glorious cause; you waste yourself in a distant enterprise. Is it that
your soldiers demand this unhappy preference? are your soldiers so eager
to face their old eastern enemies? But what soldiers, Cæsar! Your
Spaniards?--your own Spaniards? Ah! if they could hear the noble
daughter of Isabella, wasted with misery, appealing in her most
righteous cause to their faithful hearts! The memory of that illustrious
lady, well I know, is not yet so blotted from their recollection that a
daughter worthy of so great a mother could pray to them in vain. Were
they told that a princess of Spain, child of the proudest sovereign of
that proud empire, after twenty years of marriage, had been driven out
as if she had been the bastard of some clown or huckster that had crept
from her filth into the royal bed, and to make room for a vile
harlot--think you they would tamely bear an injury which the basest of
mankind would wash out in blood? Think you that, when there scarce
breathes a man so poor of soul who would not risk his life to requite so
deep an indignity, the gentlemen of Spain will hesitate to revenge the
daughter of their sovereign? Shall it go out among the nations to your
shame and everlasting ignominy, that Spain sits down under the insult
because she is faint-hearted--because she is feeble, and dares not move?
It cannot be. Gather them together, Cæsar. Call your musters; I will
speak to them--I will tell them that the child and grandchild of
Isabella of Castile are dishonoured and robbed of their inheritance, and
at the mention of that name you shall see them reverse their sails, and
turn back of themselves their vessels' prows.
[Sidenote: Not for herself, but for the Church, for the faith, for
England.]
"'But not for Catherine's sake do I now stand a suitor either to you or
them. For herself she desires nothing; she utters no complaint over her
most unrighteous fate. You are now in the meridian of your glory, and
some portion of its lustre should be hers; yet she is miserable, and she
endures her misery. Each fresh triumph of your arms entails on her some
fresh oppression; but hers is no selfish sorrow for herself or for her
cause. She implores you, Cæsar, for the sake of England, of that England
into which from her own noble stem she was once engrafted, which she
loves and must love as her second country. Her private interests are
nothing to her; but if it so happen that the cause of this illustrious
and most dear land is so bound up in hers--that if she be neglected,
England must forfeit her place among the nations--must be torn with
civil distractions, and be plunged in ruin and disaster
irretrievable--if the cause of religion be so joined to her cause that
her desertion is the desertion of the Holy Church, that the ancient
faith will be destroyed, new sects will spring up, not in that island
only, which at her coming she found so true to its creed, but spreading
like contagion, and bringing to confusion the entire communion of the
faithful (and this is no conjectural danger: it is even now come--it is
among us; already, in England, to be a friend to the old customs of the
Church is fraught with deadly peril)--finally, if in this matter there
be every motive which ought to affect a prince who loves the name of
Christ--then--then she does entreat you not to delay longer in hastening
to deliverance of the Christian commonwealth, because it happens that
the common cause is her cause--because Ferdinand of Spain was her
father--because Isabella was her mother--because she is your own
aunt--because her most ruthless enemies have never dared to hint that in
word or deed she has been unworthy of her ancestors, or of the noble
realm from which she sprang.
[Sidenote: By all which Charles holds dear she implores him to come to
her assistance.]
"'She implores you, if God has given you strength to defy so powerful an
enemy as the Turk, in that case, not to shrink from marching against a
foe more malignant than the Turk, where the peril is nothing, and
victory is sure. By the ties of blood, which are so close between you
and her--by the honour of Spain which is compromised--by the welfare of
Christendom, which ought to be so dear to us all--she beseeches you, on
her knees, that you will permit no mean object to divert you from so
holy, so grand, so brilliant an enterprise, when you can vindicate at
once the honour of your family and the glory of that realm which has
made you famous by so many victories, and simultaneously you can shield
the Christian commonwealth from the worst disasters which have menaced
it for centuries.'"
Here terminated this grand apostrophe, too exquisite a composition to be
lost--too useful when hereafter it was to be thrown out as a firebrand
into Europe, although Catherine, happily for herself, had passed away
before her chivalrous knight flung down his cartel for her. A few more
words were, however, in reserve for Henry.
[Sidenote: Concluding anathemas against Henry.]
"I have spoken of Cæsar," he turned and said to him; "I might have
spoken of all Christian princes. Do you seriously think that the King of
France will refuse obedience when the Pope bids him make peace with the
Emperor, and undertake your chastisement? He will obey, doubt it not;
and when you are trampled down under their feet there will be more joy
in Christendom than if the Turks were driven from Constantinople. What
will you do? What will become of your subjects when the ports of the
Continent are closed, as closed they will be, against them and their
commerce? How will they loathe you then? How will you be cast out among
the curses of mankind?[53] When you die you shall have no lawful burial,
and what will happen to your soul I forbear to say. Man is against you;
God is against you; the universe is against you. What can you look for
but destruction?"
The hurricane had reached its height; it spent its fury in its last
gusts. The note changed, the threats ceased, and the beauty of
humiliation and the promises of forgiveness to the penitent closed the
volume.
[Sidenote: Pole's central error.]
[Sidenote: The witness of fact.]
