CHAPTER XXXI.

HENRY VIII.

{1534.} The ancient and almost uninterrupted opposition of interests

between the laity and clergy in England, and between the English clergy

and the court of Rome, had sufficiently prepared the nation for a breach

with the sovereign pontiff; and men had penetration enough to discover

abuses which were plainly calculated for the temporal advantages of the

hierarchy, and which they found destructive of their own. These subjects

seemed proportioned to human understanding; and even the people, who

felt the power of interest in their own breasts, could perceive the

purpose of those numerous inventions which the interested spirit of

the Roman pontiff had introduced into religion. But when the reformers

proceeded thence to dispute concerning the nature of the sacraments, the

operations of grace, the terms of acceptance with the Deity, men were

thrown into amazement, and were, during some time, at a loss how to

choose their party. The profound ignorance in which both the clergy and

laity formerly lived, and their freedom from theological altercations,

had produced a sincere but indolent acquiescence in received opinions;

and the multitude were neither attached to them by topics of reasoning,

nor by those prejudices and antipathies against opponents, which

have ever a more natural and powerful influence over them. As soon,

therefore, as a new opinion was advanced, supported by such an authority

as to call up their attention, they felt their capacity totally unfitted

for such disquisitions; and they perpetually fluctuated between the

contending parties. Hence the quick and violent movements by which the

people were agitated, even in the most opposite directions: hence their

seeming prostitution, in sacrificing to present power the most sacred

principles: and hence the rapid progress during some time, and the

sudden as well as entire check soon after, of the new doctrines. When

men were once settled in their particular sects, and had fortified

themselves in an habitual detestation of those who were denominated

heretics, they adhered with more obstinacy to the principles of their

education; and the limits of the two religions thenceforth remained

fixed and unchangeable.

Nothing more forwarded the first progress of the reformers, than the

offer which they made of submitting all religious doctrines to private

judgment, and the summons given every one to examine the principles

formerly imposed upon him. Though the multitude were totally unqualified

for this undertaking, they yet were highly pleased with it. They fancied

that they were exercising their judgment, while they opposed to the

prejudices of ancient authority more powerful prejudices of another

kind. The novelty itself of the doctrines; the pleasure of an imaginary

triumph in dispute; the fervent zeal of the reformed preachers; their

patience, and even alacrity, in suffering persecution, death,

and torments; a disgust at the restraints of the old religion;

an indignation against the tyranny and interested spirit of the

ecclesiastics; these motives were prevalent with the people, and by such

considerations were men so generally induced, during that age, to throw

off the religion of their ancestors.

But in proportion as the practice of submitting religion to private

judgment was acceptable to the people, it appeared in some respects

dangerous to the rights of sovereigns, and seemed to destroy that

implicit obedience on which the authority of the civil magistrate

is chiefly founded. The very precedent of shaking so ancient and

deep-founded an establishment as that of the Romish hierarchy, might, it

was apprehended, prepare the way for other innovations. The republican

spirit which naturally took place among the reformers, increased this

jealousy. The furious insurrections of the populace, excited by Muncer

and other Anabaptists in Germany,[*] furnished a new pretence for

decrying the reformation. Nor ought we to conclude, because Protestants

in our time prove as dutiful subjects as those of any other communion,

that therefore such apprehensions were altogether without any shadow of

plausibility. Though the liberty of private judgment be tendered to the

disciples of the reformation, it is not in reality accepted of; and men

are generally contented to acquiesce implicitly in those establishments,

however new, into which their early education has thrown them.

* Sleidan, lib. iv. and v.

No prince in Europe was possessed of such absolute authority as Henry,

not even the pope himself, in his own capital, where he united both the

civil and ecclesiastical powers; [*] [9] and there was small likelihood,

that any doctrine which lay under the imputation of encouraging sedition

could ever pretend to his favor and countenance.

* See note I, at the end of the volume.

But besides this political jealousy, there was another reason which

inspired this imperious monarch with an aversion to the reformers. He

had early declared his sentiments against Luther; and having entered the

lists in those scholastic quarrels, he had received from his courtiers

and theologians infinite applause for his performance. Elated by this

imaginary success, and blinded by a natural arrogance and obstinacy of

temper, he had entertained the most lofty opinion of his own erudition;

and he received with impatience, mixed with contempt, any contradiction

to his sentiments. Luther also had been so imprudent as to treat in a

very indecent manner his royal antagonist; and though he afterwards made

the most humble submissions to Henry, and apologized for the vehemence

of his former expressions, he never could efface the hatred which the

king had conceived against him and his doctrines. The idea of heresy

still appeared detestable as well as formidable to that prince;

and whilst his resentment against the see of Rome had corrected one

considerable part of his early prejudices, he had made it a point of

honor never to relinquish the remainder. Separate as he stood from the

Catholic church, and from the Roman pontiff, the head of it, he still

valued himself on maintaining the Catholic doctrine, and or guarding, by

fire and sword, the imagined purity of his speculative principles.

Henry’s ministers and courtiers were of as motley a character as his

conduct; and seemed to waver, during this whole reign, between the

ancient and the new religion. The queen, engaged by interest as well

as inclination, favored the cause of the reformers: Cromwell, who was

created secretary of state, and who was daily advancing in the king’s

confidence, had embraced the same views; and as he was a man of prudence

and abilities, he was able, very effectually, though in a covert manner,

to promote the late innovations: Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury,

had secretly adopted the Protestant tenets; and he had gained Henry’s

friendship by his candor and sincerity; virtues which he possessed in

as eminent a degree as those times, equally distracted with faction and

oppressed by tyranny, could easily permit. On the other hand, the duke

of Norfolk adhered to the ancient faith, and by his high rank, as well

as by his talents, both for peace and war, he had great authority in

the king’s council: Gardiner, lately created bishop of Winchester, had

enlisted himself in the same party; and the suppleness of his character,

and dexterity of his conduct, had rendered him extremely useful to it.

All these ministers, while they stood in the most irreconcilable

opposition of principles to each other, were obliged to disguise

their particular opinions, and to pretend an entire agreement with

the sentiments of their master. Cromwell and Cranmer still carried the

appearance of a conformity to the ancient speculative tenets; but they

artfully made use of Henry’s resentment to widen the breach with the see

of Rome. Norfolk and Gardiner feigned an assent to the king’s supremacy,

and to his renunciation of the sovereign pontiff; but they encouraged

his passion for the Catholic faith, and instigated him to punish those

daring heretics who had presumed to reject his theological principles.

Both sides hoped, by their unlimited compliance, to bring him over

to their party: the king, meanwhile, who held the balance between the

factions, was enabled, by the courtship paid him both by Protestants

and Catholics, to assume an unbounded authority: and though in all

his measures he was really driven by his ungoverned humor, he casually

steered a course which led more certainly to arbitrary power, than any

which the most profound politics could have traced out to him. Artifice,

refinement, and hypocrisy, in his situation, would have put both parties

on their guard against him, and would have taught them reserve in

complying with a monarch whom they could never hope thoroughly to have

gained;* but while the frankness, sincerity, and openness of Henry’s

temper were generally known, as well as the dominion of his furious

passions, each side dreaded to lose him by the smallest opposition, and

flattered themselves that a blind compliance with his will would throw

him cordially and fully into their interests.

The ambiguity of the king’s conduct, though it kept the courtiers in

awe, served, in the main, to encourage the Protestant doctrine among his

subjects, and promoted that spirit of innovation with which the age was

generally seized, and which nothing but an entire uniformity, as will as

a steady severity in the administration, could be able to repress.

There were some Englishmen, Tindal, Joye, Constantine, and others, who,

dreading the exertion of the king’s authority had fled to Antwerp;[*]

where the great privileges possessed by the Low Country provinces

served, during some time, to give them protection. These men employed

themselves in writing English books against the corruptions of the

church of Rome; against images, relics, pilgrimages; and they excited

the curiosity of men with regard to that question, the most important in

theology, the terms of acceptance with the Supreme Being, In conformity

to the Lutherans and other Protestants, they asserted that salvation

was obtained by faith alone; and that the most infallible road to

perdition[**] was a reliance on “good works;” by which terms they

understood as well the moral duties as the ceremonial and monastic

observances.

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 159.

** Sacrilegium est et impietas velle placere Deo per opera

et non per solam fidem. Luther adversus regem. Ita vides

quam dives sit homo Christianus sive baptizatus, qui etiam

volens non protest perdere salutem suam quantiscunque

peccatis. Nulla enim peccata possunt eum damnare nisi

incredulitas. Id. de Captivitate Bábyloniea.

The defenders of the ancient religion, on the other hand, maintained

the efficacy of good works; but though they did not exclude from this

appellation the social virtues, it was still the superstitions gainful

to the church which they chiefly extolled and recommended. The books

composed by these fugitives, having stolen over to England, began to

make converts every where; but it was a translation of the Scriptures

by Tindal that was esteemed the most dangerous to the established faith.

The first edition of this work, composed with little accuracy, was found

liable to considerable objections; and Tindal, who was poor, and could

not afford to lose a great part of the impression, was longing for

an opportunity of correcting his errors, of which he had been made

sensible. Tonstal, then bishop of London, soon after of Durham, a man of

great moderation, being desirous to discourage, in the gentlest manner,

these innovations, gave private orders for buying up all the copies that

could be found at Antwerp; and he burned them publicly in Cheapside. By

this measure he supplied Tindal with money, enabled him to print a new

and correct edition of his work, and gave great scandal to the people,

in thus committing to the flames the word of God.[*]

The disciples of the reformation met with little severity during the

ministry of Wolsey, who, though himself a clergyman, bore too small a

regard to the ecclesiastical order to serve as an instrument of their

tyranny: it was even an article of impeachment against him,[**] that by

his connivance he had encouraged the growth of heresy, and that he had

protected and acquitted some notorious offenders. Sir Thomas More,

who succeeded Wolsey as chancellor, is at once an object deserving our

compassion, and an instance of the usual progress of men’s sentiments

during that age. This man, whose elegant genius and familiar

acquaintance with the noble spirit of antiquity had given him very

enlarged sentiments, and who had in his early years advanced principles

which even at present would be deemed somewhat too free, had, in the

course of events, been so irritated by polemics, and thrown into such a

superstitious attachment to the ancient faith, that few inquisitors have

been guilty of greater violence in their prosecution of heresy. Though

adorned with the gentlest manners, as well as the purest integrity,

he carried to the utmost height his aversion to heterodoxy; and James

Bainham, in particular, a gentleman of the Temple, experienced from him

the greatest severity. Bainham, accused of favoring the new opinions,

was carried to More’s house; and having refused to discover his

accomplices, the chancellor ordered him to be whipped in his presence,

and afterwards sent him to the Tower, where he himself saw him put to

the torture. The unhappy gentleman, overcome by all these severities,

abjured his opinions; but feeling afterwards the deepest compunction for

his apostasy, he openly returned to his former tenets, and even courted

the crown of martyrdom. He was condemned as an obstinate and relapsed

heretic, and was burned in Smithfîeld.[***]

* Hall. fol. 186. Fox, vol. i. p. 138. Burnet, vol. i p.

159.

** Articles of impeachment in Herbert. Burnet.

*** Fox. Burnet, vol i. p. 165.

Many were brought into the bishops’ courts for offences which appear

trivial, but which were regarded as symbols of the party: some for

teaching their children the Lord’s prayer in English; others for reading

the New Testament in that language, or for speaking against pilgrimages.

