_THE FALL OF THE MONASTERIES_
The rise of Protestantism accelerated the decline and final ruin of the
monasteries. The enthusiasm of the Mendicants and the culture of the
Jesuits failed to convince the governments of Europe that monasticism
was worthy to survive the destruction awaiting so many medieval
institutions. The spread of reformatory opinions resulted in a
determined and largely successful attack upon the monasteries, which
were rightly believed to constitute the bulwark of papal power. So
imperative were the popular demands for a change, that popes and
councils hastened to urge the members of religious orders to abolish
existing abuses by enforcing primitive rules. But while Rome practically
failed in her attempted reformations, the Protestant reformers in church
and state were widely successful in either curtailing the privileges
and revenues of the monks or in annihilating the monasteries.
Since the sixteenth century the leading governments of Europe, even
including those in Catholic countries, have given tangible expression to
popular and political antagonism to monasticism, by the abolition of
convents, or the withdrawal of immunities and favors, for a long time a
source of monastic revenue and power. The results of this hostility have
been so disastrous, that monasticism has never regained its former
prestige and influence. Several of the older orders have risen from the
ruins, and a few new communities have appeared, some of which are
distinguished by their most laudable ministrations to the poor and the
sick, or by their educational services. Yet notwithstanding the
modifications of the system to suit the exigencies of modern times, it
seems altogether improbable that the monks will ever again wield the
power they possessed before the Reformation,
In the present chapter attention will be confined to the dissolution of
the monasteries under Henry VIII., in England. The suppression in that
country was occasioned partly by peculiar, local conditions, and was
more radical and permanent than the reforms in other lands, yet it is
entirely consistent with our general purpose to restrict this narrative
to English history. Penetrating beneath the varying externalities
attending the ruin of the monasteries in Germany, Spain, France,
Switzerland, Italy, and other countries, it will be found that the
underlying cause of the destruction of the monasteries was that the
monastic ideal conflicted with the spirit of the modern era. A
conspicuous and dramatic example of this struggle between medievalism,
as embodied in the monastic institution, and modern political, social
and religious ideals, is to be found in the dissolution of the English
monasteries. The narrative of the suppression in England also conveys
some idea of the struggle that was carried on throughout Europe, with
varying intensity and results.
There is no more striking illustration of the power of the personal
equation in the interpretation of history than that afforded by the
conflicting opinions respecting the overthrow of monasticism in England.
Those who mourn the loss of the monasteries cannot find words strong
enough with which to condemn Henry VIII., whom they regard as
"unquestionably the most unconstitutional, the most vicious king that
ever wore the English crown." Forgetting the inevitable cost of human
freedom, and lightly passing over the iniquities of the monastic system,
they fondly dwell upon the departed glory of the ancient abbeys. They
recall with sadness the days when the monks chanted their songs of
praise in the chapels, or reverently bent over their books of parchment,
bound in purple and gold, not that they might "winnow the treasures of
knowledge, but that they might elicit love, compunction and devotion."
The charming simplicity and loving service of the cloister life, in the
days of its unbroken vows, appeal to such defenders of the monks with
singular potency.
Truly, the fair-minded should attempt to appreciate the sorrow, the
indignation and the love of these friends of a ruined institution.
Passionless logic will never enable one to do justice to the sentiments
of those who cannot restrain their tears as they stand uncovered before
the majestic remains of a Melrose Abbey, or properly to estimate the
motives and methods of those who laid the mighty monastic institution
in the dust.
_The Character of Henry VIII_
Before considering the actual work of suppression, it may be interesting
to glance at the royal destroyer and his times. The character of Henry
VIII. is utterly inexplicable to many persons, chiefly because they do
not reflect that even the inconsistencies of a great man may be
understood when seen in the light of his times. A masterly and
comprehensive summary of the virtues and vices of the Tudor monarch, who
has been described as "the king, the whole king, and nothing but the
king," may be found in "A History of Crime in England," by Luke Owen
Pike. The distinguished author shows that in his brutality, his love of
letters, his opposition to Luther, his vacillation in religious
opinions, King Henry reflects with remarkable fidelity the age in which
he lived, both in its contrasts and its inconsistencies. "It is only the
previous history of England which can explain all the contradictions
exhibited in his conduct,--which can explain how he could be rapacious
yet sometimes generous, the Defender of the Faith yet under sentence of
excommunication, a burner of heretics yet a heretic himself, the pope's
advocate yet the pope's greatest enemy, a bloodthirsty tyrant yet the
best friend to liberty of thought in religion, an enthusiast yet a
turncoat, a libertine and yet all but a Puritan. He was sensual because
his forefathers had been sensual from time immemorial, rough in speech
and action because there had been but few men in Britain who had been
otherwise since the Romans abandoned the island. He was superstitious
and credulous because few were philosophical or gifted with intellectual
courage. Yet he had, what was possessed by his contemporaries, a faint
and intermittent thirst for knowledge, of which he himself hardly knew
the meaning." Henry was shrewd, tenacious of purpose, capricious and
versatile. In spite of his unrestrained indulgences and his monstrous
claims of power, which, be it remembered, he was able to enforce, and
notwithstanding any other vices or faults that may be truthfully charged
against him, he was, on the whole, a popular king. Few monarchs have
ever had to bear such a strain as was placed upon his abilities and
character. Rare have been the periods that have witnessed such
confusion of principles, social, political and religious. Those were the
days when liberty was at work, "but in a hundred fantastical and
repulsive shapes, confused and convulsive, multiform, deformed." Blind
violence and half-way reforms characterized the age because the
principles that were to govern modern times were not yet formulated.
Judged apart from his times Henry appears as an arrogant, cruel and
fickle ruler, whose virtues fail to atone for his vices. But still, with
all his faults, he compares favorably with preceding monarchs and even
with his contemporaries. If he had possessed less intelligence, courage
and ambition, he would not now be so conspicuous for his vices, but the
history of human liberty and free institutions, especially in England,
would have been vastly different. His praiseworthy traits were not
sufficiently strong to enable him to control his inherited passions, but
they were too regnant to permit him to submit without a struggle to the
hierarchy which had dominated his country so many centuries. Such was
"the majestic lord,
That broke the bonds of Rome."
_Events Preceding the Suppression_
Many causes and incidents contributed to the progress of the reformation
in England, and to the demolition of the monasteries. Only a few of them
can be given here, and they must be stated with a brevity that conveys
no adequate conception of their profound significance.
Henry VIII. ascended the throne, in the year 1509, when eighteen years
of age. In 1517, Luther took his stand against Rome. Four years later
Henry wrote a treatise in defence of the Seven Sacraments and in
opposition to the German reformer. For this princely service to the
church the king received the title "Defender of the Faith" from Pope
Leo X.
About 1527 it became known that Henry was questioning the validity of
his marriage with Catharine of Aragon, whom he had married when he was
twelve years old. She was the widow of his brother Arthur. The king
professed conscientious scruples about his marriage, but undoubtedly his
desire for male offspring, and later, his passion for Anne Boleyn,
prompted him to seek release from his queen. In 1529, Henry and
Catharine stood before a papal tribunal, presided over by Cardinal
Wolsey, the king's prime minister, and Cardinal Campeggio, from Rome,
for the purpose of determining the validity of the royal marriage. The
trial was a farce. The enraged king laid the blame upon Wolsey, and
retired him from office. The great cardinal was afterwards charged with
treason, but died broken-hearted, on his way to the Tower, November
29, 1530.
The breach between Henry and Rome, complicated by numerous international
intrigues, widened rapidly. Henry began to assume an attitude of bold
defiance toward the pope, which aroused the animosity of the Catholic
princes of Europe.