Thus wrote an English subject to his sovereign, and professed afterwards
to be overwhelmed with astonishment when he learnt that his behaviour
was considered unbecoming. As Samuel to Saul, as Nathan to David, as
Elijah to Ahab, so was Reginald Pole to Henry the Eighth, the immediate
messenger of Heaven, making, however, one central and serious error:
that, when between Henry the Eighth and the Papacy there lay to be
contended for, on the one side, liberty, light, and justice--on the
other, tyranny, darkness, and iniquity, in this great duel the Pope was
God's champion, and Henry was the devil's. No pit opened its mouth to
swallow the English bishops; no civil wars wrecked the prosperity of the
country; no foreign power overwhelmed it; no dishonour touched its arms,
except in the short interval when Catherine's daughter restored the
authority of the Papacy, and Pole was Archbishop of Canterbury, and the
last relic of the empire of the Plantagenets in France was lost for
ever. He was pleased with his composition, however. He determined, in
spite of Contarini, to send it. He expected the English council to
believe him when he declared that he had no sinister intention, that he
seriously imagined that a monarch who had taken the Pope by the beard
and hurled him out of the kingdom, would be frightened by the lectures
and threats of a petulant youth.
[Sidenote: Cuthbert Tunstall is desired to undertake the first perusal
of the book.]
On the 27th of May the book was despatched to England by a messenger
from Venice, and with it Pole sent two letters, one to the king, the
other to his friend Cuthbert Tunstall, the Bishop of Durham. The first
contained little more than the credentials of the bearer. The letter to
Tunstall, as well as a verbal message by which it was accompanied, was
to the effect, that the book was long, too long for the king himself to
read; he desired his friend to undertake, and the king to permit him to
undertake, the first perusal. The contents were to be looked upon as a
secret communication between himself and his Majesty; no eye had seen
more than a small portion of what he had written, and that against his
own will. The addresses and apostrophes inserted here and there, which
might seem at first sight questionable, were dramatically introduced
only to give effect to his argument.[54] These statements seem somewhat
adventurous when we think of the correspondence with Cardinal Contarini,
and of Pole's assertion that he was writing less for the king than to
undeceive the English people; nor do we readily acquiesce in the belief
that the invocation to Charles was not intended for Charles's eyes, when
the writer very soon after submitted it to those eyes, and devoted the
energies of years to bring the Spaniards into England.
[Sidenote: Effect of the book in England.]
[Sidenote: Pole is required to return to England and explain himself.]
The messenger arrived early in June. Parliament had just met to receive
the report of the queen's crimes and execution, and the king, occupied
with other business, gladly complied with Pole's request, and left to
others the examination of so bulky a volume. It was placed in the hands
of Tunstall and Starkey. Whether Henry ever read it is not certain. If
he saw it at all, it was at a later period.[55] At once, if any hope or
thought had existed of a return to communion with the Papacy, that hope
was at an end. Written from Italy, the book was accepted as representing
the feeling if not dictated by the instructions of the Ultra-Catholics;
and in such a mood they could only be treated as enemies. So much of its
character as was necessary was laid before Henry, and, on the 14th of
June, within a day or two therefore of its receipt, a courier was
despatched with replies both from Henry himself, from the Bishop of
Durham, Starkey, and Cromwell. If Pole expected to be regarded as a
formidable person, his vanity was seriously mortified. The substance of
what he had written was seen to be sufficiently venomous, but the writer
himself was treated rather as foolish than as wicked, and by the king
was regarded with some kind of pity. Henry wrote (it would seem briefly)
commanding him on his allegiance, all excuses set apart, to return to
England and explain himself.[56]
[Sidenote: Remonstrances of Pole's friends.]
[Sidenote: The king will forgive the book if his forgiveness is asked.]
The summons was more fully explained by Starkey and Tunstall. The former
declared that at the first reading of the book he was so much amazed
and astonished that he knew not what to think except that he was in a
dream.[57] The Bishop of Durham, on whose support Pole seems to have
calculated, condescended to his arguments, and replied in formal
Anglican language, that to separate from the Pope was not to separate
from the unity of the Church: the Head of the Church was Christ, and
unity was unity of doctrine, to which England adhered as truly as Rome:
Pole had made a preposterous mistake, and it had led him into conduct
which at present, if properly atoned for, might be passed over as folly,
and covered and forgotten: if persevered in it would become a crime; but
it was a secret so far, and if promptly repented of, should remain a
secret from all eyes for ever.[58] He was commanded by the government,
he was implored by his friends to return to England, to make his peace
in person, and entreat the king's forgiveness.
[Sidenote: July. Pole protests that his book is a private letter, and
that he meant no harm.]
[Sidenote: The king accepts his declaration, and will overlook his
conduct.]
But neither his friends nor the king understood Pole's character or
comprehended his purpose. He was less foolish, he was more malicious
than they supposed. When the letters reached him, he professed to be
utterly surprised at the reception which his book had met with. He
regretted that the Supremacy Act made it impossible for him to comply
with a command to present himself in England; but he protested so loudly
that he had meant neither injury nor disrespect, he declared so
emphatically that his book was a _bonâ fide_ letter addressed to the
king only, and written for his own eyes and no other's, that at last
Henry believed him, accepted his assurance, and consented to pass over
his impertinence. In July or August he was informed by Starkey "that the
king took the intolerable sharpness of his writings even as they that
most friendly could interpret them. He thought, as few would think, that
the exaggerations, the oft-returning to the same faults, the vehement
exclamations, the hot sentences, the uncomely bitings, the despiteful
comparisons, and likenings, all came of error and not of evil intent.