To harbor the persecuted preachers, to neglect the fasts of the church,

to declaim against the vices of the clergy, were capital offences. One

Thomas Bilney, a priest, who had embraced the new doctrine, had been

terrified into an abjuration; but was so haunted by remorse, that his

friends dreaded some fatal effects of his despair. At last, his mind

seemed to be more relieved; but this appearing calm proceeded only from

the resolution which he had taken of expiating his past offence by

an open confession of the truth, and by dying a martyr to it. He went

through Norfolk, teaching the people to beware of idolatry, and of

trusting for their salvation either to pilgrimages, or to the cowl of

St. Francis, to the prayers of the saints, or to images. He was soon

seized, tried in the bishop’s court, and condemned as a relapsed

heretic; and the writ was sent down to burn him. When brought to the

stake, he discovered such patience, fortitude, and devotion, that the

spectators were much affected with the horrors of his punishment; and

some mendicant friars who were present, fearing that his martyrdom would

be imputed to them, and make them lose those alms which they received

from the charity of the people, desired him publicly to acquit them[*]

of having any hand in his death. He willingly complied; and by this

meekness gained the more on the sympathy of the people.

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 164.

Another person, still more heroic, being brought to the stake for

denying the real presence, seemed almost in a transport of joy; and he

tenderly embraced the fagots which were to be the instruments of his

punishment, as the means of procuring him eternal rest. In short, the

tide turning towards the new doctrine, those severe executions, which,

in another disposition of men’s minds, would have sufficed to suppress

it, now served only to diffuse it the more among the people, and to

inspire them with horror against the unrelenting persecutors.

But though Henry neglected not to punish the Protestant doctrine, which

he deemed heresy, his most formidable enemies, he knew, were the zealous

adherents to the ancient religion, chiefly the monks, who, having their

immediate dependence on the Roman pontiff, apprehended their own ruin

to be the certain consequence of abolishing his authority in England.

Peyto, a friar, preaching before the king, had the assurance to tell

him, “that many lying prophets had deceived him; but he, as a true

Micajah, warned him, that the dogs would lick his blood, as they had

done Ahab’s.”[*] The king took no notice of the insult; but allowed

the preacher to depart in peace. Next Sunday he employed Dr. Corren to

preach before him; who justified the king’s proceedings, and gave Peyto

the appellations of a rebel, a slanderer, a dog, and a traitor. Elston,

another friar of the same house, interrupted the preacher, and told

him that he was one of the lying prophets, who sought to establish by

adultery the succession of the crown; but that he himself would justify

all that Peyto had said. Henry silenced the petulant friar; but showed

no other mark of resentment than ordering Peyto and him to be summoned

before the council, and to be rebuked for their offence.[**] He even

here bore patiently some new instances of their obstinacy and arrogance:

when the earl of Essex, a privy councillor, told them that they deserved

for their offence to be thrown into the Thames, Elston replied that the

road to heaven lay as near by water as by land.[***]

* Strype, vol. i. p. 167.

** Collier, vol. ii. p. 86. Burnet, vol. i. p. 151.

*** Stowe, p. 562

But several monks were detected in a conspiracy, which, as it might have

proved more dangerous to the king, was on its discovery attended with

more fatal consequences to themselves. Elizabeth Barton, of Aldington,

in Kent, commonly called the “holy maid of Kent,” had been subject to

hysterical fits, which threw her body into unusual convulsions; and

having produced an equal disorder in her mind, made her utter strange

sayings, which, as she was scarcely conscious of them during the time,

had soon after entirely escaped her memory. The silly people in the

neighborhood were struck with these appearances, which they imagined to

be supernatural; and Richard Masters, vicar of the parish, a designing

fellow, founded on them a project, from which he hoped to acquire both

profit and consideration. He went to Warham, archbishop of Canterbury,

then alive; and having given him an account of Elizabeth’s revelations,

he so far wrought on that prudent but superstitious prelate, as to

receive orders from him to watch her in her trances, and carefully to

note down all her future sayings. The regard paid her by a person of so

high a rank, soon rendered her still more the object of attention to the

neighborhood; and it was easy for Masters to persuade them, as well as

the maid herself, that her ravings were inspirations of the Holy Ghost.

Knavery, as is usual, soon after succeeding to delusion, she learned to

counterfeit trances and she then uttered, in an extraordinary tone,

such speeches as were dictated to her by her spiritual director. Masters

associated with him Dr. Bocking, a canon of Canterbury; and their design

was to raise the credit of an image of the Virgin which stood in a

chapel belonging to Masters, and to draw to it such pilgrimages as

usually frequented the more famous images and relics. In prosecution of

this design, Elizabeth pretended revelations which directed her to have

recourse to that image for a cure; and being brought before it, in the

presence of a great multitude, she fell anew into convulsions: and

after distorting her limbs and countenance during a competent time, she

affected to have obtained a perfect recovery by the intercession of the

Virgin.[*] This miracle was soon bruited abroad; and the two priests,

finding the imposture to succeed beyond their own expectations, began

to extend their views, and to lay the foundation of more important

enterprises. They taught their penitent to declaim against the new

doctrines, which she denominated heresy; against innovations in

ecclesiastical government; and against the king’s intended divorce from

Catharine. She went so far as to assert, that if he prosecuted that

design, and married another, he should not be a king a month longer, and

should not an hour longer enjoy the favor of the Almighty, but should

die the death of a villain. Many monks throughout England, either from

folly or roguery, or from faction, which is often a complication of

both, entered into the delusion; and one Deering, a friar, wrote a book

of the revelations and prophecies of Elizabeth.[**] Miracles were daily

added to increase the wonder; and the pulpit every where resounded

with accounts of the sanctity and inspirations of the new prophetess.

Messages were carried from her to Queen Catharine, by which that

princess was exhorted to persist in her opposition to the divorce; the

pope’s ambassadors gave encouragement to the popular credulity; and even

Fisher, bishop of Rochester, though a man of sense and learning, was

carried away by an opinion so favorable to the party which he had

espoused.[***]

* Stowe, p. 570. Blanquet’s Epitome of Chronicler.

** Strype, vol. i. p. 181.

*** Collier, vol. ii. p. 87

The king at last began to think the matter worthy of his attention; and

having ordered Elizabeth and her accomplices to be arrested, he brought

them before the star chamber, where they freely, without being put

to the torture made confession of their guilt. The parliament, in the

session held the beginning of this year, passed an act of attainder

against some who were engaged in this treasonable imposture,[*] and

Elizabeth herself, Masters, Bocking, Deering, Rich, Risby, Gold,

suffered for their crime. The bishop of Rochester, Abel, Addison,

Lawrence, and others were condemned for misprision of treason; because

they had not discovered some criminal speeches which they heard from

Elizabeth;[**] and they were thrown into prison. The better to undeceive

the multitude, the forgery of many of the prophetess’s miracles was

detected; and even the scandalous prostitution of her manners was

laid open to the public. Those passions which so naturally insinuate

themselves amidst the warm intimacies maintained by the devotees of

different sexes, had taken place between Elizabeth and her confederates;

and it was found that a door to her dormitory, which was said to have

been miraculously opened, in order to give her access to the chapel, for

the sake of frequent converse with Heaven, had been contrived by Bocking

and Masters for less refined purposes.

* 25 Henry VIII. cap. 12. Burnet, vol. i. p. 149. Hall, fol.

220.

** Godwin’s Annals, p. 53.

{1535.} The detection of this imposture, attended with so many odious

circumstances, both hurt the credit of the ecclesiastics, particularly

the monks, and instigated the king to take vengeance on them. He

suppressed three monasteries of the Observantine friars; and finding

that little clamor was excited by this act of power, he was the more

encouraged to lay his rapacious hands on the remainder. Meanwhile he

exercised punishment on individuals who were obnoxious to him. The

parliament had made it treason to endeavor depriving the king of his

dignity or titles: they had lately added to his other titles, that of

supreme head of the church: it was inferred, that to deny his supremacy

was treason; and many priors and ecclesiastics lost their lives for this

new species of guilt. It was certainly a high instance of tyranny to

punish the mere delivery of a political opinion, especially one that

nowise affected the king’s temporal right, as a capital offence, though

attended with no overt act; and the parliament, in passing this law,

had overlooked all the principles by which a civilized, much more a free

people, should be governed: but the violence of changing so suddenly the

whole system of government, and making it treason to deny what during

many ages it had been heresy to assert, is an event which may appear

somewhat extraordinary. Even the stern, unrelenting mind of Henry was at

first shocked with these sanguinary measures; and he went so far as to

change his garb and dress; pretending sorrow for the necessity by which

he was pushed to such extremities. Still impelled, however, by his

violent temper, and desirous of striking a terror into the whole nation,

he proceeded, by making examples of Fisher and More, to consummate his

lawless tyranny.

John Fisher, bishop of Rochester, was a prelate eminent for learning and

morals, still more than for his ecclesiastical dignities, and for the

high favor which he had long enjoyed with the king; When he was thrown

into prison, on account of his refusing the oath which regarded the

succession, and his concealment of Elizabeth Barton’s treasonable

speeches, he had not only been deprived of all his revenues, but

stripped of his very clothes, and, without consideration of his extreme

age, he was allowed nothing but rags, which scarcely sufficed to

cover his nakedness.[*] In this condition he lay in prison above a

twelvemonth; when the pope, willing to recompense the sufferings of

so faithful an adherent, created him a cardinal though Fisher was so

indifferent about that dignity, that, even if the purple were lying at

his feet, he declared that he would not stoop to take it. This promotion

of a man merely for his opposition to royal authority, roused the

indignation of the king; and he resolved to make the innocent person

feel the effects of his resentment. Fisher was indicted for denying the

king’s supremacy, was tried, condemned, and beheaded.

* Fuller’s Church Hist. book v. p. 203.

The execution of this prelate was intended as a warning to More, whose

compliance, on account of his great authority both abroad and at home,

and his high reputation for learning and virtue, was anxiously desired

by the king. That prince also bore as great personal affection and

regard to More, as his imperious mind, the sport of passions, was

susceptible of towards a man who in any particular opposed his violent

inclinations. But More could never be prevailed on to acknowledge any

opinion so contrary to his principles as that of the king’s supremacy;

and though Henry exacted that compliance from the whole nation, there

was as yet no law obliging any one to take an oath to that purpose.

Rich, the solicitor-general, was sent to confer with More, then a

prisoner, who kept a cautious silence with regard to the supremacy:

he was only inveigled to say, that any question with regard to the law

which established that prerogative was a two-edged sword; if a person

answer one way, it will confound his soul; if another, it will destroy

his body. No more was wanted to found an indictment of high treason

against the prisoner. His silence was called malicious, and made a part

of his crime; and these words, which had casually dropped from him,

were interpreted as a denial of the supremacy.[*] Trials were mere

formalities during this reign: the jury gave sentence against More, who

had long expected this fate, and who needed no preparation to fortify

him against the terrors of death. Not only his constancy, but even his

cheerfulness, nay, his usual facetiousness, never forsook him; and

he made a sacrifice of his life to his integrity, with the same

indifference that he maintained in any ordinary occurrence. When he was

mounting the scaffold, he said to one, “Friend, help me up; and when I

come down again, let me shift for myself.” The executioner asking him

forgiveness, he granted the request, but told him, “You will never get

credit by beheading me, my neck is so short.” Then laying his head on

the block, he bade the executioner stay till he put aside his beard:

“For,” said he, “it never committed treason.” Nothing was wanting to the

glory of this end, except a better cause, more free from weakness and

superstition. But as the man followed his principles and sense of duty,

however misguided, his constancy and integrity are not the less objects

of our admiration. He was beheaded in the fifty-third year of his age.