Notwithstanding the desire of a large body of the English people to
remain faithful to Rome, the dangers which menaced their country from
abroad and the ecclesiastical abuses at home, which had been a fruitful
cause for complaint for many years, tended to lessen the ancient horror
of heresy and schism, and inclined them to support their king. Another
factor that assisted in preparing the English people for the
destruction of the monasteries was Lollardism. As an organized sect, the
Lollards had ceased to exist, but the spirit and the doctrines of Wyclif
did not die. A real and a vital connection existed between the Lollards
of the fourteenth, and the reformers of the sixteenth, centuries. In
Henry's time, many Englishmen held practically the same views of Rome
and of the monks that had been taught by Wyclif[I].
[Footnote I: Appendix, Note I.]
A considerable number of Henry's subjects, however, while ostensibly
loyal to him, were inwardly full of hot rebellion. The king was
surrounded with perils. The princes of the Continent were eagerly
awaiting the bull for his excommunication. Henry's throne and his
kingdom might at any moment be given over by the pope to invasion by the
continental sovereigns.
Reginald Pole, afterwards cardinal, a cousin of the king, and a strong
Catholic, stood ready to betray the interests of his country to Rome.
Writing to the king, he said: "Man is against you; God is against you;
the universe is against you; what can you look for but destruction?"
"Dream not, Caesar," he encouragingly declared to Emperor Charles V.,
"that all generous hearts are quenched in England; that faith and piety
are dead. In you is their trust, in your noble nature, and in your zeal
for God--they hold their land till you shall come." Thus, on the
testimony of a Roman Catholic, there were traitors in England waiting
only for the call of Charles V., "To arms!" Pole was in full sympathy
with all the factions opposed to the king, and stood ready to aid them
in their resistance. He publicly denounced the king in several
continental countries.
The monks were especially enraged against Henry. They did all they could
to inflame the people by preaching against him and the reformers. Friar
Peyto, preaching before the king, had the assurance to say to him: "Many
lying prophets have deceived you, but I, as a true Micah, warn you that
the dogs will lick your blood as they did Ahab's." While the courage of
this friar is unquestioned, his defiant attitude illustrates the
position occupied by the monks toward those who favored separation from
Rome. The whole country was at white heat. The friends of Rome looked
upon Henry as an incarnate fiend, a servant of the devil and an enemy
of all religion. Many of them opposed him with the purest and best
motives, believing that the king was really undermining the church of
God and throwing society into chaos.
In 1531, the English clergy were coerced into declaring that Henry was
"the protector and the supreme head of the church and of the clergy of
England," which absurd claim was slightly modified by the words, "in so
far as is permitted by the law of Christ." Chapuys, in one of his
despatches informing Charles V. of this action of convocation, said that
it practically declared Henry the Pope of England. "It is true," he
wrote, "that the clergy have added to the declaration that they did so
only so far as permitted by the law of God. But that is all the same, as
far as the king is concerned, as if they had made no reservation, for no
one will now be so bold as to contest with his lord the importance of
the reservation." Later on, Chapuys says that the king told the pope's
nuncio that "if the pope would not show him more consideration, he would
show the world that the pope had no greater authority than Moses, and
that every claim not grounded on Scripture was mere usurpation; that
the great concourse of people present had come solely and exclusively to
request him to bastinado the clergy, who were hated by both nobles and
the people." ("Spanish Despatches," number 460.)
Parliament, in 1534, conferred on Henry the title "Supreme Head of the
Church of England," and empowered him "to visit, and repress, redress,
reform, order, correct, restrain, or amend all errors, heresies, abuses,
offences, contempts, and enormities, which fell under any spiritual
authority or jurisdiction." The "Act of Succession" was also passed by
Parliament, cutting off Princess Mary and requiring all subjects to take
an oath of allegiance to Elizabeth.
It was now an act of treason to deny the king's supremacy. All persons
suspected of disloyalty were required to sign an oath of allegiance to
Henry, and to Elizabeth as his successor, and to acknowledge the
supremacy of the king in church and state. This resulted in the death of
some prominent men in the realm, among them Sir Thomas More. In the
preamble of the oath prescribed by law, the legality of the king's
marriage with Anne was asserted, thus implying that his former marriage
with Catharine was unlawful. More was willing to declare his allegiance
to the infant Elizabeth, as the king's successor, but his conscience
would not permit him to affirm that Catharine's marriage was unlawful.
The life of the brilliant and lovable More is another illustration of
the mental confusions and inconsistencies of that age. As an apostle of
culture he favored the new learning, and yet he viewed the gathering
momentum of reformatory principles with alarm, and cast in his lot with
the ultra-conservatives. Four years of his young manhood were spent in a
monastery. He devoted his splendid talents to a criticism of English
society, and recommended freedom of conscience, yet he became an ardent
foe of reform and even a persecutor of heretics, of whom he said: "I do
so detest that class of men that, unless they repent, I am the worst
enemy they have." When a man, whom even Protestant historians hasten to
pronounce "the glory of his age," so magnificent were his talents and so
blameless his character, was tainted with superstition, and sanctioned
the persecution of liberal thinkers, is it remarkable that inferior
intellects should have been swayed by the brutality and tyranny of
the times?
The unparalleled claims of Henry and his attitude toward the pope made
the breach between England and Rome complete, but many years of painful
internal strife and bloodshed were to elapse before the whole nation
submitted to the new order of things, and before that subjective freedom
from fear and superstition without which formal freedom has little
value, was secured.
The breach with Rome was essential to the attainment of that religious
and political freedom that England now enjoys. But the first step toward
making that separation an accomplished fact, acquiesced in by the people
as a whole, was to break the power of the monastic orders. It may
possibly be true that the same ends would have been eventually attained
by trusting to the slower processes of social evolution, but the history
of the Latin nations of Europe would seem to prove the contrary. As the
facts stand it would appear that peace and progress were impossible with
thousands of monks sowing seeds of discord, and employing every measure,
fair or foul, to win the country back to Rome. Gairdner and others
argue that Henry was far too powerful a king to have been successfully
resisted by the pope, unless the pope was backed by a union of the
Christian princes, which was then impracticable. That fact may make the
execution of More, Fisher and the Charterhouse monks inexcusable, but it
by no means proves that Henry would have been strong enough to maintain
his position if the monasteries had been permitted to exist as centers
of organized opposition to his will. Many of the monks, when pressed by
the king's agents, took the oath of allegiance. Threats, bribes and
violence were used to overcome the opposition of the unwilling.
_The Monks and the Oath of Supremacy_
It is quite evident that the king's purpose to destroy the whole
monastic institution was partly the result of the determined resistance
which the monks offered to his authority. The contest between the king
and the monks was exceedingly fierce and bloody. Many good men lost
their lives and many innocent persons suffered grievously. Perhaps the
most pathetic incident in the sanguinary struggle between the king and
the monks was the tragic fall of the Charterhouse of London. The facts
are given at length by Froude, in his "History of England," who bases
his account on the narrative of Maurice Channey, one of the monks who
escaped death by yielding to the king. The unhappy monk confesses that
he was a Judas among the apostles, and in a touching account of the ruin
that came upon his monastic retreat he praises the boldness and fidelity
of his companions, who preferred death to what seemed to them dishonor.
The pages of Channey are filled with the most improbable stories of
miracles, but his charming picture of the cloister life of the
Carthusians is doubtless true to reality. The Carthusian fathers were
the best fruit of monasticism in England. To a higher degree than any of
the other monastic orders they maintained a good discipline and
preserved the spirit of their founders. "A thousand years of the world's
history had rolled by," says Froude, "and these lonely islands of prayer
had remained still anchored in the stream; the strands of the ropes
which held them, wearing now to a thread, and very near their last
parting, but still unbroken." In view of the undisputed purity and
fearlessness of these noble monks, a recital of their woes will place
the case for the monastic institution in the most favorable light.