His Grace supposed his benefits not forgotten, and Pole's love towards
his Highness not utterly quenched. His Majesty was one that forgave and
forgot displeasure, both at once." For his own part, however, Starkey
implored his friend, as he valued his country, his honour, his good
name, to repent himself, as he had desired the king to repent; the king
would not press him or force his conscience; if he could be brought to
reconsider his conduct, he might be assured that it would not be
remembered against him.[59] Simultaneously with, or soon after this
letter, the Bishop of Durham wrote also by the king's order, saying
that, as he objected to return, it should not be insisted on; inasmuch,
however, as he had affirmed so positively that his book was a private
communication, there could be no further reason for preserving any other
copies of it, and if he had such copies in his possession he was called
upon to prove his sincerity by burning them. On his compliance, his
property, which would be forfeited under the Supremacy Act, should
remain in his hands, and he was free to reside in any country which he
might choose.[60]
Pole did not burn his book, nor was it long before he gave the
government reason to regret their forbearance towards him. For the time
he continued in receipt of his income, and the stir which he had created
died away.
There are many scenes in human life which, as a great poet teaches us,
are either sad or beautiful, cheerless or refreshing, according to the
direction from which we approach them.[61] If, on a morning in spring,
we behold the ridges of a fresh-turned ploughed field from their
northern side, our eyes, catching only the shadowed slopes of the
successive furrows, see an expanse of white, the unmelted remains of the
night's hailstorm, or the hoarfrost of the dawn. We make a circuit, or
we cross over and look behind us, and on the very same ground there is
nothing to be seen but the rich brown soil swelling in the sunshine,
warm with promise, and chequered perhaps here and there with a green
blade bursting through the surface. Both images are true to the facts of
nature. Both pictures are created by real objects really existing. The
pleasant certainty, however, remains with us, that the winter is passing
away and summer is coming; the promise of the future is not with the ice
and the sleet, but with the sunshine, with gladness, and hope.
[Sidenote: Other aspects of the condition of England.]
Reginald Pole has shown us the form in which England appeared to him,
and to the Catholic world beyond its shores, bound under an iron yoke,
and sinking down in despair and desolation. To us who have seen the
golden harvests waving over her fields, his loud raving has a sound of
delirium: we perceive only the happy symptoms of lengthening daylight,
bringing with it once more the season of life, and health, and
fertility. But there is a third aspect--and it is this which we must now
endeavour to present to ourselves--of England as it appeared to its own
toiling children in the hour of their trial, with its lights and
shadows, its frozen prejudices and sunny gleams of faith; when day
followed day, and brought no certain change, and men knew not whether
night would prevail or day, or which of the two was most divine--night,
with its starry firmament of saints and ceremonies, or day, with the
single lustre of the Gospel sun. It is idle to try to reproduce such a
time in any single shape or uniform colour. The reader must call his
imagination to his aid, and endeavour, if he can, to see the same object
in many shapes and many colours, to sympathize successively with those
to whom the Reformation was a terror, with those to whom it was the
dearest hope, and those others--the multitude--whose minds could give
them no certain answer, who shifted from day to day, as the impulse of
the moment swayed them.
[Sidenote: Sunday, June 9. Opening of convocation.]
[Sidenote: The gathering of the clergy in St. Paul's.]
When parliament met in June, 1536, convocation as usual assembled with
it. On Sunday, the ninth of the month, the two houses of the clergy were
gathered for the opening of their session in the aisles of St.
Paul's--high and low, hot and cold, brave and cowardly. The great
question of the day, the Reformation of the Church, was one in which
they, the spiritualty of England, might be expected to bear some useful
part. They had as yet borne no part but a part of obstruction. They had
been compelled to sit impatiently, with tied hands, while the lay
legislature prescribed their duties and shaped their laws for them.
Whether they would assume a more becoming posture, was the problem which
they were now met to solve. Gardiner was there, and Bonner, Tunstall,
and Hilsey, Lee, Latimer, and Cranmer; mitred abbots, meditating the
treason for which, before many months were passed, their quartered
trunks would be rotting by the highways; earnest sacramentaries, making
ready for the stake: the spirits of the two ages--the past and the
future--were meeting there in fierce collision; and above them all, in
his vicar-general's chair, sate Cromwell, proud and powerful, lording
over the scowling crowd. The present hour was his. His enemies' turn in
due time would come also.
The mass had been sung, the roll of the organ had died away. It was the
time for the sermon, and Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, rose into
the pulpit. Nine-tenths of all those eyes which were then fixed on him
would have glistened with delight, could they have looked instead upon
his burning. The whole multitude of passionate men were compelled, by a
changed world, to listen quietly while he shot his bitter arrows among
them.
[Sidenote: Latimer in the pulpit.]
We have heard Pole; we will now hear the heretic leader. His object on
the present occasion was to tell the clergy what especially he thought
of themselves; and Latimer was a plain speaker. They had no good opinion
of him. His opinion of them was very bad indeed. His text was from the
sixteenth chapter of St. Luke's Gospel: "The children of this world are
wiser in their generation than the children of light."
[Sidenote: The convocation had sat for seven years.]
[Sidenote: What had the convocation done?]
The race and parentage of all living things, he said, were known by
their fruits. He desired by this test to try the parentage of the
present convocation. They had sat--the men that he saw before him--for
seven years, more or less, session after session. What measures had come
from them? They were the spiritualty--the teachers of the people,
divinely commissioned; said to be and believed to be, children of light;
what had they done?... Mighty evils in those years had been swept away
in England ... but whose hands had been at the work?--was it theirs? For
his part, he knew that they had burned a dead man's bones; he knew that
they had done their best to burn the living man who was then speaking to
them.... What else they had done he knew not.