* More’s Life of Sir Thomas More. Herbert, p. 393

When the execution of Fisher and More was reported at Rome, especially

that of the former, who was invested with the dignity of cardinal, every

one discovered the most violent rage against the king; and numerous

libels were published by the wits and orators of Italy, comparing him

to Caligula, Nero, Domitian, and all the most unrelenting tyrants of

antiquity. Clement VII. had died about six months after he pronounced

sentence against the king; and Paul III., of the name of Farnese, had

succeeded to the papal throne. This pontiff, who while cardinal, had

always favored Henry’s cause, had hoped that personal animosities

being buried with his predecessor, might not be impossible to form

an agreement with England: and the king himself was so desirous of

accommodating matters, that in a negotiation which he entered into with

Francis a little before this time, he required that that monarch should

conciliate a friendship between him and the court of Rome. But Henry

was accustomed to prescribe, not to receive terms; and even while he was

negotiating for peace, his usual violence often carried him to commit

offences which rendered the quarrel totally incurable. The execution of

Fisher was regarded by Paul as so capital an injury, that he immediately

passed censures against the king, citing him and all his adherents to

appear in Rome within ninety days, in order to answer for their crimes:

if they failed, he excommunicated them; deprived the king of his crown;

laid the kingdom under an interdict; declared his issue by Anne Boleyn

illegitimate; dissolved all leagues which any Catholic princes had made

with him; gave his kingdom to any invader; commanded the nobility to

take arms against him; freed his subjects from all oaths of allegiance;

cut off their commerce with foreign states; and declared it lawful for

any one to seize them, to make slaves of their persons, and to convert

their effects to his own use.[*] But though these censures were passed,

they were not at that time openly denounced; the pope delayed the

publication till he should find an agreement with England entirely

desperate; and till the emperor, who was at that time hard pressed

by the Turks and the Protestant princes in Germany, should be in a

condition to carry the sentence into execution.

The king knew that he might expect any injury which it should be in

Charles’s power to inflict; and he therefore made it the chief object

of his policy to incapacitate that monarch from wreaking his resentment

upon him.[**]

* Sanders, p. 148.

** Herbert, p. 350, 351.

He renewed his friendship with Francis, and opened negotiations for

marrying his infant daughter, Elizabeth, with the duke of Angoulême,

third son of Francis. These two monarchs also made advances to the

princes of the Protestant league in Germany, ever jealous of the

emperor’s ambition; and Henry, besides remitting them some money, sent

Fox, bishop of Hereford, as Francis did Bellay, lord of Langley, to

treat with them. But during the first fervors of the reformation,

an agreement in theological tenets was held, as well as a union of

interests, to be essential to a good correspondence among states; and

though both Francis and Henry flattered the German princes with hopes of

their embracing the confession of Augsbourg, it was looked upon as a

bad symptom of their sincerity, that they exercised such extreme

rigor against all preachers of the reformation in their respective

dominions.[*] Henry carried the feint so far, that, while he thought

himself the first theologian in the world, he yet invited over

Melaricthon, Bucer, Sturmius, Draco, and other German divines, that

they might confer with him, and instruct him in the foundation of their

tenets. These theologians were now of great importance in the world; and

no poet or philosopher, even in ancient Greece, where they were treated

with most respect, had ever reached equal applause and admiration with

those wretched composers of metaphysical polemics. The German princes

told the king, that they could not spare their divines; and as Henry

had no hopes of agreement with such zealous disputants, and knew that in

Germany the followers of Luther would not associate with the disciples

of Zuinglius, because, though they agreed in every thing else, they

differed in some minute particulars with regard to the eucharist, he was

the more indifferent on account of this refusal. He could also foresee,

that even while the league of Smalcalde did not act in concert with him,

they would always be carried by their interests to oppose the emperor:

and the hatred between Francis and that monarch was so inveterate,

that he deemed himself sure of a sincere ally in one or other of these

potentates.

* Sleidan, lib. 10.

{1536.} During these negotiations, an incident happened in England,

which promised a more amicable conclusion of those disputes, and seemed

even to open the way for a reconciliation between Henry and Charles.

Queen Catharine was seized with a lingering illness, which at last

brought her to her grave; she died at Kimbolton, in the county of

Huntingdon, in the fiftieth year of her age. A little before she

expired, she wrote a very tender letter to the king, in which she gave

him the appellation of “her most dear lord, king, and husband.” She told

him that as the hour of her death was now approaching, she laid hold

of this last opportunity to inculcate on him the importance of his

religious duty, and the comparative emptiness of all human grandeur and

enjoyment; that though his fondness towards these perishable advantages

had thrown her into many calamities, as well as created to himself

much trouble, she yet forgave him all past injuries, and hoped that his

pardon would be ratified in Heaven; and that she had no other request

to make, than to recommend to him his daughter, the sole pledge of

their loves; and to crave his protection for her maids and servants. She

concluded with these words: “I make this vow, that mine eyes desire

you above all things.”[*] The king was touched, even to the shedding

of tears, by this last tender proof of Catharine’s affection; but Queen

Anne is said to have expressed her joy for the death of a rival beyond

what decency or humanity could permit.[**]

The emperor thought that, as the demise of his aunt had removed all

foundation of personal animosity between him and Henry, it might not now

be impossible to detach him from the alliance of France, and to renew

his own confederacy with England, from which he had formerly reaped so

much advantage. He sent Henry proposals for a return to ancient amity,

upon these conditions:[***] that he should be reconciled to the see of

Rome, that he should assist him in his war with the Turk, and that he

should take part with him against Francis, who now threatened the duchy

of Milan. The king replied, that he was willing to be on good terms

with the emperor, provided that prince would acknowledge that the former

breach of friendship came entirely from himself: as to the conditions

proposed, the proceedings against the bishop of Rome were so just, and

so fully ratified by the parliament of England, that they could not

now be revoked; when Christian princes should have settled peace among

themselves, he would not fail to exert that vigor which became him,

against the enemies of the faith; and after amity with the emperor

was once fully restored, he should then be in a situation, as a common

friend both to him and Francis, either to mediate an agreement between

them, or to assist the injured party.

* Herbert, p. 403.

** Burnet, vol. i. p. 192

*** Du Bellai, liv. v. Herbert. Burnet, vol. iii. in Coll.

No· 60.

What rendered Henry more indifferent to the advances made by the emperor

was, both his experience of the usual duplicity and insincerity of

that monarch, and the intelligence which he received of the present

transactions in Europe. Francis Sforza, duke of Milan, had died without

issue; and the emperor maintained that the duchy, being a fief of the

empire, was devolved to him, as head of the Germanic body: not to give

umbrage, however, to the states of Italy, he professed his intention of

bestowing that principality on some prince who should be obnoxious to no

party, and he even made offer of it to the duke of Angoulême, third

son of Francis. The French monarch, who pretended that his own right to

Milan was now revived upon Sforza’s death, was content to substitute his

second son, the duke of Orleans, in his place; and the emperor pretended

to close with this proposal. But his sole intention in that liberal

concession was to gain time till he should put himself in a warlike

posture, and be able to carry an invasion into Francis’s dominions. The

ancient enmity between these, princes broke out anew in bravadoes, and

in personal insults on each other, ill becoming persons of their rank,

and still less suitable to men of such unquestioned bravery. Charles

soon after invaded Provence in person, with an army of fifty thousand

men; but met with no success. His army perished with sickness, fatigue,

famine, and other disasters; and he was obliged to raise the siege of

Marseilles, and retire into Italy with the broken remains of his forces.

An army of imperialists, near thirty thousand strong, which invaded

France on the side of the Netherlands, and laid siege to Peronne, made

no greater progress, but retired upon the approach of a French army. And

Henry had thus the satisfaction to find, both that his ally Francis was

likely to support himself without foreign assistance, and that his own

tranquillity was fully insured by these violent wars and animosities on

the continent.

If any inquietude remained with the English court, it was solely

occasioned by the state of affairs in Scotland. James, hearing of the

dangerous situation of his ally Francis, generously levied some forces;

and embarking them on board vessels which he had hired for that purpose,

landed them safely in France. He even went over in person; and making

haste to join the camp of the French king, which then lay in Provence,

and to partake of his danger, he met that prince at Lyons, who, having

repulsed the emperor, was now returning to his capital. Recommended by

so agreeable and seasonable an instance of friendship, the king of Scots

paid his addresses to Magdalen, daughter of the French monarch; and

this prince had no other objection to the match than what arose from the

infirm state of his daughter’s health, which seemed to threaten her

with an approaching end. But James having gained the affections of the

princess, and obtained her consent, the father would no longer oppose

the united desires of his daughter and his friend: they were accordingly

married, and soon after set sail for Scotland, where the young queen, as

was foreseen, died in a little time after her arrival. Francis, however,

was afraid lest his ally Henry, whom he likewise looked on as his

friend, and who lived with him on a more cordial footing than is usual

among great princes, should be displeased that this close confederacy

between France and Scotland was concluded without his participation. He

therefore despatched Pommeraye to London, in order to apologize for this

measure; but Henry, with his usual openness and freedom, expressed such

displeasure, that he refused even to confer with the ambassador; and

Francis was apprehensive of a rupture with a prince who regulated

his measures more by humor and passion than by the rules of political

prudence. But the king was so fettered by the opposition in which he

was engaged against the pope and the emperor, that he pursued no further

this disgust against Francis; and in the end, every thing remained in

tranquillity both on the side of France and of Scotland.

The domestic peace of England seemed to be exposed to more hazard by the

violent innovations in religion; and it may be affirmed that, in this

dangerous conjuncture, nothing insured public tranquillity so much as

the decisive authority acquired by the king, and his great ascendant

over all his subjects. Not only the devotion paid to the crown was

profound during that age: the personal respect inspired by Henry was

considerable; and even the terrors with which he overawed every one,

were not attended with any considerable degree of hatred. His frankness,

his sincerity, his magnificence, his generosity, were virtues which

counterbalanced his violence, cruelty, and impetuosity. And the

important rank which his vigor, more than his address, acquired him in

all foreign negotiations, flattered the vanity of Englishmen, and made

them the more willingly endure those domestic hardships to which they

were exposed. The king, conscious of his advantages, was now proceeding

to the most dangerous exercise of his authority; and after paving the

way for that measure by several preparatory expedients, he was at last

determined to suppress the monasteries, and to put himself in possession

of their ample revenues.

The great increase of monasteries, if matters be considered merely in

a political light, will appear the radical inconvenience of the

Catholic religion; and every other disadvantage attending that

communion seems to have an inseparable connection with these religious

institutions. Papal usurpations, the tyranny of the inquisition, the

multiplicity of holidays; all these fetters on liberty and industry were

ultimately derived from the authority and insinuation of monks, whose

habitations, being established every where, proved so many seminaries

of superstition and of folly. This order of men was extremely enraged

against Henry, and regarded the abolition of the papal authority in

England as the removal of the sole protection which they enjoyed against

the rapacity of the crown and of the courtiers. They were now subjected

to the king’s visitation; the supposed sacredness of their bulls from

Rome was rejected; the progress of the reformation abroad, which had

every where been attended with the abolition of the monastic orders,

gave them reason to apprehend like consequences in England; and though

the king still maintained the doctrine of purgatory, to which most of

the convents owed their origin and support, it was foreseen, that, in

the progress of the contest, he would every day be led to depart

wider from ancient institutions, and be drawn nearer the tenets of the

reformers, with whom his political interests naturally induced him to

unite. Moved by these considerations, the friars employed all their

influence to inflame the people against the king’s government; and

Henry, finding their safety irreconcilable with his own, was determined

to seize the present opportunity, and utterly destroy his declared

enemies.