Channey says the year 1533 was ushered in with signs,--the end of the
world was nigh. Yes, the monk's world was drawing to a close; the moon,
for him, was turning into blood, and the stars falling from heaven.
More and Fisher were in the Tower. The former's splendid talents and
noble character still swayed the people. It was no time for trifling;
the Carthusian fathers must take the oath of allegiance or perish. So
one morning the royal commissioners appeared before the monastery door
of the Charterhouse to demand submission. Prior Houghton answered them:
"I know nothing of the matter mentioned; I am unacquainted with the
world without; my office is to minister to God, and to save poor souls
from Satan." He was committed to the Tower for one month. Then Dr.
Bonner persuaded the prior to sign with "certain reservations." He was
released and went back to his cloister-cell to weep. Calling his monks
together he said he was sorry; it looked like deceit, but he desired to
save his brethren and their order. The commissioners returned; the monks
were under suspicion; the reservations were disliked, and they must sign
without conditions. In great consternation the prior assembled the
monks. All present cried out: "Let us die together in our integrity, and
heaven and earth shall witness for us how unjustly we are cut off."
Prior Houghton conceived a generous idea. "If it depends on me alone; if
my oath will suffice for the house, I will throw myself on the mercy of
God; I will make myself anathema, and to preserve you from these
dangers, I will consent to the king's will." Thus did the noble old man
consent to go into heaven with a lie on his conscience, hoping to escape
by the mercy of God, because he sought to save the lives of his
brethren. But all this was of no avail; Cromwell had determined that
this monastery must fall, and fall it did. The monks prepared for their
end calmly and nobly; beginning with the oldest brother, they knelt
before each other and begged forgiveness for all unkindness and offence.
"Not less deserving," says Froude, "the everlasting remembrances of
mankind, than those three hundred, who, in the summer morning, sate
combing their golden hair in the passes of Thermopylæ." But rebellion
was blazing in Ireland, and the enemies of the king were praying and
plotting for his ruin. These monks, with More and Fisher, were an
inspiration to the enemies of liberty and the kingdom. Catholic Europe
crouched like a tiger ready to spring on her prostrate foe. It is sad,
but these recluses, praying for the pope, instilling a love for the
papacy in the confessional, these honest and conscientious but dangerous
men must be shorn of their power to encourage rebels. There was a farce
of a trial. Houghton was brought to the scaffold and died protesting his
innocence. His arm was cut off and hung over the archway of the
Charterhouse, as other arms and heads were hideously hanging over many a
monastic gate in Merry England. Nine of the monks died of prison fever,
and others were banished. The king's court went into mourning, and Henry
knotted his beard and henceforth would be no more shaven--eloquent
evidence to the world that whatever motive dominated the king's heart,
these bloody deeds were unpleasantly disturbing. Certainly such a
spectacle as that of a monk's arm nailed to a monastery was never seen
by Englishmen before.
The Charterhouse fell, let it be carefully noted, because the monks
could not and would not acknowledge the king's supremacy, and not
because the monks were immoral. Some spies in Cromwell's service offered
to, bring in evidence against six of these monks of "laziness and
immorality." Cromwell indignantly refused the proposal, saying, "He
would not hear the accusation; that it was false, wilfully so."
The news of these proceedings, and of the beheading of More and Fisher,
awakened the most violent rage throughout Catholic Europe. Henry was
denounced as the Nero of his times. Paul III. immediately excommunicated
the king, dissolved all leagues between Henry and the Catholic princes,
and gave his kingdom to any invader. All Catholic subjects were ordered
to take up arms against him. Although these censures were passed, the
pope decided to defer their publication, hoping for a peaceful
settlement. But Henry knew, and the Catholic princes of Europe knew,
that the blow might fall at any time. He had to make up his mind to go
further or to yield unconditionally to the pope. The world soon
discovered the temper of the enraged and stubborn monarch. He might
vacillate on speculative questions, but there were no tokens of feeble
hesitancy in his dealings with Rome. The hour of doom for the
monasteries had struck.
Having thus glanced at the character of Henry VIII., the prime mover in
the attack upon the monasteries, and having surveyed some of the events
leading up to their fall, we are now prepared to consider the actual
work of suppression, which will be described under the following heads:
First, The royal commissioners and their methods of investigation;
Second, The commissioners' report on the condition of affairs; Third,
The action of Parliament; Fourth, The effect of the suppression upon the
people; and Fifth, The use Henry made of the monastic possessions. These
matters having been set forth, it will then be in order to inquire into
the justification, real or alleged, of the suppression.
_The Royal Commissioners and Their Methods of Investigation_
The fall of Sir Thomas More left Thomas Cromwell the chief power under
the king, and for seven years he devoted his great administrative
abilities to making his royal patron absolute ruler in church and state.
Cromwell, Earl of Essex, was of lowly origin, but his energy and
shrewdness, together with the experience acquired by extensive travels,
commanded the attention of Cardinal Wolsey, who took him into his
service. He was successively merchant, scrivener, money-lender, lawyer,
member of parliament, master of jewels, chancellor, master of rolls,
secretary of state, vicar-general in ecclesiastical affairs, lord privy
seal, dean of Wells and high chamberlain.
Close intimacy with Wolsey enabled Cromwell to grasp the full
significance of Henry's ambition, and his desire to please his royal
master, coupled with his own love of power, prompted him to throw
himself with characteristic energy into the work of centralizing all
authority in the hands of the king and of his prime minister. In secular
affairs, this had already been accomplished. The task before him was to
subdue the church to the throne, to execute which he became the
protector of Protestantism and the foe of Rome. Green says: "He had an
absolute faith in the end he was pursuing, and he simply hews his way to
it, as a woodman hews his way through the forest, axe in hand." Froude
says: "To him ever belonged the rare privilege of genius to see what
other men could not see, and therefore he was condemned to rule a
generation which hated him, to do the will of God and to perish in his
success. He pursued an object, the excellence of which, as his mind saw
it, transcended all other considerations, the freedom of England and the
destruction of idolatry, and those who, from any motive, noble or base,
pious or impious, crossed his path, he crushed and passed on over
their bodies."
There seems to be a general agreement that Cromwell was not a
Protestant. His struggle against the temporal power of the pope fostered
the reformatory movement, but that did not make Cromwell a Protestant
any more than it did his master, Henry VIII. Foxe describes Cromwell "as
a valiant soldier and captain of Christ," but Maitland retorts "that
Foxe forgot, if he ever knew, who was the father of lies."
Without doubt Cromwell ruled with an iron hand. He was guilty of
accepting bribes, and, as some maintain, "was the great patron of
ribaldry, and the protector of the low jester and the filthy." But,
sadly enough, that is no serious charge against one in his times. It is
said that Henry used to say, when a knave was dealt to him in a game of
cards, "Ah, I have a Cromwell!" Francis Aidan Gasquet, a Benedictine
monk, in his valuable work on "Henry VIII. and the English Monasteries,"
says of Cromwell: "No single minister in England ever exercised such
extensive authority, none ever rose so rapidly, and no one has ever left
behind him a name covered with greater infamy and disgrace."
In 1535, Henry, as supreme head of the church, appointed Cromwell as his
"Vicegerent, Vicar-General and Principal Commissary in causes
ecclesiastical." His immediate duty was to enforce recognition of the
king's supremacy. The monks and the clergy were now to be coerced into
submission. A royal commission, consisting of Legh, Layton, Ap Rice,
London and various subordinates, was appointed to visit the monasteries
and to report on their condition.