[Sidenote: England is reformed, but have the clergy reformed England or
has the King?]
The end of your convocation shall show what ye are, he said, turning
direct upon them; the fruit of your consultations shall show what
generation ye be of. What now have ye engendered? what have ye brought
forth? What fruit has come of your long and great assembly? What one
thing that the people have been the better of a hair? That the people be
better learned and taught now than they were in time past, should we
attribute it to your industry, or to the providence of God and the
foreseeing of the King's Grace? Ought we to thank you or the King's
Highness? Whether stirred the other first?--you the king, that ye might
preach, or he you, by his letters, that ye should preach more often? Is
it unknown, think you, how both ye and your curates were in manner by
violence enforced to let books be made, not by you, but by profane and
lay persons? I am bold with you; but I speak to the clergy, not to the
laity. I speak to your faces, not behind your backs.
[Sidenote: Certain things they had produced, but were they good or
evil?]
If, then, they had produced no good thing, what had they produced? There
was false money instead of true. There were dead images instead of a
living Saviour. There was redemption purchased by money, not redemption
purchased by Christ. Abundance of these things were to be found among
them ... and all those pleasant fictions which had been bred at Rome,
the canonizations and expectations, the tot-quots and dispensations, the
pardons of marvellous variety, stationaries and jubilaries, manuaries
and oscularies, pedaries, and such other vanities--these had gracious
reception; these were welcomed gladly in all their multiplicity. There
was the ancient purgatory pick-purse--that which was suaged and cooled
with a Franciscan's cowl laid upon a dead man's back, to the fourth part
of his sins; that which was utterly to be spoiled, but of none other but
the most prudent father the Pope, and of him as oft as he listed--a
pleasant invention, and one so profitable to the feigners, that no
emperor had taken more by taxes of his living subjects than those truly
begotten children of the world obtained by dead men's tributes.
[Sidenote: The parentage of the English spiritualty,]
[Sidenote: And the future which they are to expect.]
This was the modern Gospel--the present Catholic faith,--which the
English clergy loved and taught as faithfully as their brothers in
Italy. "Ye know the proverb," the preacher continued, "'An evil crow an
evil egg.' The children of this world that are known to have so evil a
father the world, so evil a grandfather the devil, cannot choose but be
evil--the devil being such an one as never can be unlike himself. So of
Envy, his well-beloved leman, he begot the World, and left it with
Discord at nurse; which World, after it came to man's estate, had of
many concubines many sons. These are our holy, holy men, that say they
are dead to the world; and none are more lively to the world. God is
taking account of his stewards, as though he should say, 'All good men
in all places accuse your avarice, your exactions, your tyranny. I
commanded you that ye should feed my sheep, and ye earnestly feed
yourselves from day to day, wallowing in delights and idleness. I
commanded you to teach my law; you teach your own traditions, and seek
your own glory. I taught openly, that he that should hear you should
hear Me; he that should despise you should despise Me. I gave you also
keys--not earthly keys, but heavenly. I left my goods, that I have
evermore esteemed, my Word and sacraments, to be dispensed by you. Ye
have not deceived Me, but yourselves: my gifts and my benefits shall be
to your greater damnation. Because ye have despised the clemency of the
Master of the house, ye have deserved the severity of the Judge. Come
forth; let us see an account of your stewardship.'
"And He will visit you; in his good time God will visit you. He will
come; He will not tarry long. In the day in which we look not for Him,
and in the hour which we do not know, He will come and will cut us in
pieces, and will give us our portion with the hypocrites. He will set
us, my brethren, where shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth; and here,
if ye will, shall be the end of our tragedy."[62]
Our glimpses into these scenes fall but fitfully. The sermon has reached
us; but the audience--the five hundred fierce vindictive men who
suffered under the preacher's irony--what they thought of it; with what
feelings on that summer day the heated crowd scattered out of the
cathedral, dispersing to their dinners among the taverns in Fleet-street
and Cheapside--all this is gone, gone without a sound. Here no friendly
informer comes to help us; no penitent malcontent breaks confidence or
lifts the curtain. All is silent.
[Sidenote: Sullen temper of the clergy.]
[Sidenote: Their hopes and prospects.]
Yet, although the special acts of this body were of no mighty moment,
although rarely have so many men been gathered together whose actual
importance has borne so small a proportion to their estimate of
themselves, yet not often, perhaps, has an assembly collected where
there was such heat of passion, such malignity of hatred. For the last
three years the clergy had remained torpid and half stunned, doggedly
obeying the proclamations for the alterations of the service, and
keeping beyond the grasp of the law. But, although too demoralized by
their defeat to attempt resistance, the great body of them still
detested the changes which had been forced upon their acceptance, and
longed for a change which as yet they had not dared to attempt actively
to compass.[63] The keener among the leaders had, however, by this time,
in some degree collected themselves. They had been already watching
their enemies, to strike, if they could see a vulnerable point, and had
masked batteries prepared to unveil. Latimer taunted them with their
inefficiency: he should find, perhaps to his cost, that their arms had
not wholly lost their ancient sinew. To keep clear of suspicion of
favouring heresy, in their duel with the Pope and Papal idolatries, they
knew to be essential to the position of the government. When taunted
with breaking the unity of the Church, the Privy Council were proud of
being able to point to the purity of their doctrines; and although
fighting against a stream too strong for them--contending, in fact,
against Providence itself--the king, Cromwell, and Cranmer struggled
resolutely to maintain this phantom stronghold, which they imagined to
be the key of their defences. The moving party, on the other hand,
inevitably transgressed an unreal and arbitrary boundary; and through
the known sensitiveness of the king on the real presence, with the
defence of which he regarded himself as especially entrusted by the
supremacy, the clergy hoped to recover their advantage, and in striking
heresy to reach the hated vicar-general.
