
union with "one that was her lord and her king," would not give her
that freedom of heart and that liberty which she would enjoy by
marrying a man of the same rank with herself.[696]
[695] The love she bare even to the queen whom the served, that was
also a personage of great virtue. Wyatt, Mem. of A. B. p. 428.
[696] Ibid.
Yet the noblemen and ladies of Henry's court whispered to one another
that Anne would certainly become queen of England. Some were tormented
by jealousy; others, her friends, were delighted at the prospect of a
rapid advancement. Wolsey's enemies in particular were charmed at the
thought of ruining the favourite. It was at the very moment when all
these emotions were so variously agitating the court that the
cardinal, returning from his embassy to Francis, re-appeared in
London, where an unexpected blow struck him.