Henry Griffin says in his chronicle: "I was well acquainted with all the
commissioners; indeed I knew them well; they were very smart men, who
understood the value of money, for they had tasted of adversity. I think
the priests were the worst of the whole party, although they had a good
reputation at the time, but they were wicked, deceitful men. I am sorry
to speak thus of my own order, but I speak God's truth." "It is a
dreadful undertaking," said Lord Clinton. "Ah! but I have great faith in
the tact and judgment of the men I am about to select,"
retorted Cromwell.
Dr. John London was a base tool of Cromwell, and a miserable exponent of
the reform movement. He joined Gardiner in burning heretics, was
convicted of adultery at Oxford, was pilloried for perjury and died in
jail. The other royal agents were also questionable characters. Dean
Layton wrote the most disgusting letters to Cromwell. Once he informed
his patron that he prayed regularly for him, prefacing this information
with the remark, "I will now tell you something to make you laugh."
Father Gasquet sums up his view of the commissioners in the words of
Edmund Burke: "It is not with much credulity that I listen to any when
they speak ill of those whom they are going to plunder. I rather suspect
that vices are feigned, or exaggerated, when profit is looked for in the
punishment--an enemy is a bad witness; a robber worse." Burke
indignantly declares: "The inquiry into the moral character of the
religious houses was a mere pretext, a complete delusion, an insidious
and predetermined foray of wholesale and heartless plunder."
Such are the protests from the defenders of the monasteries even before
a hearing is granted. "What," say they, "believe such perjurers,
adulterers and gamblers; men forsworn to bring in a bad report; men who
were selected because they were worthless characters who could be
relied on to return false charges against an institution loved by
the people?"
The commissioners began their work at Oxford, in September, 1535. The
work was vigorously pushed. On reaching the door of a monastery, they
demanded admittance; if it was not granted, they entered by breaking
down the gate with an axe. They then summoned the monks before them, and
plied them with questions. An inventory was taken of everything; nothing
escaped their searching eyes. When the king decided to suppress the
lesser monasteries, and ordered a new visitation of the larger ones,
they seized and sold all they could lay their hands on; "stained glass,
ironwork, bells, altar-cloths, candles, books, beads, images, capes,
brewing-tubs, brass bolts, spits for cooking, kitchen utensils, plates,
basins, all were turned into money." Many valuable books were destroyed;
jewels and gold and silver clasps were torn from old volumes, and the
paper sold as waste; parchment manuscripts were used to scour tubs and
grease boots. Out of the wreck about a hundred and thirty thousand
manuscripts have been saved. It must be admitted that the commissioners
were not delicate in their labors; that they insulted many nuns, robbed
the monks, violated the laws of decency and humanity, and needlessly
excited the rage of the people and outraged the religious sentiments of
the Catholics. They even used sacred altar-cloths for blankets on their
horses, and rode across the country decorated in priestly and monkish
garments. There seems to be some ground for the statement that Henry was
ignorant, or at least not fully informed, of their unwarranted violence
and gross sacrilege. The abbey of Glastonbury was one of the oldest and
finest cloisters in England. It was a majestic pile of buildings in the
midst of gardens and groves covering sixty acres; its aisles were vocal
with the chanting of monks, who marched in gorgeous processions among
the tall, gray pillars. The exterior of the buildings was profusely
decorated with sculpture; monarchs, temple knights, mitered abbots,
martyrs and apostles stood for centuries in their niches of stone while
princes came and passed away, while kingdoms rose and fell. The nobles
and bishops of the realm were laid to rest beneath the altars around
which many generations of monks had assembled to praise and to pray. The
royal commissioners one day appeared before the walls. The abbot,
Richard Whiting, who was then eighty-four years of age, was at
Sharphorn, another residence of the community. He was brought back and
questioned. At night when he was in bed, they searched his study for
letters and books, and they claimed to have found a manuscript of
Whiting's arguments against the divorce of the king and Queen Catharine;
it had never been published; they did not know whether the venerable
abbot had such intent or not. Stephen declares the spies themselves
brought the book into the library. However, the abbot was chained to a
cart and taken to London. The abbey had immense wealth; every Wednesday
and Friday it fed and lodged three hundred boys; it was esteemed very
highly in the neighborhood and received large donations from the knights
in the vicinity. The abbot was accused of treason for concealing the
sacred vessels; he was old, deaf, and sick, but was allowed no counsel.
He asked permission to take leave of his monks, and many little
orphans; Russell and Layton only laughed. The people heard of his
captivity and determined "to deliver or avenge" their favorite, but
Russell hanged half a dozen of them and declared that "law, order and
loyalty were vindicated." Whiting's body was quartered, and the pieces
sent to Wells, Bath, Chester and Bridgewater, while his head, adorned
with his gray hairs clotted by blood, was hung over the abbey gate.
_The Report of the Commissioners_
The original report of the commissioners does not exist. Burnet declares
that he saw an extract from it, concerning one hundred and forty-four
houses, which contained the most revolting revelations. Many of the
commissioners' letters and various documents touching the suppression
have been collected and published by the Camden Society. Waiving, for
the present, the inquiry into the truth of the report, it was in
substance as follows:
The commissioners reported about one-third of the houses to be fairly
well conducted, some of them models of excellent management and pure
living; but the other two-thirds were charged with looseness beyond
description. The number of inmates in some cloisters was kept below the
required number, that there might be more money to divide among the
monks. The number of servants sometimes exceeded that of the monks.
Abbots bought and sold land in a fraudulent manner; gifts for
hospitality were misapplied; licentiousness, gaming and drinking
prevailed extensively. Crime and absolution for gold went hand in hand.
One friar was said to have been the proud father of an illegitimate
family of children, but he had in his possession a forged license from
the pope, who permitted his wandering, "considering his frailty."
Froude, in commenting upon the report, says: "If I were to tell the
truth, I should have first to warn all modest eyes to close the book and
read no farther."
All sorts of pious frauds were revealed. At Hales the monks claimed to
have the blood of Christ brought from Jerusalem, and not visible to
anyone in mortal sin until he had performed good works, or, in other
words, paid enough for his absolution. Two monks took the blood of a
duck, which they renewed every week; this they put into a phial, one
side of which consisted of a thin, transparent crystal; the other thick
and opaque; the dark side was shown until the sinner's gold was
exhausted, when, presto! change, the blood appeared by turning the other
side of the phial. Innumerable toe-parings, bones, pieces of skin, three
heads of St. Ursula, and other anatomical relics of departed saints,
were said to cure every disease known to man. They had relics that could
drive away plagues, give rain, hinder weeds, and in fact, render the
natural world the plaything of decaying bones and shreds of dried skin.
The monks of Reading had an angel with one wing, who had preserved the
spear with which our Lord was pierced. Abbots were found to have
concubines in or near the monasteries; midnight revels and drunken
feasts were pleasant pastimes for monks weary with prayers and fasting.
While it would be unjust to argue that the existence of "pious frauds"
affords a justification for the suppression of the monasteries, it must
be remembered that they constituted one element in that condition of
ecclesiastical life that was becoming repugnant to the English people.
For several generations there had been a marked growth in the hostility
toward various forms of superstition. True, neither Henry nor Cromwell
can be accredited with the lofty intention of exterminating
superstition, but the attitude of many people toward "pious frauds"
helped to reconcile them to the destruction of the monasteries.
_The Action of Parliament_
The report of the commissioners was laid before Parliament in 1536. As
it declared that the smaller monasteries were more corrupt than the
larger ones, Parliament ordered the suppression of all those houses
whose revenues were less than two hundred pounds per annum. By this act,
three hundred and seventy-six houses were suppressed, whose aggregate
revenue was thirty-two thousand pounds yearly. Movable property valued
at about one hundred thousand pounds was also handed over to the "Court
of Augmentations of the King's Revenue," which was established to take
care of the estates, revenues and other possessions of the monasteries.