[Sidenote: June 23.]
The sermon was preached on the 9th of June; on the 23d the lower house
of convocation indirectly replied to it, by presenting a list of
complaints on the doctrines which were spreading among the people, the
open blasphemy of holy things, and the tacit or avowed sanction extended
by certain members of the council to the circulation of heretical books.
As an evidence of the progress in the change of opinion, this document
is one of the most remarkable which has come down to us.[64]
[Sidenote: The lower house present a list of heresies commonly taught
among the people.]
After a preface, in which the clergy professed their sincere allegiance
to the crown, the renunciation, utter and complete, of the Bishop of
Rome and all his usurpations and injustices, the abuses which they were
going to describe had, nevertheless, they said, created great disquiet
in the realm, and required immediate attention.
To the slander of this noble realm, the disquietness of the people, and
damage of Christian souls, it was commonly preached, thought, and spoke,
that the sacrament of the altar was lightly to be esteemed.
Lewd persons were not afraid to say, "Why should I see the sacring of
the high mass? Is it anything but a piece of bread or a little pretty
piece Round Robin?"
Of baptism it was said that "It was as lawful to baptize in a tub of
water at home or in a ditch by the wayside as in a font of stone in the
church. The water in the font was but a thing conjured."
[Sidenote: Heresy on the sacraments.]
[Sidenote: Heresy on purgatory.]
Priests, again, were thought to have no more authority to minister
sacraments than laymen. Extreme unction was not a sacrament at all, and
the hallowed oil "no better than the Bishop of Rome's grease and
butter." Confession, absolution, penance, were considered neither
necessary nor useful. Confession "had been invented" (here a stroke was
aimed at Latimer) "to have the secret knowledge of men's hearts and to
pull money out of their purses." "It were enough for men each to confess
his own sins to God in public." The sinner should allow himself to be a
sinner and sin no more. The priest had no concern with him. Purgatory
was a delusion. The soul went straight from the body to heaven or to
hell. Dirige, commendations, masses, suffrages, prayers, almsdeeds,
oblations done for the souls departed out of the world, were vain and
profitless. All sins were put away through Christ. If there were a place
of purgatory, Christ was not yet born.
[Sidenote: On the intersession of saints.]
[Sidenote: On the priesthood.]
The Church was the congregation of good men, and prayer was of the same
efficacy in the air as in a church or chapel. The building called the
church was made to keep the people from the rain and wind, a place where
they might assemble to hear the Word of God. Mass and matins were but a
fraud. The saints had no power to help departed souls. To pray to them,
or to burn candles before their images, was mere idolatry. The saints
could not be mediators. There was one Mediator, Christ. Our Lady was but
a woman, "like a bag of saffron or pepper when the spice was out."[65]
It was as much available to pray to saints "as to whirl a stone against
the wind." "Hallowed water, hallowed bread, hallowed candles, hallowed
ashes, were but vanities. Priests were like other men, and might marry
and have wives like other men."[66]
"The saying and singing of mass, matins, and evensong, was but roaring,
howling, whistling, mumming, conjuring, and juggling," and "the playing
of the organs a foolish vanity." It was enough for a man to believe what
was written in the Gospel--Christ's blood was shed for man's redemption,
let every man believe in Christ and repent of his sins. Finally, as a
special charge against Cromwell, the convocation declared that these
heresies were not only taught by word of mouth, but were set out in
books which were printed and published _cum privilegio_, under the
apparent sanction of the crown.
[Sidenote: Difficulty of toleration.]
[Sidenote: Toleration a principle unknown to rulers or subjects.]
[Sidenote: Obligation of the magistrates to maintain truth.]
[Sidenote: Peculiar disposition of the king.]
Thus were the two parties face to face, and the king had either to make
his choice between them, or with Cromwell's help to coerce them both
into moderation. The modern reader may imagine that he should have left
both alone, have allowed opinion to correct opinion, and truth to win
its own victory. But this "remedy for controversy," so easy now, was
then impossible,--it would have been rejected equally by the governors
and the governed. Deep in the hearts of all Englishmen in that century
lay the conviction, that it was the duty of the magistrate to maintain
truth, as well as to execute justice. Toleration was neither understood
nor desired. The protestants clamoured against persecution, not because
it was persecution, but because truth was persecuted by falsehood; and,
however furiously the hostile factions exclaimed each that the truth was
with them and the falsehood with their enemies, neither the one nor the
other disputed the obligation of the ruling powers to support the truth
in itself. So close the religious convictions of men lay to their hearts
and passions, that, if opinion had been left alone in their own hands,
they would themselves have fought the battle of their beliefs with
sharper weapons than argument. Religion to them was a thing to die for,
or it was nothing. It was therefore fortunate, most fortunate, for the
peace of England, that it possessed in the king a person whose mind, to
a certain extent, sympathized with both parties; to whom both, so long
as they were moderate, appeared to be right; to whom the extravagances
of both were wrong and to be repressed. Protestant and Anglican alike
might look to him with confidence--alike were obliged to fear him;
neither could take him for their enemy, neither for their partisan. He
possessed the peculiarity which has always distinguished practically
effective men, of being advanced, as it is called, only slightly beyond
his contemporaries. The giddy or imaginative genius soars on its own
wings, it may be to cleave its course into the sunlight, and be the
wonder of after times, but more often to fall like Icarus. The man of
working ability tempers his judgment by the opinion of others. He leads
his age--he bears the brunt of the battle--he wins the victory; but the
motive force which bears him forward is not in himself, but in the great
tidal wave of human progress. He is the guide of a great movement, not
the creator of it; and he represents in his own person the highest
average wisdom, combined necessarily in some measure with the mistakes
and prejudices of the period to which he belongs.[67]
[Sidenote: He draws the first articles of religion.]