Cromwell, secretary of state, had been appointed vicar-general, or

vicegerent, a new office, by which the king’s supremacy, or the absolute

uncontrollable power assumed over the church, was delegated to him. He

employed Layton, London, Price, Gage, Petre, Bellasis, and others, as

commissioners who carried on every where a rigorous inquiry with

regard to the conduct and deportment of all the friars. During times of

faction, especially of the 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 pretence for abolishing monasteries, we may

naturally conclude, that the reports of the commissioners are very

little to be relied on. Friars were encouraged to bring in informations

against their brethren; the slightest evidence was credited; and even

the calumnies spread abroad by the friends of the reformation, were

regarded as grounds of proof. Monstrous disorders are therefore said to

have been found in many of the religious houses; whole convents of women

abandoned to lewdness; signs of abortions procured, of infants murdered,

of unnatural lusts between persons of the same sex. It is indeed

probable, that the blind submission of the people, during those ages,

would render the friars and nuns more unguarded and more dissolute

than they are in any Roman Catholic country at present; but still the

reproaches, which it is safest to credit, are such as point at vices

naturally connected with the very institution of convents, and with

the monastic life. The cruel and inveterate factions and quarrels,

therefore, which the commissioners mentioned, are very credible among

men, who, being confined together within the same walls, never can

forget their mutual animosities, and who, being cut off from all the

most endearing connections of nature, are commonly cursed with hearts

more selfish, and tempers more unrelenting, than fall to the share

of other men. The pious frauds practised to increase the devotion

and liberality of the people, may be regarded as certain, in an order

founded on illusions, lies, and superstition. The supine idleness also,

and its attendant, profound ignorance, with which the convents were

reproached, admit of no question; and though monks were the true

preservers, as well as inventors, of the dreaming and captious

philosophy of the schools, no manly or elegant knowledge could be

expected among men, whose lives, condemned to a tedious uniformity,

and deprived of all emulation, afforded nothing to raise the mind or

cultivate the genius.

Some few monasteries, terrified with this rigorous inquisition carried

on by Cromwell and his commissioners, surrendered their revenues into

the king’s hands; and the monks received small pensions as the reward of

their obsequiousness. Orders were given to dismiss such nuns and

friars as were below four and twenty, whose vows were, on that account,

supposed not to be binding. The doors of the convents were opened, even

to such as were above that age; and every one recovered his liberty who

desired it. But as all these expedients did not fully answer the

king’s purpose, he had recourse to his usual instrument of power, the

parliament; and in order to prepare men for the innovations projected,

the report of the visitors was published, and a general horror was

endeavored to be excited n the nation against institutions, which, to

their ancestors had been the objects of the most profound veneration.

The king, though determined utterly to abolish the monastic order,

resolved to proceed gradually in this great work; and he gave directions

to the parliament to go no further, at present, than to suppress the

lesser monasteries, which possessed revenues below two hundred pounds a

year.[*] These were found to be the most corrupted, as lying less under

the restraint of shame, and being exposed to less scrutiny;[**] and it

was deemed safest to begin with them, and thereby prepare the way

for the greater innovations projected. By this act three hundred and

seventy-six monasteries were suppressed, and their revenues, amounting

to thirty-two thousand pounds a year, were granted to the king; besides

their goods, chattels, and plate, computed at a hundred thousand pounds

more.[***] It does not appear that any opposition was made to this

important law: so absolute was Henry’s authority[****] A court, called

the court of augmentation of the king’s revenue, was erected for the

management of these funds. The people naturally concluded from this

circumstance, that Henry intended to proceed in despoiling the church of

her patrimony.[v]

The act formerly passed, empowering the king to name thirty-two

commissioners for framing a body of canon law, was renewed; but the

project was never carried into execution. Henry thought, that the

present perplexity of that law increased his authority, and kept the

clergy in still greater dependence.

Further progress was made in completing the union of Wales with England:

the separate jurisdictions of several great lords, or marchers, as

they were called, which obstructed the course of justice in Wales, and

encouraged robbery and pillaging, were abolished; and the authority of

the king’s courts was extended every where. Some jurisdictions of a like

nature in England were also abolished this session.

* 27 Henry VIII. c. 28.

** Burnet, vol. i. p. 193.

*** It is pretended, (see Holingshed, p. 939,) that ten

thousand monks wore turned out on the dissolution of the

lesser monasteries. If so, most of them must have been

mendicants; for the revenue could not have supported near

that number. The mendicants, no doubt, still continued their

former profession.

**** 27 Henry VIII. c. 27.

v 27 Henry VIII. c. 4

The commons, sensible that they had gained nothing by opposing the

king’s will when he formerly endeavored to secure the profits of

wardships and liveries, were now contented to frame a law,[*] such as he

dictated to them. It was enacted, that the possession of land shall be

adjudged to be in those who have the use of it, not in those to whom it

is transferred in trust.

* 27 Henry VIII. c. 10.

After all these laws were passed, the king dissolved the parliament; a

parliament memorable, not only for the great and important innovations

which it introduced, but also for the long time it had sitten, and the

frequent prorogations which it had undergone. Henry had found it so

obsequious to his will, that he did not choose, during those religious

ferments, to hazard a new election; and he continued the same parliament

above six years: a practice at that time unusual in England.

The convocation which sat during this session was engaged in a very

important work, the deliberating on the new translation which was

projected of the Scriptures. The translation given by Tindal, though

corrected by himself in a new edition, was still complained of by the

clergy as inaccurate and unfaithful; and it was now proposed to them,

that they should themselves publish a translation which would not be

liable to those objections.

The friends of the reformation asserted, that nothing could be more

absurd than to conceal, in an unknown tongue, the word of God itself,

and thus to counteract the will of Heaven, which, for the purpose

of universal salvation, had published that salutary doctrine to all

nations: that if this practice were not very absurd, the artifice at

least was very gross, and proved a consciousness, that the glosses and

traditions of the clergy stood in direct opposition to the original

text, dictated by supreme intelligence: that it was now necessary for

the people, so long abused by interested pretensions, to see with their

own eyes, and to examine whether the claims of the ecclesiastics were

founded on that charter which was on all hands acknowledged to be

derived from Heaven: and that, as a spirit of research and curiosity

was happily revived, and men were now obliged to make a choice among

the contending doctrines of different sects, the proper materials for

decision, and above all, the Holy Scriptures, should be set before them;

and the revealed will of God, which the change of language had somewhat

obscured, be again, by their means, revealed to mankind.

The favorers of the ancient religion maintained, on the other hand, that

the pretence of making the people see with their own eyes was a mere

cheat, and was itself a very gross artifice, by which the new preachers

hoped to obtain the guidance of them, and to seduce them from those

pastors whom the laws, whom ancient establishments, whom Heaven itself,

had appointed for their spiritual direction: that the people were by

their ignorance, their stupidity, their necessary avocations, totally

unqualified to choose their own principles; and it was a mockery to set

materials before them, of which they could not possibly make any proper

use: that even in the affairs of common life, and in their temporal

concerns, which lay more within the compass of human reason, the laws

had in a great measure deprived them of the right of private judgment,

and had, happily for their own and the public interest, regulated their

conduct and behavior: that theological questions were placed far beyond

the sphere of vulgar comprehension; and ecclesiastics themselves, though

assisted by all the advantages of education, erudition, and an assiduous

study of the science, could not be fully assured of a just decision,

except by the promise made them in Scripture, that God would be ever

present with his church, and that the gates of hell should not prevail

against her: that the gross errors adopted by the wisest heathens,

proved how unfit men were to grope their own way through this profound

darkness; nor would the Scriptures, if trusted to every man’s judgment,

be able to remedy; on the contrary, they would much augment, those fatal

illusions: that sacred writ itself was involved in so much obscurity,

gave rise to so many difficulties, contained so many appearing

contradictions, that it was the most dangerous weapon that could be

intrusted into the hands of the ignorant and giddy multitude: that the

poetical style in which a great part of it was composed, at the same

time that it occasioned uncertainty in the sense, by its multiplied

tropes and figures, was sufficient to kindle the zeal of fanaticism,

and thereby throw civil society into the most furious combustion: that a

thousand sects must arise, which would pretend, each of them, to derive

its tenets from the Scripture; and would be able, by specious arguments,

or even without specious arguments, to seduce silly women and ignorant

mechanics into a belief of the most monstrous principles: and that if

ever this disorder, dangerous to the magistrate himself, received a

remedy, it must be from the tacit acquiescence of the people in some

new authority; and it was evidently better, without further contest or

inquiry, to adhere peaceably to ancient, and therefore the more secure

establishments.

These latter arguments, being more agreeable to ecclesiastical

governments, would probably have prevailed in the convocation, had it

not been for the authority of Cranmer, Latimer, and some other bishops,

who were supposed to speak the king’s sense of the matter. A vote was

passed for publishing a new translation of the Scriptures; and in three

years’ time the work was finished, and printed at Paris. This was deemed

a great point gained by the reformers, and a considerable advancement

of their cause. Further progress was soon expected, after such important

successes.

But while the retainers to the new religion were exulting in their

prosperity, they met with a mortification which seemed to blast all

their hopes: their patroness, Anne Boleyn, possessed no longer the

king’s favor; and soon after lost her life by the rage of that furious

monarch. Henry had persevered in his love to this lady during six years

that his prosecution of the divorce lasted; and the more obstacles he

met with to the gratification of his passion, the more determined

zeal did he exert in pursuing his purpose. But the affection which had

subsisted, and still increased under difficulties, had not long attained

secure possession of its object, when it languished from satiety; and

the king’s heart was apparently estranged from his consort. Anne’s

enemies soon perceived the fatal change; and they were forward to widen

the breach, when they found that they incurred no danger by interposing

in those delicate concerns. She had been delivered of a dead son; and

Henry’s extreme fondness for male issue being thus for the present

disappointed, his temper, equally violent and superstitious, was

disposed to make the innocent mother answerable for the misfortune.[*]

But the chief means which Anne’s enemies employed to inflame the king

against her, was his jealousy.

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 196.

Anne, though she appears to have been entirely innocent, and even

virtuous in her conduct, had a certain gayety, if not levity of

character which threw her off her guard, and made her less circumspect

than her situation required. Her education in France rendered her the

more prone to those freedoms; and it was with difficulty she conformed

herself to that strict ceremonial practised in the court of England.

More vain than haughty, she was pleased to see the influence of

her beauty on all around her; and she indulged herself in an easy

familiarity with persons who were formerly her equals, and who might

then have pretended to her friendship and good graces. Henry’s dignity

was offended with these popular manners; and though the lover had been

entirely blind, the husband possessed but too quick discernment

and penetration. III instruments interposed, and put a malignant

interpretation on the harmless liberties of the queen: the viscountess

of Rocheford, in particular, who was married to the queen’s brother, but

who lived on bad terms with her sister-in-law, insinuated the most cruel

suspicions into the king’s mind; and as she was a woman of a profligate

character, she paid no regard either to truth or humanity in those

calumnies which she suggested. She pretended that her own husband was

engaged in a criminal correspondence with his sister; and not content

with this imputation, she poisoned every action of the queen’s, and

represented each instance of favor, which she conferred on any one, as

a token of affection. Henry Norris, groom of the stole, Weston and

Brereton, gentlemen of the king’s chamber, together with Mark Smeton,

groom of the chamber, were observed to possess much of the queen’s

friendship; and they served her with a zeal and attachment, which,

though chiefly derived from gratitude, might not improbably be seasoned

with some mixture of tenderness for so amiable a princess. The king’s

jealousy laid hold of the slightest circumstance; and finding no

particular object on which it could fasten, it vented itself equally on

every one that came within the verge of its fury.

Had Henry’s jealousy been derived from love, though it might on a sudden

have proceeded to the most violent extremities, it would have been

subject to many remorses and contrarieties; and might at last have

served only to augment that affection on which it was founded. But it

was a more stern jealousy, fostered entirely by pride: his love was

transferred to another object. Jane, daughter of Sir John Seymour, and

maid of honor to the queen, a young lady of singular beauty and merit,

had obtained an entire ascendant over him; and he was determined to

sacrifice every thing to the gratification of this new appetite. Unlike

to most monarchs, who judge lightly of the crime of gallantry, and who

deem the young damsels of their court rather honored than disgraced by

their passion, he seldom thought of any other attachment than that

of marriage; and in order to attain this end, he underwent more

difficulties, and committed greater crimes, than those which he sought

to avoid by forming that legal connection And having thus entertained

the design of raising his new mistress to his bed and throne, he more

willingly hearkened to every suggestion which threw any imputation of

guilt on the unfortunate Anne Boleyn.