It is claimed that ten thousand monks and nuns were turned out into the
world, to find bed and board as best they could. In 1538, two years
later, the greater monasteries met a similar fate, which was no doubt
hastened by the rebellions that followed the abolition of the smaller
houses. Many of the abbots and monks were suspected of aiding in the
rebellion against the king's authority by inciting the people to take up
arms against him. Apprehending the coming doom, many abbots resigned;
others were overcome by threats and yielded without a struggle. In many
instances such monks received pensions varying from fifty-three
shillings and four pence to four pounds a year. The investigations were
constantly carried on, and all the foul stories that could be gathered
were given to the people, to secure their approval of the king's action.
With remorseless zeal the king and his commissioners, supported by
various acts of parliament, persevered in their work of destruction,
until even the monastic hospitals, chantries, free chapels and
collegiate churches, fell into the king's hands. By the year 1545, the
ruin was complete. The monastic institution of England was no more. The
total number of monasteries suppressed is variously estimated, but the
following figures are approximately correct: monasteries, 616; colleges,
90; free chapels, 2,374; and hospitals, 110. The annual income was about
one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, which was a smaller sum than was
then believed to be in the control of the monks. Nearly fifty thousand
persons were driven from the houses, to foment the discontent and to
arouse the pity of the people. Such, in brief, was the extent of the
suppression, but a little reflection will show that these statements of
cold facts convey no conception of the confusion and sorrow that must
have accompanied this terrific and wholesale assault upon an institution
that had been accumulating its possessions for eight hundred years. At
this distance from those tragic events, it is impossible to realize the
dismay of those who stood aghast at this ruthless destruction of such
venerable establishments.
_The Effect of the Suppression Upon the People_
For months the country had seen what was coming; letters from abbots and
priors poured in upon the king and parliament, begging them to spare the
ancient strongholds of religion. The churchmen argued: "If he plunders
the monasteries, will not his next step be to plunder the churches?"
They recalled what Sir Thomas More had said of their sovereign: "It is
true, his majesty is very gracious with me, but if only my head would
give him another castle in France, it would not be long before it
disappeared." Sympathy for the monks, an inborn conservatism, a natural
love for ancient institutions, a religious dread of trampling upon that
which was held sacred by the church, a secret antipathy to reform, all
these and other forces were against the suppression. But the report of
the visitors was appalling, and the fear of the king's displeasure was
widespread; so the bill was passed amid mingled feelings of joy,
sympathy, hatred, fear, anxiety and uncertainty. The bishops were
sullen; Latimer was disappointed, for he wanted the church to have
the proceeds.
Outside of Parliament there was much discontent among the nobles and
gentry of Roman tendencies. Even the indifferent felt bitter against the
king, because it seemed unjust that the monks, who had been sheltered,
honored and enriched by the people, should be so rudely and so suddenly
turned out of their possessions. A dangerously large portion of the
people felt themselves insulted and outraged. At first, however, there
were few who dared to voice their protests. "As the royal policy
disclosed itself," says Green, "as the monarchy trampled under foot the
tradition and reverence of ages gone by, as its figure rose, bare and
terrible, out of the wreck of old institutions, England simply held her
breath. It is only through the stray depositions of royal spies that we
catch a glimpse of the wrath and hate which lay seething under the
silence of the people." That silence was a silence of terror. To use the
figure by which Erasmus describes the time, men felt "as if a scorpion
lay sleeping under every stone." They stopped writing, gossiping, going
to confession, and sending presents for the most thoughtless word or
deed might be tortured into treason against the king by the command
of Cromwell.
The rebellion which followed the first attack upon the monasteries was
not caused wholly by religious sentiments. The nobles regarded Cromwell
as a base-born usurper and yearned for his fall, while the clergy felt
outraged by his monstrous claims of authority in ecclesiastical affairs.
In a sense the conflict that ensued was but a continuation of the
long-standing struggle between the king, the barons, and the clergy for
the supreme power. From the reign of Edward I., the people had commenced
to assert their rights and the struggle had become a four-sided one.
These four factions were constantly shifting their allegiance, according
to the varying conditions, and guided by their changing interests. At
this time, the clergy, the nobles and the people in northern England,
particularly, combined against the king, although the alliance was not
formidable enough to overcome the forces supporting the king.
The secular clergy felt that they were disgraced and coerced into
submission. They felt their revenues, their honors, their powers, their
glory, slipping away from them; they joined their mutterings and
discontent with that of the monks, and then the fires of the rebellion
blazed forth in the north, where the monasteries were more popular than
in any other part of England.
The first outbreak occurred in Lincolnshire, in the autumn of 1536. It
was easily and quickly suppressed. But another uprising in Yorkshire, in
northern England, followed immediately, and for a time threatened
serious consequences. Some of the best families in that part of the
country joined the revolt, although it is noteworthy that these same
families were afterwards Protestant and Puritan; the rebel army numbered
about forty thousand men, well equipped for service. Many prominent
abbots and sixteen hundred monks were in the ranks. The masses were
bound by oath "to stand together for the love which they bore to
Almighty God, His faith, the Holy Church, and the maintenance thereof;
to the preservation of the king's person and his issue; to the purifying
of the nobility, and to expel all villein blood and evil counsellors
from the king's presence; not from any private profit, nor to do his
pleasure to any private person, nor to slay or murder through envy, but
for the restitution of the Church, and the suppression of heretics and
their opinions." It is clear, from the language of the oath, that the
rebels aimed their blows at Cromwell. The secular clergy hated him
because he had shorn them of their power; the monks hated him because he
had turned them out of their cloisters, and clergy and people loathed
him as a maintainer of heresy, a low-born foe of the Church. The
insurgents carried banners on which was printed a crucifix, a chalice
and host, and the five wounds, hence they called themselves "Pilgrims of
Grace." The revolt was headed by Robert Aske, a barrister.
Cromwell acted most cautiously; he selected the strongest men to take
the field. Richard Cromwell said of one of them, Sir John Russell, "for
my lord admiral, he is so earnest in the matter that I dare say he could
eat the Pilgrims without salt." The Duke of Norfolk was entrusted with
the command of the king's forces.
Henry preferred negotiation to battle, in accepting which the rebels
were doomed. To wait was to fail. Their demands reduced to paper were:
1. The religious houses should be restored. 2. England should be
reunited with Rome. 3. The first fruits and tenths should not be paid to
the crown. 4. Heretics, meaning Cranmer, Latimer and others, should
cease to be bishops. 5. Catharine's daughter Mary should be restored as
heiress to the crown. These and other demands, the granting of which
would have meant the death of the Reformation, were firmly refused by
the king, who marveled that ignorant churls, "brutes and inexpert folk"
should talk of theological and political subjects to him and to
his council.
After several ineffectual attempts to meet the royal army in battle,
partly due to storms and lack of subsistence, the rebels were induced to
disperse and a general amnesty was declared. But new insurrections broke
out in various quarters, and the enraged king determined to stamp out
the smoldering fires of sedition. About seventy-five persons were
hanged, and many prominent men were imprisoned and afterwards executed.
This effectually suppressed the rebellion.
The revolt showed the strength of the opponents to the king's will, but
it also proved conclusively that the monarchy was the strongest power in
the realm; that the star of ecclesiastical domination had set forever in
England; that henceforth English kings and not Italian popes were to
govern the English people. True, the king was carrying things with a
high hand, but one reform at a time; the yoke of papal power must first
be lifted, even if at the same time the king becomes despotic in the
exercise of his increased power. Once free from Rome, constitutional
rights may be asserted and the power of an absolute monarchy judiciously
restricted.
Following the Pilgrimage of Grace came the complete overthrow of the
monastic system by the dissolution of the larger monasteries.