On receiving the list of grievances, the king, then three weeks married
to Jane Seymour, in the first enjoyment, as some historians require us
to believe, of a guilty pleasure purchased by an infamous murder, drew
up with his own hand,[68] and submitted to the two houses of
convocation, a body of articles, interesting as throwing light upon his
state of mind, and of deeper moment as the first authoritative statement
of doctrine in the Anglican church.
By the duties of his princely office, he said, he held himself obliged,
not only to see God's Word and commandment sincerely believed and
reverently kept and observed, but to prevent also, as far as possible,
contentions and differences of opinion. To his regret he was informed
that there was no such concord in the realm as he desired, but violent
disagreement, not only in matters of usage and ceremony, but in the
essentials of the Christian faith. To avoid the dangerous unquietness,
therefore, which might, perhaps, ensue, and also the great peril to the
souls of his subjects, he had arrived at the following resolutions, to
which he required and commanded obedience.
[Sidenote: On the three creeds.]
I. As concerning the faith, all things were to be held and defended as
true which were comprehended in the whole body and canon of the Bible,
and in the three creeds or symbols. The creeds, as well as the
Scripture, were to be received as the most holy, most sure and
infallible words of God, and as such, "neither to be altered nor
convelled" by any contrary opinion. Whoever refused to accept their
authority "was no member of Christ, or of his spouse the Church," "but a
very infidel, or heretic, or member of the devil, with whom he should
be eternally damned."
[Sidenote: On the sacraments.]
II. Of sacraments generally necessary to all men there were
three--baptism, penance, and the sacrament of the altar.[69]
[Sidenote: Baptism.]
[_a_] Of baptism the people were to be taught that it was ordained in
the New Testament as a thing necessary for everlasting salvation,
according to the saying of Christ, "No man can enter into the kingdom of
heaven except he be born again of water and the Holy Ghost." The
promises of grace attached to the sacrament of baptism appertained not
only to such as had the use of reason, but also to infants, innocents,
and children, who, therefore, ought to be baptized, and by baptism
obtain remission of sin, and be made thereby sons and children of God.
[Sidenote: Penance.]
[_b_] Penance was instituted in the New Testament, and no man who, after
baptism, had fallen into deadly sin, could, without the same, be saved.
As a sacrament it consisted of three parts--contrition, confession, and
amendment. Contrition was the acknowledgment of the filthiness and
abomination of sin, a sorrow and inward shame for having offended God,
and a certain faith, trust, and confidence in the mercy and goodness of
God, whereby the penitent man must conceive certain hope that God would
forgive him his sins, and repute him justified, of the number of his
elect children, not for any worthiness of any merit or work done by the
penitent, but for the only merits of the blood and passion of Jesus
Christ. This faith was strengthened by the special application of
Christ's words and promises, and therefore, to attain such certain
faith, the second part of penance was necessary; that is to say,
confession to a priest (if it might be had), for the absolution given by
a priest was instituted of Christ, to apply the promises of God's grace
to the penitent. Although Christ's death was a full, sufficient
sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for which God forgave sinners
their sin, and the punishment of it; yet all men ought to bring forth
the fruits of penance, prayer, fasting, and almsdeeds, and make
restitution in will and deed to their neighbour if they had done him any
wrong, and to do all other good works of mercy and charity.
[Sidenote: The altar.]
[_c_] In the sacrament of the altar, under the form and figure of bread
and wine, was verily, substantially, and really contained and
comprehended the very self-same body and blood of our Saviour Christ,
which was born of the Virgin Mary, and suffered upon the cross for man's
redemption; and under the same form and figure of bread and wine was
corporeally, really, and in very substance exhibited, distributed, and
received of all them which receive the said sacrament.
[Sidenote: Justification.]
III. By justification was signified remission of sin and acceptance into
the favour of God; that is to say, man's perfect renovation in Christ.
Sinners obtained justification by contrition and faith, joined with
charity; not as though contrition, or faith, or works proceeding
therefrom, could worthily merit the said justification, for the only
mercy and grace of the Father promised freely unto us for the Son's
sake, and the merits of his blood and passion, were the only sufficient
and worthy causes thereof; notwithstanding God required us to show good
works in fulfilling his commands, and those who lived after the flesh
would be undoubtedly damned.
[Sidenote: Custom and ritual.]