The king’s jealousy first appeared openly in a tilting at Greenwich,

where the queen happened to drop her handkerchief, an incident probably

casual, but interpreted by him as an instance of gallantry to some of

her paramours.[*] He immediately retired from the place; sent orders

to confine her to her chamber; arrested Norris, Brereton, Weston, and

Smeton, together with her brother Rocheford; and threw them into prison.

The queen, astonished at these instances of his fury, thought that he

meant only to try her; but finding him in earnest, she reflected on

his obstinate, unrelenting spirit, and she prepared herself for that

melancholy doom which was awaiting her. Next day, she was sent to

the Tower; and on her way thither, she was informed of her supposed

offences, of which she had hitherto been ignorant: she made earnest

protestations of her innocence; and when she entered the prison, she

fell on her knees, and prayed God so to help her, as she was not guilty

of the crime imputed to her. Her surprise and confusion threw her into

hysterical disorders; and in that situation she thought that the

best proof of her innocence was to make an entire confession; and she

revealed some indiscretions and levities, which her simplicity had

equally betrayed her to commit and to avow. She owned that she had once

rallied Norris on his delaying his marriage, and had told him that

he probably expected her when she should be a widow: she had reproved

Weston, she said, for his affection to a kinswoman of hers, and his

indifference towards his wife; but he told her that she had mistaken

the object of his affection, for it was herself; upon which she defied

him.[*] She affirmed that Smeton had never been in her chamber but

twice, when he played on the harpsichord; but she acknowledged that

he had once had the boldness to tell her that a look sufficed him. The

king, instead of being satisfied with the candor and sincerity of her

confession, regarded these indiscretions only as preludes to greater and

more criminal intimacies.

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 198.

** Strype, vol. i. p. 281.

Of all those multitudes whom the beneficence of the queen’s tamper had

obliged during her prosperous fortune, no one durst interpose between

her and the king’s fury; and the person whose advancement every breath

had favored, and every countenance had smiled upon, was now left

neglected and abandoned. Even her uncle, the duke of Norfolk, preferring

the connections of party to the ties of blood, was become her most

dangerous enemy; and all the retainers to the Catholic religion hoped

that her death would terminate the king’s quarrel with Rome, and leave

him again to his natural and early bent, which had inclined him to

maintain the most intimate union with the apostolic see. Cranmer alone,

of all the queen’s adherents, still retained his friendship for her;

and, as far as the king’s impetuosity permitted him, he endeavored to

moderate the violent prejudices entertained against her.

The queen herself wrote Henry a letter from the Tower, full of the most

tender expostulations and of the warmest protestations of innocence.[*]

[10] This letter had no influence on the unrelenting mind of Henry, who

was determined to pave the way for his new marriage by the death of Anne

Boleyn. Morris, Weston, Brereton, and Smeton, were tried; but no legal

evidence was produced against them. The chief proof of their guilt

consisted in a hearsay from one Lady Wingfield, who was dead. Smeton was

prevailed on, by the vain hopes of life, to confess a criminal

correspondence with the queen;[**] but even her enemies expected little

advantage from this confession; for they never dared to confront him

with her; and he was immediately executed; as were also Brereton and

Weston. Norris had been much in the king’s favor, and an offer of life

was made him, if he would confess his crime and accuse the queen; but he

generously rejected the proposal, and said that in his conscience he

believed her entirely guiltless: but for his part, he could accuse her

of nothing, and he would rather die a thousand deaths than calumniate an

innocent person.

* See note K, at the end of the volume.

** Burnet, vol. i. p. 202.

The queen and her brother were tried by a jury of peers consisting of

the duke of Suffolk, the marquis of Exeter, the earl of Arundel, and

twenty-three more: their uncle, the duke of Norfolk, presided as high

steward. Upon what proof or pretence the crime of incest was imputed to

them, is unknown: the chief evidence, it is said, amounted to no

more than that Rocheford had been seen to lean on her bed before some

company. Part of the charge against her was that she had affirmed to her

minions, that the king never had her heart; and had said to each of them

apart, that she loved him better than any person whatsoever; “which was

to the slander of the issue begotten between the king and her.” By this

strained interpretation, her guilt was brought under the statute of the

twenty-fifth of this reign; in which it was declared criminal to

throw any slander upon the king, queen, or their issue. Such palpable

absurdities were at that time admitted; and they were regarded by the

peers of England as a sufficient reason for sacrificing an innocent

queen to the cruelty of their tyrant. Though unassisted by counsel, she

defended herself with presence of mind; and the spectators could not

forbear pronouncing her entirely innocent. Judgment, however, was given

by the court, both against the queen and Lord Rocheford; and her verdict

contained, that she should be burned or beheaded at the king’s pleasure.

When this dreadful sentence was pronounced, she was not terrified, but

lifting up her hands to heaven, said, “O Father! O Creator! thou who art

the way, the truth, and the life, thou knowest that I have not deserved

this fate;” and then turning to the judges, made the most pathetic

declarations of her innocence.

Henry, not satisfied with this cruel vengeance, was resolved entirely

to annul his marriage with Anne Boleyn, and to declare her issue

illegitimate: he recalled to his memory, that a little after her

appearance in the English court, some attachment had been acknowledged

between her and the earl of Northumberland, then Lord Piercy; and he

now questioned that nobleman with regard to these engagements.

Northumberland took an oath before the two archbishops, that no contract

or promise of marriage had ever passed between them: he received the

sacrament upon it, before the duke of Norfolk and others of the privy

council; and this solemn act he accompanied with the most solemn

protestations of veracity.[*] The queen, however, was shaken by menaces

of executing the sentence against her in its greatest rigor, and was

prevailed on to confess in court some lawful impediment to her marriage

with the king.[**] The afflicted primate, who sat as judge, thought

himself obliged by this confession to pronounce the marriage null and

invalid. Henry, in the transports of his fury, did not perceive that

his proceedings were totally inconsistent, and that if her marriage

were from the beginning invalid, she could not possibly be guilty of

adultery.

* Herbert, p. 384*[**missing period]

** Heylin, p. 94.

The queen now prepared for suffering the death to which she was

sentenced. She sent her last message to the king, and acknowledged

the obligations which she owed him, in thus uniformly continuing his

endeavors for her advancement: from a private gentlewoman, she said, he

had first made her a marchioness, then a queen, and now, since he could

raise her no higher in this world, he was sending her to be a saint

in heaven. She then renewed the protestations of her innocence, and

recommended her daughter to his care. Before the lieutenant of the

Tower, and all who approached her, she made the like declarations;

and continued to behave herself with her usual serenity, and even with

cheerfulness. “The executioner,” she said to the lieutenant, “is, I

hear, very expert; and my neck is very slender:” upon which she grasped

it in her hand, and smiled. When brought, however, to the scaffold,

she softened her tone a little with regard to her protestations

of innocence. She probably reflected, that the obstinacy of Queen

Catharine, and her opposition to the king’s will, had much alienated him

from the lady Mary: her own maternal concern, therefore, for Elizabeth

prevailed in these last moments over that indignation which the unjust

sentence by which she suffered naturally excited in her. She said that

she was come to die, as she was sentenced, by the law: she would accuse

none, nor say any thing of the ground upon which she was judged. She

prayed heartily for the king; called him a most merciful and gentle

prince; and acknowledged that he had always been to her a good and

gracious sovereign; and if any one should think proper to canvass her

cause, she desired him to judge the best.[*] She was beheaded by the

executioner of Calais, who was sent for as more expert than any

in England. Her body was negligently thrown into a common chest of

elm-tree, made to hold arrows, and was buried in the Tower.

* Burnet. vol. i. p. 205.

The innocence of this unfortunate queen cannot reasonably be called in

question. Henry himself, in the violence of his rage, knew not whom to

accuse as her lover; and though he imputed guilt to her brother, and

four persons more, he was able to bring proof against none of them. The

whole tenor of her conduct forbids us to ascribe to her an abandoned

character, such as is implied in the king’s accusation: had she been so

lost to all prudence and sense of shame, she must have exposed herself

to detection, and afforded her enemies some evidence against her. But

the king made the most effectual apology for her, by marrying Jane

Seymour the very day after her execution.[*] His impatience to gratify

this new passion caused him to forgot all regard to decency; and his

cruel heart was not softened a moment by the bloody catastrophe of a

person who had so long been the object of his most tender affections.

The lady Mary thought the death of her step-mother a proper opportunity

for reconciling herself to the king, who, besides other causes of

disgust, had been offended with her on account of the part which she had

taken in her mother’s quarrel. Her advances were not at first received;

and Henry exacted from her some further proofs of submission and

obedience: he required this young princess, then about twenty years of

age, to adopt his theological tenets; to acknowledge his supremacy; to

renounce the pope; and to own her mother’s marriage to be unlawful and

incestuous. These points were of hard digestion with the princess; but

after some delays, and even refusals, she was at last prevailed on to

write a letter to her father,[**] containing her assent to the

articles required of her; upon which she was received into favor. But

notwithstanding the return of the king’s affection to the issue of his

first marriage, he divested not himself of kindness towards the lady

Elizabeth; and the new queen, who was blessed with a singular sweetness

of disposition, discovered strong proofs of attachment towards her.

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 297.

** Burnet, vol. i. p. 207. Strype, vol. i. p. 285.

The trial and conviction of Queen Anne, and the subsequent events, made

it necessary for the king to summon a new parliament; and he here,

in his speech, made a merit to his people, that, notwithstanding the

misfortunes attending his two former marriages, he had been induced for

their good to venture on a third. The speaker received this profession

with suitable gratitude; and he took thence occasion to praise the

king for his wonderful gifts of grace and nature: he compared him, for

justice and prudence, to Solomon; for strength and fortitude, to Samson;

and for beauty and comeliness, to Absalom. The king very humbly replied,

by the mouth cf the chancellor, that he disavowed these praises; since,

if he were really possessed of such endowments, they were the gift

of Almighty God only. Henry found that the parliament was no less

submissive in deeds than complaisant in their expressions, and that

they would go the same lengths as the former in gratifying even his most

lawless passions. His divorce from Anne Boleyn was ratified;[*] that

queen and all her accomplices were attainted; the issue of both his

former marriages were declared illegitimate, and it was even made

treason to assert the legitimacy of either of them; to throw any slander

upon the present king, queen, or their issue, was subjected to the same

penalty; the crown was settled on the king’s issue by Jane Seymour, or

any subsequent wife; and in case he should die without children, he was

empowered, by his will or letters patent, to dispose of the crown; an

enormous authority, especially when intrusted to a prince so violent and

capricious in his humor. Whoever, being required, refused to answer upon

oath to any article of this act of settlement, was declared to be guilty

of treason; and by this clause a species of political inquisition

was established in the kingdom, as well as the accusations of treason

multiplied to an unreasonable degree. The king was also empowered to

confer on any one, by his will or letters patent, any castles, honors,

liberties, or franchises; words which might have been extended to the

dismembering of the kingdom, by the erection of principalities and

independent jurisdictions. It was also, by another act, made treason

to marry, without the king’s consent, any princess related in the first

degree to the crown. This act was occasioned by the discovery of a

design formed by Thomas Howard, brother of the duke of Norfolk, to

espouse the lady Margaret Douglas, niece to the king, by his sister the

queen of Scots and the earl of Angus. Howard, as well as the young lady,

was committed to the Tower. She recovered her liberty soon after; but he

died in confinement. An act of attainder passed against him this session

of parliament.

* The parliament, in annulling the king’s marriage with Anne

Boleyn, gives this as a reason, “For that his highness had

chosen to wife the excellent and virtuous Lady Jane, who,

for her convenient years, excellent beauty, and pureness of

flesh and blood, would be apt, God willing, to conceive

issue by his highness.”