_Henry's Disposal of Monastic Revenues_
What use did Henry make of the revenues that fell into his hands? As
soon as the vast estates of the monks were under the king's control, he
was besieged by nobles, "praying for an estate." They kneeled before
him and specified what lands they wanted. They bribed Cromwell, who sold
many of the estates at the rate of a twenty years' purchase, and in some
instances presented valuable possessions to the king's followers. Many
families, powerful in England at the present time, date the beginning of
their wealth and position to the day when their ancestors received their
share of the king's plunder.
The following interesting passage from Sir Edward Coke's Institutes,
shows that Henry sought to quiet the fears of the people by making the
most captivating promises concerning the decrease of taxes, and other
magnificent schemes for the general welfare: "On the king's behalf, the
members of both houses were informed in Parliament that no king or
kingdom was safe but where the king had three abilities: 1. To live of
his own and able to defend his kingdom upon any sudden invasion or
insurrection. 2. To aid his confederates, otherwise they would never
assist him. 3. To reward his well-deserving servants. Now the project
was, that if Parliament would give unto him all the abbeys, priories,
friaries, nunneries, and other monasteries, that forever in time then
to come he would take order that the same should not be converted to
private uses, but first, that his exchequer, for the purpose aforesaid,
should be enriched; secondly, the kingdom should be strengthened by a
continual maintenance of forty thousand well-trained soldiers; thirdly,
for the benefit and ease of the subject, who never afterwards (as was
projected), in any time to come, should be charged with subsidies,
fifteenths, loans or other common aids; fourthly, lest the honor of the
realm should receive any diminution of honor by the dissolution of the
said monasteries, there being twenty-nine lords of Parliament of the
abbots and priors, ... that the king would create a number of nobles."
The king was granted the revenues of the monasteries. About half the
money was expended in coast defences and a new navy; and much of it was
lavished upon his courtiers. With the exception of small pensions to the
monks and the establishment of a few benefices, very little of the
splendid revenue was ever devoted to religious or educational purposes.
Small sums were set apart for Cambridge, Oxford and new grammar schools.
Not-withstanding the pensions, there was much suffering; it is said
many of the outcast monks and nuns starved and froze to death by the
roadside. Latimer and others wanted the king to employ the revenues for
religious purposes, but Henry evidently thought the church had enough
and refused. He did, however, intend to allot eighteen thousand pounds a
year for eighteen new bishoprics, but once the gold was in his
possession, his pious intentions suffered a decline, and he established
only six, with inferior endowments, five of which exist to-day.
_Was the Suppression Justifiable?_
It is quite common to restrict this inquiry to a consideration of the
report made by the commissioners against the monks, and to the methods
employed by them in their investigations. The implication is that if the
accusations against the monasteries can be discredited, or if it can be
shown that the motives of the destroyers were selfish and their methods
cruel, then it follows that the overthrow of the monasteries was a most
iniquitous and unwarrantable proceeding. Reflection will show that the
question cannot be so restricted. It may be found that the monastic
institution should have been destroyed, even though the charges against
the monks were grossly exaggerated, the motives of the king unworthy,
and the means he employed despicable.
At the outset a few facts deserve mention. It is usual for Protestants
to recall with pride the glorious heroism of Protestant martyrs, but it
should be remembered that Roman Catholicism also has had its martyrs.
Protestant powers have not been free from tyranny and bloodshed. That
noble spirit of self-sacrifice which has glorified many a character in
history is not to be despised in one who dies for what we may pronounce
to be false.
It must also be granted that the action of the king was not dictated by
a pure passion for religious reform. Indeed it is a fair question
whether Henry may be claimed by the Protestants at all. Aside from his
rejection of the pope's authority, he was thoroughly Catholic in
conviction and in practice. His impatience with the pope's position
respecting his divorce, his need of money, his love of power, and many
other personal considerations determined his attitude toward
the papacy.
It should also be freely conceded that the royal commissioners were far
from exemplary characters, and that they were often insolent and cruel
in the prosecution of their work.
"Our posterity," says John Bale, "may well curse this wicked fact of our
age; this unreasonable spoil of England's most noble antiquities." "On
the whole," says Blunt, "it may be said that we must ever look back on
that destruction as a series of transactions in which the sorrow, the
waste, the impiety that were wrought, were enough to make the angels
weep. It may be true that the monastic system had worn itself out for
practical good; or at least, that it was unfitted for those coming ages
which were to be so different from the ages that were past. But
slaughter, desecration and wanton destruction, were no remedies for its
sins, or its failings; nor was covetous rapacity the spirit of
reformation."
Hume observes that "during times of faction, especially of a religious
kind, no equity is to be expected from adversaries; and as it was known
that the king's intention in this visitation was to find a pretext for
abolishing the monasteries, we may naturally conclude that the reports
of the commissioners are very little to be relied upon." Hallam declares
that "it is impossible to feel too much indignation at the spirit in
which the proceedings were conducted."
But these and other just and honorable concessions in the interests of
truth, which are to be found on the pages of eminent Protestant
historians, are made to prove too much. It must be said that writers
favorable to monasticism take an unfair advantage of these admissions,
which simply testify to a spirit of candor and a love of truth, but do
not contain the final conclusions of these historians. Employing these
witnesses to confirm their opinions, the defenders of monasticism
proceed with fervid, glowing rhetoric, breathing devotion and love on
every page, to paint the sorrows and ruin of the Carthusian Fathers, and
the abbots of Glastonbury and Reading. They ask, "Is this your boasted
freedom, to slay these men in cold blood, not for immorality, but
because they honestly did not acknowledge what no Protestant of to-day
admits, viz.: that King Henry was the Supreme Head of the Church?"
Having pointed out the exaggerations in the charges against the monks
and having made us weep for the aged fathers of the Charterhouse, they
skillfully lead the unwary to the conclusion that the suppression should
never have taken place. This conclusion is illogical. The case is
still open.
Furthermore, if one cared to indulge in historical reminiscences, he
might justly express astonishment that Rome should object to an
investigation conducted by men whose minds were already made up, or that
she should complain because force was employed to carry out a needed
reform. Did the commissioners take a few altar-cloths and decorate their
horses? Did Rome never adorn men in garments of shame and parade them
through streets to be mocked by the populace, and finally burned at the
stake? Were the altar-cloths dear to Catholic hearts? Were not the
Bibles burned in France, in Germany, in Spain, in Holland, in England,
dear to the hearts of the reformers? But however justifiable such a line
of argument may be, there is little to be gained by charging the sins of
the past against the men of to-day. Nevertheless, if these facts and
many like them were remembered, less would be said about the cruelties
that accompanied the suppression of the monasteries.
Were the charges against the monks true? It seems impossible to doubt
that in the main they were, although it should be admitted that many
monasteries were beyond reproach. Eliminating gross exaggerations, lies
and calumnies, there still remains a body of evidence that compels the
verdict of guilt. The legislation of the church councils, the decrees of
popes, the records of the courts, the reports of investigating
committees appointed by various popes, the testimony of the orders
against each other, the chronicles, letters and other extant literature,
abound in such detailed, specific charges of monastic corruption that it
is simply preposterous to reject the testimony. All the efforts at
reformation, and they were many, had failed. Many bishops confessed
their inability to cope with the growing disorders. It is beyond
question that lay robbers were encouraged to perpetrate acts of
sacrilege because the monks were frequently guilty of forgery and
violence. Commenting upon the impression which monkish lawlessness must
have made upon the minds of such men as Wyclif, Pike says: "They saw
with their own eyes those wild and lawless scenes, the faint reflection
of which in contemporaneous documents may excite the wonder of modern
lawyers and modern moralists." The legislation of church and state for a
century before Henry VIII. shows that the monks were guilty of brawling,
frequenting taverns, indulging in licentious pleasures and upholding
unlawful games.