In these articles, which exhausted the essential doctrines of the faith,
the principles of the two religions are seen linked together in
connexion, yet without combination, a first effort at the compromise
between the old and the new which was only successfully completed in the
English Prayer-book. The king next went on to those matters of custom
and ritual, which, under the late system, had constituted the whole of
religion, and which the Reformers were now trampling upon and insulting.
Under mediæval Catholicism the cycle of life had been enveloped in
symbolism; each epoch from birth to death was attended with its
sacrament, each act of every hour with its special consecration: the
days were all anniversaries; the weeks, the months, the seasons, as they
revolved, brought with them their sacred associations and holy memories;
and out of imagery and legend, simply taught and simply believed,
innocent and beautiful practices had expanded as never-fading flowers by
the roadside of existence.
[Sidenote: Obligation of ceremonies long established.]
[Sidenote: Which be not lightly contemned,]
[Sidenote: Yet have no virtue or power in themselves.]
Concerning these, Henry wrote: "As to having vestments in doing God's
service, such as be and have been most part used--the sprinkling of holy
water to put us in remembrance of our baptism, and the blood of Christ
sprinkled for our redemption on the cross--the giving of holy bread, to
put us in remembrance of the sacrament of the altar, that all Christians
be one body mystical in Christ, as the bread is made of many grains, and
yet but one loaf--the bearing of candles on Candlemas-day, in memory of
Christ the spiritual light--the giving of ashes on Ash-Wednesday, to put
in remembrance every Christian man in the beginning of Lent and penance
that he is but ashes and earth, and thereto shall return--the bearing of
palms on Palm Sunday, in memory of the receiving of Christ into
Jerusalem a little before his death, that we may have the same desire to
receive Him into our hearts--creeping to the cross, and humbling
ourselves on Good Friday before the cross, and there offering unto
Christ before the same, and kissing of it in memory of our redemption by
Christ made upon the cross--setting up the sepulture of Christ, whose
body, after his death, was buried--the hallowing of the font, and other
like exorcisms and benedictions by the ministers of Christ's Church, and
all other like laudable customs, rites, and ceremonies,--they be not to
be contemned and cast away, but to be used and continued as good and
laudable, to put us in remembrance of those spiritual things that they
do signify, not suffering them to be forgot, or to be put in oblivion,
but renewing them in our memories. But none of these ceremonies have
power to remit sin, but only to stir and lift up our minds unto God, by
whom only our sins be forgiven."
So, too, of the saints. "The saints may be honoured because they are
with Christ in glory; and though Christ be the only Mediator, yet we may
pray to the saints to pray for us and with us unto Almighty God; we may
say to them, 'All holy angels and saints in heaven, pray for us and with
us unto the Father, that for his dear Son Jesus Christ's sake we may
have grace of Him and remission of our sins, with an earnest purpose to
keep his holy commandments, and never to decline from the same again
unto our lives' end.'"
[Sidenote: Purgatory to be received in a general sense,]
[Sidenote: But special interpretation as far as possible to be avoided.]
Finally, on the great vexed question of purgatory. "Forasmuch as the due
order of charity requireth, and the books of Maccabees and divers
antient doctors plainly shew, that it is a very good, charitable deed to
pray for souls departed; and forasmuch as such usage hath continued in
the Church for many years, no man ought to be grieved with the
continuance of the same. But forasmuch as the place where they be, the
name thereof, and kind of pains there, be to us uncertain by Scripture,
therefore this with all other things we remit unto Almighty God, unto
whose mercy it is meet and convenient for us to commend them, trusting
that God accepteth our prayers for them. Wherefore it is much necessary
that such abuses be clearly put away, which, under the name of
purgatory, hath been advanced; as to make men believe that through the
Bishop of Rome's pardons men might be delivered out of purgatory and all
the pains of it, or that masses said at any place or before any image
might deliver them from their pain and send them straight to
heaven."[70]
We have now before us the stormy eloquence of Pole, the iconoclasm of
Latimer, the superstitions of the complaining clergy--representing three
principles struggling one against the other, and the voice of the pilot
heard above the tempest. Each of these contained some element which the
other needed; they were to fret and chafe till the dust was beaten off,
and the grains of gold could meet and fuse.
[Sidenote: The articles pass convocation, but create dissatisfaction.]
The articles were debated in convocation, and passed because it was the
king's will. No party were pleased. The Protestants exclaimed against
the countenance to superstition; the Anglo-Catholics lamented the
visible taint of heresy, the reduced number of the sacraments, the
doubtful language upon purgatory, and the silence--dangerously
significant--on the nature of the priesthood. They were signed, however,
by all sides; and by Cromwell, now Lord Cromwell, lord privy seal, and
not vicar-general only, but appointed vicegerent of the king in all
matters ecclesiastical, they were sent round through the English
counties, to be obeyed by every man at his peril.[71]
[Sidenote: Convocation decree that the Pope has no power to call general
councils.]
The great matters being thus disposed of, the business of the session
concluded with a resolution passed on the 20th of July, respecting
general councils. The Pope, at the beginning of June, had issued notice
of a council to be assembled, if possible, at Mantua, in the following
year. The English government were contented to recognise a council
called _ad locum indifferentem_, with the consent of the great powers of
Europe. They would send no delegates to a petty Italian principality,
where the decrees would be dictated by the Pope and the Emperor. The
convocation pronounced that the Pope had gone beyond his authority: a
general council could not legally be called without the consent of all
Christian princes; to princes the right belonged of determining the time
and place of such an assembly, of appointing the judges, of fixing the
order of proceeding, and of deciding even upon the doctrines which might
lawfully be allowed and defended.[72]
This was the last act of the year; immediately after, the convocation
was prorogued. From the temper which had been displayed, it was easy to
see that trouble was impending. The form which it would assume was soon
to show itself.