Another accession was likewise gained to the authority of the crown;

the king or any of his successors was empowered to repeal or annul, by

letters patent, whatever act of parliament had been passed before he was

four and twenty years of age. Whoever maintained the authority of the

bishop of Rome by word or writ, or endeavored in any manner to restore

it in England, was subjected to the penalty of a premunire that is, his

goods were forfeited, and he was put out of the protection of law.

And any person who possessed any office, ecclesiastical or civil,

or received any grant or charter from the crown, and yet refused to

renounce the pope by oath, was declared to be guilty of treason. The

renunciation prescribed runs in the style of, “So help me God, all

saints, and the holy evangelists.”[*] The pope, hearing of Anne

Boleyn’s disgrace and death, had hoped that the door was opened to a

reconciliation, and had been making some advances to Henry: but this was

the reception he met with. Henry was now become indifferent with regard

to papal censures; and finding a great increase of authority, as well as

of revenue, to accrue from his quarrel with Rome, he was determined to

persevere in his present measures. This parliament also, even more than

any foregoing, convinced him how much he commanded the respect of

his subjects, and what confidence he might repose in them. Though

the elections had been made on a sudden, without any preparation or

intrigue, the members discovered an unlimited attachment to his person

and government.[**]

* 28 Henry VIII. c. 10.

** Burnet, vol. i. p. 213.

The extreme complaisance of the convocation, which sat at the same

time with the parliament, encouraged him in his resolution of breaking

entirely with the court of Rome. There was secretly a great division

of sentiments in the minds of this assembly; and as the zeal of the

reformers had been augmented by some late successes, the resentment of

the Catholics was no less excited by their fears and losses: but the

authority of the king kept every one submissive and silent; and the new

assumed prerogative, the supremacy, with whose limits no one was fully

acquainted, restrained even the most furious movements of theological

rancor. Cromwell presided as vicar-general; and though the Catholic

party expected, that on the fall of Queen Anne, his authority would

receive a great shock, they were surprised to find him still maintain

the same credit as before. With the vicar-general concurred Cranmer the

primate, Latimer, bishop of Worcester, Shaxton of Salisbury, Hilsey of

Rochester, Fox of Hereford, Barlow of St. David’s. The opposite faction

was headed by Lee, archbishop of York, Stokesley, bishop of London,

Tonstal of Durham, Gardner of Winchester, Longland of Lincoln, Sherborne

of Chichester, Nix of Norwich, and Kite of Carlisle. The former party,

by their opposition to the pope, seconded the king’s ambition and love

of power: the latter party, by maintaining the ancient theological

tenets, were more conformable to his speculative principles: and both of

them had alternately the advantage of gaining on his humor, by which he

was more governed than by either of these motives.

The church in general was averse to the reformation; and the lower house

of convocation framed a list of opinions, in the whole sixty-seven,

which they pronounced erroneous, and which was a collection of

principles, some held by the ancient Lollards, others by the modern

Protestants, or Gospellers, as they were sometimes called. These

opinions they sent to the upper house to be censured; but in the

preamble of their representation, they discovered the servile spirit by

which they were governed. They said, “that they intended not to do

or speak any thing which might be unpleasant to the king, whom they

acknowledged their supreme head, and whose commands they were resolved

to obey; renouncing the pope’s usurped authority, with all his laws and

inventions, now extinguished and abolished; and addicting themselves to

Almighty God and his laws, and unto the king and the laws made within

this kingdom.”[*]

* Collier, vol. ii. p. 119.

The convocation came at last, after some debate, to decide articles of

faith; and their tenets were of as motley a kind as the assembly itself,

or rather as the king’s system of theology, by which they were resolved

entirely to square their principles. They determined the standard of

faith to consist in the Scriptures and the three creeds, the Apostolic,

Nicene, and Athanasian; and this article was a signal victory to the

reformers: auricular confession and penance were admitted, a doctrine

agreeable to the Catholics: no mention was made of marriage, extreme

unction, confirmation, or holy orders, as sacraments; and in this

omission the influence of the Protestants appeared: the real presence

was asserted conformably to the ancient doctrine: the terms of

acceptance were established to be the merits of Christ, and the mercy

and good pleasure of God, suitably to the new principles.

So far the two sects seem to have made a fair partition by alternately

sharing the several clauses. In framing the subsequent articles, each of

them seems to have thrown in its ingredient. The Catholics prevailed

in asserting, that the use of images was warranted by Scripture; the

Protestants, in warning the people against idolatry, and the abuse

of these sensible representations. The ancient faith was adopted in

maintaining the expedience of praying to saints; the late innovations in

rejecting the peculiar patronage of saints to any trade, profession, or

course of action. The former rites of worship, the use of holy water,

and the ceremonies practised on Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, Good Friday,

and other festivals, were still maintained; but the new refinements,

which made light of these institutions, were also adopted, by the

convocation’s denying that they had any immediate power of remitting

sin, and by its asserting that their sole merit consisted in promoting

pious and devout dispositions in the mind.

But the article with regard to purgatory contains the most curious

jargon, ambiguity, and hesitation, arising from the mixture of opposite

tenets. It was to this purpose: “Since, according to due order of

charity, and the book of Maccabees, and divers ancient authors, it is a

very good and charitable deed to pray for souls departed, and since such

a practice has been maintained in the church from the beginning, all

bishops and teachers should instruct the people not to be grieved for

the continuance of the same. But since the place where departed souls

are retained before they reach paradise, as well as the nature of their

pains, is left uncertain by Scripture, all such questions are to be

submitted to God, to whose mercy it is meet and convenient to commend

the deceased, trusting that he accepteth our prayers for them.”[*]

* Collier, vol. ii. p. 122, et seq. Fuller. Burnet, vol. i.

p. 215.

These articles, when framed by the convocation, and corrected by the

king, were subscribed by every member of that assembly; while, perhaps,

neither there nor throughout the whole kingdom, could one man be found,

except Henry himself, who had adopted precisely these very doctrines and

opinions. For though there be not any contradiction in the tenets

above mentioned, it had happened in England, as in all countries where

factious divisions have place; a certain creed was embraced by each

party; few neuters were to be found; and these consisted only of

speculative or whimsical people, of whom two persons could scarcely

be brought to an agreement in the same dogmas. The Protestants, all of

them, carried their opposition to Rome further than those articles; none

of the Catholics went so far: and the king, by being able to retain

the nation in such a delicate medium, displayed the utmost power of an

imperious despotism of which any history furnishes an example. To change

the religion of a country, even when seconded by a party, is one of the

most perilous enterprises which any sovereign can attempt, and often

proves the most destructive to royal authority. But Henry was able to

set the political machine in that furious movement, and yet regulate and

even stop its career: he could say to it, Thus far shalt thou go, and

no farther: and he made every vote of his parliament and convocation

subservient, not only to his interests and passions, but even to

his greatest caprices; nay, to his most refined and most scholastic

subtilties.

The concurrence of these two national assemblies served, no doubt, to

increase the king’s power over the people, and raised him to an

authority more absolute than any prince in a simple monarchy, even by

means of military force, is ever able to attain. But there are certain

bounds, beyond which the most slavish submission cannot be extended. All

the late innovations, particularly the dissolution of the smaller

monasteries, and the imminent danger to which all the rest were

exposed,[*] [11] had bred discontent among the people, and had disposed

them to revolt. The expelled monks, wandering about the country, excited

both the piety and compassion of men; and as the ancient religion took

hold of the populace by powerful motives, suited to vulgar capacity, it

was able, now that it was brought into apparent hazard, to raise the

strongest zeal in its favor.[**] Discontents had even reached some of

the nobility and gentry, whose ancestors had founded the monasteries,

and who placed a vanity in those institutions, as well as reaped some

benefit from them, by the provisions which they afforded them for their

younger children.

* See note L, at the end of the volume.

** Strype, vol. i. p. 249.

The more superstitious were interested for the souls of their

fore-fathers, which, they believed, must now lie during many ages in

the torments of purgatory, for want of masses to relieve them. It seemed

unjust to abolish pious institutions for the faults, real or pretended,

of individuals. Even the most moderate and reasonable deemed it somewhat

iniquitous, that men who had been invited into a course of life by all

the laws, human and divine, which prevailed in their country, should be

turned out of their possessions, and so little care be taken of their

future subsistence. And when it was observed, that the rapacity and

bribery of the commissioners and others, employed in visiting the

monasteries, intercepted much of the profits resulting from these

confiscations, it tended much to increase the general discontent.[*]

But the people did not break into open sedition till the complaints of

the secular clergy concurred with those of the regular. As Cromwell’s

person was little acceptable to the ecclesiastics, the authority which

he exercised, being so new, so absolute, so unlimited, inspired them

with disgust and terror. He published, in the king’s name, without the

consent either of parliament or convocation, an ordinance by which

he retrenched many of the ancient holy days; prohibited several

superstitions gainful to the clergy, such as pilgrimages, images,

relics; and even ordered the incumbents in the parishes to set apart a

considerable portion of their revenue for repairs and for the support of

exhibitioners and the poor of their parish. The secular priests, finding

themselves thus reduced to a grievous servitude, instilled into the

people those discontents which they had long harbored in their own

bosoms.

The first rising was in Lincolnshire. It was headed by Dr. Mackrel,

prior of Barlings, who was disguised like a mean mechanic, and who

bore the name of Captain Cobler. This tumultuary army amounted to above

twenty thousand men;[**] but notwithstanding their number, they showed

little disposition of proceeding to extremities against the king, and

seemed still overawed by his authority.

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 223.

** Burnet, vol. i. p. 227. Herbert.

They acknowledged him to be supreme head of the church of England; but

they complained of suppressing the monasteries, of evil counsellors, of

persons meanly born raised to dignity, of the danger to which the jewels

and plate of their parochial churches were exposed; and they prayed

the king to consult the nobility of the realm concerning the redress

of these grievances.[*] Henry was little disposed to entertain

apprehensions of danger, especially from a low multitude whom he

despised. He sent forces against the rebels, under the command of the

duke of Suffolk; and he returned them a very sharp answer to their

petition. There were some gentry whom the populace had constrained to

take part with them, and who kept a secret correspondence with Suffolk.

They informed him, that resentment against the king’s reply was the

chief cause which retained the malecontents in arms, and that a milder

answer would probably suppress the rebellion. Henry had levied a great

force at London, with which he was preparing to march against the

rebels; and being so well supported by power, he thought that, without

losing his dignity, he might now show them some greater condescension.

He sent a new proclamation, requiring them to return to their obedience,

with secret assurances of pardon. This expedient had its effect: the

populace was dispersed: Mackrel and some of their leaders fell into

the king’s hands, and were executed: the greater part of the multitude

retired peaceably to their usual occupations: a few of the more

obstinate fled to the north, where they joined the insurrection that was

raised in those parts.

The northern rebels, as they were more numerous, were also on other

accounts more formidable than those of Lincolnshire; because the people

were there more accustomed to arms, and because of their vicinity to

the Scots, who might make advantage of these disorders. One Aske, a

gentleman, had taken the command of them, and he possessed the art of

governing the populace. Their enterprise they called the “pilgrimage

of grace:” some priests marched before in the habits of their order,

carrying crosses in their hands: in their banners was woven a crucifix,

with the representation of a chalice, and of the five wounds of

Christ:[**] they wore on their sleeve an emblem of the five wounds, with

the name of Jesus wrought in the middle: they all took an oath, that

they had entered into the pilgrimage of grace from no other motive than

their love to God, their care of the king’s person and issue, their

desire of purifying the nobility, of driving base-born persons from

about the king, of restoring the church, and of suppressing heresy.

Allured by these fair pretences, about forty thousand men from the

counties of York, Durham, Lancaster, and those northern provinces,

flocked to their standard; and their zeal, no less than their numbers,

inspired the court with apprehensions.

* Herbert, p. 410.