Bonaventura, the General of the Franciscan Order in its earliest days,
and its palmiest, for the first years of a monastic order were always
its best years--this mendicant, their pride and their glory, tells us
that within fifty years of the death of its founder there were many
mendicants roaming around in disorderly fashion, brazen and shameless
beggars of scandalous fame. This unenviable record was kept up down to
the days of Wyclif, who charged the begging friars with representing
themselves as holy and needy, while they were robust of body, rich in
possessions, and dwelt in splendid houses, where they gave sumptuous
banquets. What shall one say of the hysterical ravings against Henry of
the "Holy Maid of Kent," whose fits and predictions were palmed off by
five ecclesiastics, high in authority, as supernatural manifestations?
What must have been the state of monasteries in which such meretricious
schemes were hatched, to deceive silly people, thwart the king and stop
the movements for reform?
Moreover, the various attempts to reform or to suppress the monasteries
prior to Henry's time show he was simply carrying out what, in a small
way, had been attempted before. King John, Edward I. and Edward III.,
had confiscated "alien priories." Richard II. and Henry IV. had made
similar raids. In 1410, the House of Commons proposed the confiscation
of all the temporalities held by bishops, abbots and priors, that the
money might be used for a standing army, and to increase the income of
the nobles and secular clergy. It was not done, but the attempt shows
the trend of public opinion on the question of abolishing the
monasteries. In 1416, Parliament dissolved the alien priories and vested
their estates in the crown. There is extant a letter of Cardinal Morton,
Legate of the Apostolic See, and Archbishop of Canterbury, to the abbot
of St. Albans, one of the mightiest abbeys in all England. It was
written as the result of an investigation started by Innocent VIII., in
1489. In this communication the abbot and his monks were charged with
the grossest licentiousness, waste and thieving. Lina Eckenstein, in her
interesting work on "Woman Under Monasticism," says: "It were idle to
deny that the state of discipline in many houses was bad, but the
circumstances under which Morton's letter was penned argue that the
charges made in it should be accepted with some reservation." In 1523,
Cardinal Wolsey obtained bulls from the pope authorizing the suppression
of forty small monasteries, and the application of their revenues to
educational institutions, on the ground that the houses were homes
neither of religion nor of learning.
What Henry did, every country in Europe has felt called upon to do in
one way or another. Germany, Italy, Spain, France have all suppressed
monasteries, and despite the suffering which attended the dissolution in
England, the step was taken with less loss of life and less injury to
the industrial welfare of the people than anywhere else in Europe[J].
[Footnote J: Appendix, Note J.]
Hooper, who was made a bishop in the reign of Edward VI., expressed the
Protestant view of Henry's reforms in a letter written about the year
1546. "Our king," he says, "has destroyed the pope, but not popery....
The impious mass, the most shameful celibacy of the clergy, the
invocation of saints, auricular confession, superstitious abstinence
from meats, and purgatory, were never before held by the people in
greater esteem than at the present moment." In other words, the
independence of the Church of England was secured by those who, if they
were not Roman Catholics, were certainly closer in faith to Rome than
they were to Protestantism. The Protestant doctrines did not become the
doctrines of the Church of England until the reign of Edward VI., and it
was many years after that before the separation from Rome was complete
in doctrine as well as respects the authority of the pope.
These facts indicate that there must have been other causes for the
success of the English Reformation than the greed or ambition of the
monarch. Those causes are easily discovered. One of them was the
hostility of the people to the alien priories. The origin of the alien
priories dates back to the Norman conquest. The Normans shared the
spoils of their victory with their continental friends. English
monasteries and churches were given to foreigners, who collected the
rents and other kinds of income. These foreign prelates had no other
interest in England than to derive all the profit they could from their
possessions. They appointed whom they pleased to live in their houses,
and the monks, being far away from their superiors, became a source of
constant annoyance to the English people. The struggle against these
alien priories had been carried on for many years, and so many of them
had been abolished that the people became accustomed to the seizure of
monasteries.
Large sums of money were annually paid to the pope, and the English
people were loudly complaining of the constant drain on their resources.
It was a common saying in the reign of Henry III., that "England is the
pope's farm." The "Good Parliament," in 1376, affirmed "that the taxes
paid to the church of Rome amounted to five times as much as those
levied for the king; ... that the brokers of the sinful city of Rome
promoted for money unlearned and unworthy caitiffs to benefices of the
value of a thousand marks, while the poor and learned hardly obtain one
of twenty." Various laws, heartily supported by the clergy as well as by
the civil authorities, were enacted from time to time, aimed at the
abuses of papal power. So steadfast and strong was the opposition to the
interference of foreigners in English affairs, it would be possible to
show that there was an evolution in the struggle against Rome that was
certain to culminate in the separation, whether Henry had accomplished
it or not. What might have occurred if the monks had reformed and the
pope withdrawn his claims it is impossible to know. The fact is that the
monks grew worse instead of better, and the arrogance of foreigners
became more unendurable. "The corruption of the church establishment, in
fact," says Lea, "had reached a point which the dawning enlightenment of
the age could not much longer endure.... Intoxicated with centuries of
domination, the muttered thunders of growing popular discontent were
unheeded, and its claims to spiritual and temporal authority were
asserted with increasing vehemence, while its corruptions were daily
displayed before the people with more careless cynicism." In view of
this condition of affairs, the existence of which even the adherents of
modern Rome must acknowledge, one cannot but wonder that the ruin of the
monasteries should be attributed to Henry's desire "to overthrow the
rights of women, to degrade matrimony and to practice concubinage." Such
an explanation is too superficial; it ignores a multitude of
historical facts.
The monasteries had to fall if England was to be saved from the horrors
of civil war, if the hand of the pope was to remain uplifted from her,
if the insecure gains of the Reformation were to become established and
glorious achievements; if, in fact, all those benefits accompanying
human progress were to become the heritage of succeeding ages.
Whatever benefits the monks had conferred upon mankind, and these were
neither few nor slight, they had become fetters on the advancement of
freedom, education and true religion. They were the standing army of the
pope, occupying the last and strongest citadel. They were the unyielding
advocates of an ideal that was passing away. It was sad to see the
Carthusian house fall, but in spite of the high character of its
inmates, it was a part of an institution that stood for the right of
foreigners to rule England. It was unfortunate they had thrown
themselves down before the car of progress but there they were; they
would not get up; the car must roll on, for so God himself had decreed,
and hence they were crushed in its advance. Their martyrdom was truly a
poor return for their virtues, but there never has been a moral or
political revolution that has furthered the general well-being of
humanity, in which just and good men have not suffered. It would be
delightful if freedom and progress could be secured, and effete
institutions destroyed or reformed, without the accompaniment of
disaster and death, but it is not so.
The monks stood for opposition to reform, and therefore came into direct
conflict with the king, who was blindly groping his way toward the
future, and who was, in fact, the unconscious agent of many reform
forces that concentrated in him. He did not comprehend the significance
of his proceedings. He did not take up the cause of the English people
with the pure and intelligent motive of encouraging free thought and
free religion. He did not realize that he was leading the mighty army of
Protestant reformers. He little dreamed that the people whose cause he
championed would in turn assert their rights and make it impossible for
an English sovereign to enjoy the absolute authority which he wielded.
Truly "there is a power, not ourselves," making for freedom, progress
and truth.
Thus a number of causes brought on the ruin of the monasteries. Henry's
need of money; the refusal of the monks to sign the acts of supremacy
and succession; the general drift of reform, and the iniquity of the
monks. They fell from natural causes and through the operation of laws
which God alone controls. As Hill neatly puts it, "Monasticism was
healthy, active and vigorous; it became idle, listless and extravagant;
it engendered its own corruption, and out of that corruption
came death."