** Fox, vol. ii. p. 992.

The earl of Shrewsbury, moved by his regard for the king’s service,

raised forces, though at first without any commission, in order to

oppose the rebels. The earl of Cumberland repulsed them from his castle

of Skipton: Sir Ralph Evers defended Scarborough Castle against them:[*]

Courtney, marquis of Exeter, the king’s cousin-german, obeyed orders

from court, and levied troops. The earls of Huntingdon, Derby, and

Rutland imitated his example. The rebels, however, prevailed in taking

both Hull and York: they had laid siege to Pomfret Castle, into which

the archbishop of York and Lord Darsy had thrown themselves. It was soon

surrendered to them; and the prelate and nobleman, who secretly wished

success to the insurrection, seemed to yield to the force imposed on

them, and joined the rebels.

* Stowe, p. 574. Baker, p. 258.

The duke of Norfolk was appointed general of the king’s forces against

the northern rebels; and as he headed the party at court which supported

the ancient religion, he was also suspected of bearing some favor to the

cause which he was sent to oppose. His prudent conduct, however, seems

to acquit him of this imputation. He encamped near Doncaster, together

with the earl of Shrewsbury; and as his army was small, scarcely

exceeding five thousand men, he made choice of a post where he had a

river in front, the ford of which he purposed to defend against the

rebels. They had intended to attack him in the morning; but during

the night there fell such violent rains as rendered the river utterly

unpassable; and Norfolk wisely laid hold of the opportunity to enter

into treaty with them. In order to open the door for negotiation,

he sent them a herald; whom Aske, their leader, received with great

ceremony; he himself sitting in a chair of state, with the archbishop

of York on one hand, and Lord Darcy on the other. It was agreed that

two gentlemen should be despatched to the king with proposals from the

rebels; and Henry purposely delayed giving an answer, and allured them

with hopes of entire satisfaction, in expectation that necessity

would soon oblige them to disperse themselves. Being informed that his

artifice had in a great measure succeeded, he required them instantly

to lay down their arms, and submit to mercy; promising a pardon to all,

except six whom he named, and four whom he reserved to himself the power

of naming. But though the greater part of the rebels had gone home for

want of subs stence, they had entered into the most solemn engagements

to return to their standards in case the king’s answer should not

prove satisfactory. Norfolk, therefore, soon found himself in the same

difficulty as before; and he opened again a negotiation with the leaders

of the multitude. He engaged them to send three hundred persons to

Doncaster with proposals for an accommodation; and he hoped, by intrigue

and separate interests, to throw dissension among so great a number.

Aske himself had intended to be one of the deputies, and he required a

hostage for his security: but the king, when consulted, replied, that he

knew no gentleman, or other, whom he esteemed so little as to put him in

pledge for such a villain. The demands of the rebels were so exorbitant,

that Norfolk rejected them; and they prepared again to decide the

contest by arms. They were as formidable as ever, both by their numbers

and spirit; and notwithstanding the small river which lay between them

and the royal army, Norfolk had great reason to dread the effects of

their fury. But while they were preparing to pass the ford, rain fell

a second time in such abundance, as made it impracticable for them to

execute their design; and the populace, partly reduced to necessity by

want of provisions, partly struck with superstition at being thus again

disappointed by the same accident, suddenly dispersed themselves. The

duke of Norfolk, who had received powers for that end, forwarded the

dispersion by the promise of a general amnesty; and the king ratified

this act of clemency. He published, however, a manifesto against the

rebels, and an answer to their complaints; in which he employed a very

lofty style, suited to so haughty a monarch. He told them, that they

ought no more to pretend giving a judgment with regard to government,

that a blind man with regard to colors. “And we,” he added, “with our

whole council, think it right strange that ye, who be but brutes and

inexpert folk, do take upon you to appoint us who be meet or not for our

council.”

{1537.} As this pacification was not likely to be of long continuance,

Norfolk was ordered to keep his army together, and to march into the

northern parts, in order to exact a general submission. Lord Darcy, as

well as Aske, was sent for to court; and the former, upon his refusal

or delay to appear, was thrown into prison. Every place was full

of jealousy and complaints. A new insurrection broke out, headed by

Musgrave and Tilby; and the rebels besieged Carlisle with thousand men.

Being repulsed by that city, they were encountered in their retreat by

Norfolk, who put them to flight; and having made prisoners of all their

officers, except Musgrave, who escaped, he instantly put them to death

by martial law, to the number of seventy persons. An attempt made by Sir

Francis Bigot and Halam to surprise Hull, met with no better success;

and several other risings were suppressed by the vigilance of Norfolk.

The king, enraged by these multiplied revolts, was determined not to

adhere to the general pardon which he had granted; and from a movement

of his usual violence he made the innocent suffer for the guilty.

Norfolk, by command from his master, spread the royal banner, and,

wherever he thought proper, executed martial law in the punishment of

offenders. Besides Aske, leader of the first insurrection, Sir Robert

Constable, Sir John Bulmer, Sir Thomas Piercy, Sir Stephen Hamilton,

Nicholas Tempest, William Lumley, and many others, were thrown into

prison; and most of them were condemned and executed. Lord Hussey was

found guilty, as an accomplice in the insurrection of Lincolnshire, and

was executed at Lincoln. Lord Darcy, though he pleaded compulsion, and

appealed for his justification to a long life spent in the service of

the crown, was beheaded on Tower Hill. Before his execution, he accused

Norfolk of having secretly encouraged the rebels; but Henry, either

sensible of that nobleman’s services, and convinced of his fidelity

or afraid to offend one of such extensive power and great capacity,

rejected the information. Being now satiated with punishing the rebels,

he published anew a general pardon, to which he faithfully adhered;

[*] and he erected, by patent, a court of justice at York, for deciding

lawsuits in the northern counties; a demand which had been made by the

rebels.

Soon after this prosperous success, an event happened which crowned

Henry’s joy--the birth of a son, who was baptized by the name of

Edward. Yet was not his happiness without alloy: the queen died two days

after.**

* Herbert, p. 428.

** Strype, vol. ii. p. 6.

But a son had so long been ardently wished for by Henry, and was now

become so necessary, in order to prevent disputes with regard to the

succession, after the acts declaring the two princesses illegitimate,

that the king’s affliction was drowned in his joy, and he expressed

great satisfaction on the occasion. The prince, not six days old, was

created prince of Wales, duke of Cornwall, and earl of Chester. Sir

Edward Seymour, the queen’s brother, formerly made Lord Beauchamp, was

raised to the dignity of earl of Hertford. Sir William Fitz-Williams,

high admiral, was created earl of Southampton; Sir William Paulet, Lord

St. John; Sir John Russel, Lord Russel.

{1538.} The suppression of the rebellion and the birth of a son, as they

confirmed Henry’s authority at home, increased his consideration among

foreign princes, and made his alliance be courted by all parties. He

maintained, however, a neutrality in the wars which were carried on with

various success, and without any decisive event, between Charles and

Francis; and though inclined more to favor the latter, he determined not

to incur, without necessity, either hazard or expense on his account. A

truce concluded about this time between these potentates, and afterwards

prolonged for ten years, freed him from all anxiety on account of his

ally, and reestablished the tranquillity of Europe.

Henry continued desirous of cementing a union with the German

Protestants; and for that purpose he sent Christopher Mount to a

congress which they held at Brunswick; but that minister made no great

progress in his negotiation. The princes wished to know what were the

articles in their confession which Henry disliked; and they sent new

ambassadors to him, who had orders both to negotiate and to dispute.

They endeavored to convince the king, that he was guilty of a mistake

in administering the eucharist in one kind only, in allowing private

masses, and in requiring the celibacy of the clergy.[*]

* Collier, vol. ii. p. 145, from the Cott. Lib. Cleopatra,

E. 5, fol 173.

Henry would by no means acknowledge any error in these particulars; and

was displeased that they should pretend to prescribe rules to so great

a monarch and theologian. He found arguments and syllogisms enough to

defend his cause; and he dismissed the ambassadors without coming to

any conclusion. Jealous, also, lest his own subjects should become

such theologians as to question his tenets, he used great precaution

in publishing that translation of the Scripture which was finished this

year. He would only allow a copy of it to be deposited in some parish

churches, where it was fixed by a chain: and he took care to inform the

people by proclamation, “that this indulgence was not the effect of

his duty, but of his goodness and his liberality to them: who therefore

should use it moderately, for the increase of virtue, not of strife: and

he ordered that no man should read the Bible aloud, so as to disturb

the priest while he sang mass, nor presume to expound doubtful places

without advice from the learned.” In this measure, as in the rest, he

still halted half way between the Catholics and the Protestants.

There was only one particular in which Henry was quite decisive; because

he was there impelled by his avarice, or, more properly-speaking, his

rapacity, the consequence of his profusion: this measure was the entire

destruction of the monasteries. The present opportunity seemed favorable

for that great enterprise, while the suppression of the late rebellion

fortified and increased the royal authority; and as some of the

abbots were suspected of having encouraged the insurrection, and of

corresponding with the rebels, the king’s resentment was further incited

by that motive. Anew visitation was appointed of all the monasteries in

England; and a pretence only being wanted for their suppression, it was

easy for a prince, possessed of such unlimited power, and seconding the

present humor of a great part of the nation, to find or feign one. The

abbots and monks knew the danger to which they were exposed; and having

learned by the example of the lesser monasteries that nothing

could withstand the king’s will, they were most of them induced, in

expectation of better treatment, to make a voluntary resignation of

their houses. Where promises failed of effect, menaces and even extreme

violence were employed; and as several of the abbots, since the breach

with Rome, had been named by the court with a view to this event, the

king’s intentions were the more easily effected. Some, also, having

secretly embraced the doctrine of the reformation, were glad to be freed

from their vows; and on the whole, the design was conducted with such

success, than in less than two years the king had got possession of all

the monastic revenues.

In several places, particularly the county of Oxford, great interest was

made to preserve some convents of women, who, as they lived in the most

irreproachable manner, justly merited, it was thought, that their houses

should be saved from the general destruction.[*]

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 328.

There appeared, also, great difference between the case of nuns and that

of friars; and the one institution might be laudable, while the other

was exposed to much blame. The males of all ranks, if endowed with

industry might be of service to the public; and none of them could want

employment suited to his station and capacity. But a woman of family who

failed of a settlement in the married state,--an accident to which such

persons were more liable than women of lower station,--had really

no rank which she properly filled; and a convent was a retreat both

honorable and agreeable, from the inutility, and often want, which

attended her situation. But the king was determined to abolish

monasteries of every denomination; and probably thought that these

ancient establishments would be the sooner forgotten, if no remains of

them of any kind were allowed to subsist in the kingdom.

The better to reconcile the people to this great innovation, stories

were propagated of the detestable lives of the friars in many of the

convents; and great care was taken to defame those whom the court had

determined to ruin. The relics also and other superstitions, which had

so long been the object of the people’s veneration, were exposed to

their ridicule; and the religious spirit, now less bent on exterior

observances and sensible objects, was encouraged in this new direction.

It is needless to be prolix in an enumeration of particulars: Protestant

historians mention on this occasion, with great triumph, the sacred

repositories of convents; the parings of St. Edmond’s toes; some of

the coals that roasted St. Laurence; the girdle of the Virgin shown in

eleven several places; two or three heads of St. Ursula; the felt of St

Thomas of Lancaster, an infallible cure for the headache; part of St.

Thomas of Canterbury’s shirt, much reverenced by big-bellied women; some

relics, an excellent preventive against rain; others, a remedy to weeds

in corn. But such fooleries, as they are to be found in all ages

and nations, and even took place during the most refined periods of

antiquity, form no particular or violent reproach to the Catholic

religion.