Richard Bagot, a Catholic, in a recent article on the question, "Will
England become Catholic?" which was published in the "Nuova Antologia,"
says: "Though it is impossible not to blame the so-called Reformers for
the acts of sacrilege and barbarism through which they obtained the
religious and political liberty so necessary to the intellectual and
social progress of the race, it cannot be denied that no sooner had the
power of the papacy come to an end in England than the English nation
entered upon that free development which has at last brought it to its
present position among the other nations of the world." Mr. Bagot also
admits that "the political intrigues and insatiable ambition of the
papacy during the succeeding centuries constituted a perpetual menace
to England."
The true view, therefore, is that two types of religious and political
life, two epochs of human history, met in Henry's reign. The king and
the pope were the exponents of conflicting ideals. The fall of the
monasteries was an incident in the struggle. "The Catholics," says
Froude, "had chosen the alternative, either to crush the free thought
which was bursting from the soil, or to be crushed by it; and the future
of the world could not be sacrificed to preserve the exotic graces of
medieval saints."
The problem is reduced to this, Was the Reformation desirable? Is
Protestantism a curse or a blessing? Would England and the world be
better off under the sway of medieval religion than under the influence
of modern Protestantism? If monasticism were a fetter on human liberty
and industry, if the monasteries were "so many seminaries of
superstition and of folly," there was but one thing to do--to break the
fetters and to destroy the monasteries. To have succeeded in so radical
a reform as that begun by King Henry, with forty thousand monks
preaching treason, would have been an impossibility. Henry cannot be
blamed because the monks chose to entangle themselves with politics and
to side with Rome as against the English nation.
_Results of the Dissolution_
Many important results followed the fall of the monasteries. The
majority of the House of Lords was now transferred from the abbots to
the lay peers. The secular clergy, who had been fighting the monks for
centuries, were at last accorded their proper standing in the church.
Numerous unjust ecclesiastical privileges were swept aside, and in many
respects the whole church was strengthened and purified. Credulity and
superstition began to decline. Ecclesiastical criminals were no longer
able to escape the just penalty for their crimes. Naturally all these
beneficent ends were not attained immediately. For a while there was
great disorder and distress. Society was disturbed not only by the
stoppage of monastic alms-giving, but the wandering monks, unaccustomed
to toil and without a trade, increased the confusion.
In this connection it is well to point out that some writers make very
much of the poverty relieved by the monks, and claim that the nobles,
into whose hands the monastic lands fell, did almost nothing to mitigate
the distresses of the unfortunate. But they ignore the fact that a blind
and undiscriminating charity was the cause, and not the cure, of much of
the miserable wretchedness of the poor. Modern society has learned that
the monastic method is wholly wrong; that fraud and laziness are
fostered by a wholesale distribution of doles. The true way to help the
poor is to enable the poor to assist themselves; to teach them trades
and give them work. The sociological methods of to-day are thoroughly
anti-monastic.
On the other hand, the infidel Zosimus, quoted by Gibbon, was not far
wrong when he said "the monks robbed an empire to help a few beggars."
The fact that the religious houses did distribute alms and entertain
strangers is not disputed; indeed it is pleasant to reflect upon this
noble charity of the monks; it is a bright spot in their history. But it
is in no sense true that they deserve all the credit for relieving
distress. They received the money for alms in the shape of rents, gifts
and other kinds of income. Hallam says, "There can be no doubt that many
of the impotent poor derived support from their charity. But the blind
eleemosynary spirit inculcated by the Romish church is notoriously the
cause, not the cure, of beggary and wickedness. The monastic
foundations, scattered in different countries, could never answer the
ends of local and limited succor. Their gates might, indeed, be open to
those who knocked at them for alms.... Nothing could have a stronger
tendency to promote that vagabond mendicity which severe statutes were
enacted to repress."
It seems almost ungracious to quote such an observation, because it may
be distorted into a criticism of charity itself, or made to serve the
purposes of certain anti-Romanists who cannot even spare those noble
women who minister to the sick in the home or hospital from their
bigoted criticisms. Small indeed must be the soul of that man who
permits his religious opinions to blind his eyes to the inestimable
services of those heroic and self-sacrificing women. But even Roman
Catholic students of social problems must recognize the folly of
indiscriminate alms-giving. "In proportion as justice between man and
man has declined, that form of charity which consists in giving money
has been more quickened." The promotion of industry, the repression of
injustice, the encouragement of self-reliance and thrift, are needed far
more than the temporary relief of those who suffer from oppression or
from their own wrong-doing.
Some of those who deplore the fall of the monasteries make much of the
fact that the modern world is menaced by materialism. "With very rare
exceptions," cries Maitre, a French Catholic, "the most undisguised
materialism has everywhere replaced the lessons and recollections of the
spiritual life. The shrill voice of machinery, the grinding of the saw
or the monotonous clank of the piston, is heard now, where once were
heard chants and prayers and confessions. Once the monk freely undid
the door to let the stranger in, and now we see a sign, 'no admittance,'
lest a greedy rival purloin the tricks of trade." Montalembert,
referring to the ruin of the cloisters in France, grieves thus:
"Sometimes the spinning-wheel is installed under the ancient sanctuary.
Instead of echoing night and day the praises of God, these dishonored
arches too often repeat only the blasphemies of obscene cries." The
element of truth in these laments gives them their sting, but one should
beware of the fervid rhetoric of the worshipers of medievalism. This
century is nobler, purer, truer, manlier, and more humane than any of
the centuries that saw the greatest triumphs of the monks. They, too,
had their blasphemies, often under the cloak of piety; they, too, had
their obscene cries. Their superstitions and frauds concealed beneath
those "dishonored arches" were infinitely worse than the noise of
machinery weaving garments for the poor, or producing household comforts
to increase the happiness of the humblest man.
There is much that is out of joint, much to justify doleful prophecies,
in the social and religious conditions of the present age, but the
signs of the times are not all ominous. At all events, nothing would be
gained by a return to the monkish ideals of the past. The hope of the
world lies in the further development and completer realization of those
great principles of human freedom that distinguish this century from the
past. The history of monasticism clearly shows that the monasteries
could not minister to that development of liberty, truth and justice,
which constitute the indispensable condition of human happiness and
human progress. Unable to adjust themselves to the new age, unwilling to
welcome the new light, rejecting the doctrine of individual freedom, the
monks were forced to retire from the field.
So fell in England that institution which, for twelve centuries, had
exercised marvelous dominion over the spiritual and temporal interests
of the continent, and for eight hundred years had suffered or thrived on
English soil. "The day came, and that a drear winter day, when its last
mass was sung, its last censer waved, its last congregation bent in rapt
and lovely adoration before the altar." Its majestic and solemn ruins
proclaim its departed grandeur. Its deeds of mercy, its conflicts with
kings and bishops, its prayers and chants and penances, its virtues and
its vices, its trials and its victories, its wealth and its poverty, all
are gone. Silence and death keep united watch over cloister and tomb. We
should be ungrateful if we forgot its blessings; we should be untrue if,
ignoring its evils, we sought to bring back to life that which God has
laid in the sepulcher of the dead.
"Where pleasant was the spot for men to dwell,
Amid its fair broad lands the abbey lay,
Sheltering dark orgies that were shame to tell,
And cowled and barefoot beggars swarmed the way,
All in their convent weeds of black, and white, and gray.
From many a proud monastic pile, o'erthrown,
Fear-struck, the brooded inmates rushed and fled;
The web, that for a thousand years had grown
O'er prostrate Europe, in that day of dread
Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread."
--_Bryant_.