There were also discovered, or said to be discovered, in the monasteries

some impostures of a more artificial nature. At Hales, in the county

of Glocester, there had been shown, during several ages, the blood of

Christ, brought from Jerusalem; and it is easy to imagine the veneration

with which such a relic was regarded. A miraculous circumstance also

attended this miraculous relic; the sacred blood was not visible to any

one in mortal sin, even when set before him; and till he had performed

good works sufficient for his absolution, it would not deign to

discover itself to him. At the dissolution of the monastery, the whole

contrivance was detected. Two of the monks, who were let into the

secret, had taken the blood of a duck, which they renewed every

week: they put it in a phial, one side of which consisted of thin

and transparent crystal, the other of thick and opaque. When any rich

pilgrim arrived, they were sure to show him the dark side of the phial,

till masses and offerings had expiated his offences and then, finding

his money, or patience, or faith, nearly exhausted, they made him happy

by turning the phial.[*]

A miraculous crucifix had been kept at Boxley, in Kent, and bore the

appellation of the “rood of grace.” The lips, and eyes, and head of

the image moved on the approach of its votaries. Hilsey, bishop of

Rochester, broke the crucifix at St. Paul’s Cross, and showed to the

whole people the springs and wheels by which it had been secretly moved.

A great wooden idol, revered in Wales, called Darvel Gatherin, was

also brought to London, and cut in pieces; and by a cruel refinement

in vengeance, it was employed as fuel to burn friar Forest,[**] who was

punished for denying the supremacy, and for some pretended heresies.

A finger of St. Andrew, covered with a thin plate of silver, had been

pawned by a convent for a debt of forty pounds; but as the king’s

commissioners refused to pay the debt, people made themselves merry with

the poor creditor on account of his pledge.

* Herbert, p. 431, 432. Stowe, p. 575.

** Goodwin’s Annals. Stowe, p. 575. Herbert. Baker, p. 286.

But of all the instruments of ancient superstition, no one was so

zealously destroyed as the shrine of Thomas à Becket, commonly called

St. Thomas of Canterbury. This saint owed his canonization to the

zealous defence which he had made for clerical privileges; and on

that account also the monks had extremely encouraged the devotion of

pilgrimages towards his tomb, and numberless were the miracles which

they pretended his relics wrought in favor of his devout votaries. They

raised his body once a year; and the day on which this ceremony was

performed, which was called the day of his translation, was a general

holiday: every fiftieth year there was celebrated a jubilee to his

honor, which lasted fifteen days: plenary indulgences were then granted

to all that visited his tomb; and a hundred thousand pilgrims have been

registered at a time in Canterbury. The devotion towards him had quite

effaced in that place the adoration of the Deity; nay, even that of the

Virgin. At God’s altar, for instance, there were offered in one year

three pounds two shillings and sixpence; at the Virgin’s, sixty-three

pounds five shillings and sixpence; at St. Thomas’s, eight hundred and

thirty-two pounds twelve shillings and threepence. But next year the

disproportion was still greater; there was not a penny offered at God’s

altar; the Virgin’s gained only four pounds one shilling and eight

pence; but St. Thomas had got for his share nine hundred and fifty-four

pounds six shillings and threepence.[*] Lewis VII. of France had made

a pilgrimage to this miraculous tomb, and had bestowed on the shrine a

jewel, esteemed the richest in Christendom. It is evident how obnoxious

to Henry a saint of this character must appear, and how contrary to all

his projects for degrading the authority of the court of Rome. He not

only pillaged the rich shrine dedicated to St. Thomas; he made the saint

himself be cited to appear in court, and be tried and condemned as

a traitor: he ordered his name to be struck out of the calendar; the

office for his festival to be expunged from all breviaries; his bones to

be burned, and the ashes to be thrown in the air.

On the whole, the king at different times suppressed six hundred and

forty-five monasteries; of which twenty-eight had abbots that enjoyed a

seat in parliament. Ninety colleges were demolished in several counties;

two thousand three hundred and seventy-four chantries and free chapels;

a hundred and ten hospitals. The whole revenue of these establishments

amounted to one hundred and sixty-one thousand one hundred pounds.[**]

It is worthy of observation, that all the lands and possessions and

revenue of England had, a little before this period, been rated at four

millions a year; so that the revenues of the monks, even comprehending

the lesser monasteries, did not exceed the twentieth part of the

national income; a sum vastly inferior to what is commonly apprehended.

The lands belonging to the convents were usually let at very low rent;

and the farmers, who regarded themselves as a species of proprietors,

took always care to renew their leases before they expired.[***] [13]

* Burnet, vol. i. p. 244.

** Lord Herbert. Camden. Speed.

*** See note M, at the end of the volume.

Great murmurs were every where excited on account of these violences;

and men much questioned whether priors and monks, who were only trustees

or tenants for life, could, by any deed, however voluntary, transfer to

the king the entire property of their estates, In order to reconcile the

people to such mighty innovations, they were told that the king would

never thenceforth have occasion to levy taxes, but would be able, from

the abbey lands alone, to bear, during war as well as peace, the whole

charges of government.[*] While such topics were employed to appease the

populace, Henry took an effectual method of interesting the nobility and

gentry in the success of his measures:[**] he either made a gift of the

revenues of convents to his favorites and courtiers, or sold them at low

prices, or exchanged them for other lands on very disadvantageous terms.

He was so profuse in these liberalities, that he is said to have given

a woman the whole revenue of a convent, as a reward for making a pudding

which happened to gratify his palate.[***] He also settled pensions on

the abbots and priors, proportioned to their former revenues or to their

merits; and gave each monk a yearly pension of eight marks: he erected

six new bishoprics, Westminster, Oxford, Peterborough, Bristol, Chester,

and Glocester; of which five subsist at this day: and by all these means

of expense and dissipation, the profit which the king reaped by the

seizure of church lands fell much short of vulgar opinion. As the ruin

of convents had been foreseen some years before it happened, the monks

had taken care to secrete most of their stock, furniture, and plate; so

that the spoils of the great monasteries bore not, in these respects,

any proportion to those of the lesser.

* Coke’s 4th Inst. fol. 44.

** Dugdale’s Warwickshire, p. 800.

*** Fuller.

Besides the lands possessed by the monasteries, the regular clergy

enjoyed a considerable part of the benefices of England, and of the

tithes annexed to them; and these were also at this time transferred to

the crown, and by that means passed into the hands of laymen; an abuse

which many zealous churchmen regarded as the most criminal sacrilege.

The monks were formerly much at their ease in England, and enjoyed

revenues which exceeded the regular and stated expense of the house. We

read of the abbey of Chertsey, in Surrey, which possessed seven hundred

and forty-four pounds a year, though it contained only fourteen monks:

that of Furnese, in the county of Lincoln, was valued at nine hundred

and sixty pounds a year, and contained but thirty.[*] In order to

dissipate their revenues, and support popularity, the monks lived in a

hospitable manner; and besides the poor maintained from their offals,

there were many decayed gentlemen who passed their lives in travelling

from convent to convent, and were entirely subsisted at the tables of

the friars. By this hospitality, as much as by their own inactivity,

did the convents prove nurseries of idleness; but the king, not to give

offence by too sudden an innovation, bound the new proprietors of

abbey lands to support the ancient hospitality. But this engagement was

fulfilled in very few places, and for a very short time.

* Burnet, vol. i p. 237.

It is easy to imagine the indignation with which the intelligence of

all these acts of violence was received at Rome; and how much the

ecclesiastics of that court, who had so long kept the world in

subjection by high-sounding epithets and by holy execrations, would now

vent their rhetoric against the character and conduct of Henry. The pope

was at last incited to publish the bull which had been passed against

that monarch; and in a public manner he delivered over his soul to the

devil, and his dominions to the first invader. Libels were dispersed, in

which he was anew compared to the most furious persecutors in antiquity;

and the preference was now given to their side: he had declared war with

the dead, whom the pagans themselves respected; was at open hostility

with Heaven; and had engaged in professed enmity with the whole host

of saints and angels. Above all, he was often reproached with his

resemblance to the emperor Julian, whom, it was said, he imitated in

his apostasy and learning, though he fell short of him in morals. Henry

could distinguish in some of these libels the style and animosity of

his kinsman Pole; and he was thence incited to vent his rage, by every

possible expedient, on that famous cardinal.

Reginald de la Pole, or Reginald Pole, was descended from the royal

family, being fourth son of the countess of Salisbury, daughter of the

duke of Clarence. He gave in early youth indications of that fine genius

and generous disposition by which, during his whole life, he was so

much distinguished and Henry, having conceived great friendship for him,

intended to raise him to the highest ecclesiastical dignities; and, as

a pledge of future favors, he conferred on him the deanery of Exeter,[*]

the better to support him in his education. Pole was carrying on his

studies in the university of Paris at the time when the king solicited

the suffrages of that learned body in favor of his divorce; but though

applied to by the English agent, he declined taking any part in the

affair. Henry bore this neglect with more temper than was natural

to him; and he appeared unwilling, on that account, to renounce all

friendship with a person whose virtues and talents, he hoped, would

prove useful as well as ornamental to his court and kingdom. He allowed

him still to possess his deanery, and gave him permission to finish his

studies at Padua: he even paid him some court, in order to bring him

into his measures; and wrote to him, while in that university, desiring

him to give his opinion freely with regard to the late measures taken in

England for abolishing the papal authority. Pole had now contracted an

intimate friendship with all persons eminent for dignity or merit in

Italy--Sadolet, Bembo, and other revivers of true taste and learning;

and he was moved by these connections, as well as by religious zeal, to

forget, in some respect, the duty which he owed to Henry, his benefactor

and his sovereign. He replied by writing a treatise of the Unity of the

Church, in which he inveighed against the king’s supremacy, his divorce,

his second marriage; and he even exhorted the emperor to revenge on him

the injury done to the imperial family and to the Catholic cause.

Henry, though provoked beyond measure at this outrage, dissembled his

resentment; and he sent a message to Pole, desiring him to return to

England, in order to explain certain passages in his book which he

found somewhat obscure and difficult. Pole was on his guard against this

insidious invitation; and was determined to remain in Italy, where he

was universally beloved.

The pope and emperor thought themselves obliged to provide for a man

of Pole’s eminence and dignity, who, in support of their cause, had

sacrificed all his pretensions to fortune in his own country. He was

created a cardinal; and though he took not higher orders than those of a

deacon, he was sent legate into Flanders about the year 1536.[**]

* Goodwin’s Annals

** Herbert.

Henry was sensible that Pole’s chief intention in choosing that

employment, was to foment the mutinous disposition of the English

Catholics; and he therefore remonstrated in so vigorous a manner with

the queen of Hungary, regent of the Low Countries, that she dismissed

the legate, without allowing him to exercise his functions. The enmity

which he bore to Pole was now as open as it was violent; and the

cardinal, on his part, kept no further measures in his intrigues against

Henry. He is even suspected of having aspired to the crown, by means of

a marriage with the lady Mary; and the king was every day more alarmed

by informations which he received of the correspondence maintained in

England by that fugitive. Courtney, marquis of Exeter, had entered

into a conspiracy with him; Sir Edward Nevil, brother to the lord

Abergavenny; Sir Nicholas Carew, master of horse, and knight of the

garter; Henry de la Pole, Lord Montacute, and Sir Geoffrey de la Pole,

brothers to the cardinal. These persons were indicted, and tried,

and convicted, before Lord Audley, who presided in the trial as high

steward; they were all executed, except Sir Geoffrey de la Pole, who was

pardoned; and he owed this grace to his having first carried to the king

secret intelligence of the conspiracy. We know little concerning the

justice or iniquity of the sentence pronounced against these men:

we only know, that the condemnation of a man who was at that time

prosecuted by the court, forms no presumption of his guilt; though,

as no historian of credit mentions in the present case any complaint

occasioned by these trials, we may presume that sufficient evidence was

produced against the marquis of Exeter and his associates.[*]

* Herbert in Kennet, p. 216.