Meanwhile, an event occurred of deeper importance than decrees of
councils, convocation quarrels, and moves and counter-moves on the
political chessboard; an event not to be passed by in silence, though I
can only glance at it.
The agitation caused by the queen's trial had suspended hitherto the
fate of the monasteries. On the dispersion of the clergy a commission
was appointed by Cromwell, to put in force the act of dissolution;[73]
and a series of injunctions were simultaneously issued, one of which
related to the articles of faith, another to the observance of the order
diminishing the number of holy-days; a third forbade the extolling the
special virtue of images and relics, as things which had caused much
folly and superstition; the people should learn that God would be better
pleased to see them providing for their families by honest labour, than
by idling upon pilgrimages; if they had money to spare, they might give
it in charity to the poor.
[Sidenote: Directions issued for the education of the people.]
The paternoster, the apostles' creed, and the ten commandments had been
lately published in English. Fathers of families, schoolmasters, and
heads of households were to take care that these fundamental elements of
the Christian faith should be learnt by the children and servants under
their care; and the law of the land was to be better observed, which
directed that every child should be brought up either to learning or to
some honest occupation, "lest they should fall to sloth and idleness,
and being brought after to calamity and misery, impute their ruin to
those who suffered them to be brought up idly in their youth."
[Sidenote: A Bible in English to be provided in every parish.]
An order follows, of more significance: "Every parson or proprietary of
every parish church within this realm shall, on this side of the feast
of St. Peter ad Vincula next coming,[74] provide a book of the whole
Bible, both in Latin and also in English, and lay the same in the quire,
for every man that will to read and look therein; and shall discourage
no man from reading any part of the Bible, but rather comfort, exhort,
and admonish every man to read the same, as the very word of God and the
spiritual food of man's soul; ever gently and charitably exhorting them,
that using a sober and modest behaviour in the reading and inquisition
of the true sense of the same, they do in nowise stiffly or eagerly
contend or strive one with another about the same, but refer the
declaration of those places that be in controversy to the judgment of
the learned."
[Sidenote: Translations existing before the Reformation.]
The publication of the English translation of the Bible, with the
permission for its free use among the people--the greatest, because the
purest victory so far gained by the Reformers--was at length
accomplished; a few words will explain how, and by whom. Before the
Reformation, two versions existed of the Bible in English--two
certainly, perhaps three. One was Wicliffe's; another, based on
Wicliffe's, but tinted more strongly with the peculiar opinions of the
Lollards, followed at the beginning of the fifteenth century; and there
is said to have been a third, but no copy of _this_ is known to
survive, and the history of it is vague.[75] The possession or the use
of these translations was prohibited by the Church, under pain of death.
They were extremely rare, and little read; and it was not till Luther's
great movement began in Germany, and his tracts and commentaries found
their way into England, that a practical determination was awakened
among the people, to have before them, in their own tongue, the book on
which their faith was built.
[Sidenote: Tyndal's New Testament.]
[Sidenote: Rapid sale in England.]
I have already described how William Tyndal felt his heart burn in him
to accomplish this great work for his country; how he applied for
assistance to a learned bishop; how he discovered rapidly that the
assistance which he would receive from the Church authorities would be a
speedy elevation to martyrdom; how he went across the Channel to Luther,
and thence to Antwerp; and how he there, in the year 1526, achieved and
printed the first edition of the New Testament. It was seen how copies
were carried over secretly to London, and circulated in thousands by the
Christian Brothers. The council threatened; the bishops anathematized.
They opened subscriptions to buy up the hated and dreaded volumes. They
burnt them publicly in St. Paul's. The whip, the gaol, the stake, did
their worst; and their worst was nothing. The high dignitaries of the
earth were fighting against Heaven, and met the success which ever
attends such contests. Three editions were sold before 1530; and in that
year a fresh instalment was completed. The Pentateuch was added to the
New Testament; and afterwards, by Tyndal himself, or under Tyndal's
eyes, the historical books, the Psalms and Prophets. At length the
whole canon was translated, and published in separate portions.
[Sidenote: The bishops' protest.]
[Sidenote: The king commands them to prepare a new translation.]
[Sidenote: Exertions of Cranmer.]
[Sidenote: The bishops are immoveable.]
All these were condemned with equal emphasis--all continued to spread.
The progress of the work of propagation had, in 1531, become so
considerable as to be the subject of an anxious protest to the crown
from the episcopal bench. They complained of the translations as
inaccurate--of unbecoming reflections on themselves in the prefaces and
side-notes. They required stronger powers of repression, more frequent
holocausts, a more efficient inquisitorial police. In Henry's reply they
found that the waters of their life were poisoned at the spring. The
king, too, was infected with the madness. The king would have the Bible
in English; he directed them, if the translation was unsound, to prepare
a better translation without delay. If they had been wise in their
generation they would have secured the ground when it was offered to
them, and gladly complied. But the work of Reformation in England was
not to be accomplished, in any one of its purer details, by the official
clergy; it was to be done by volunteers from the ranks, and forced upon
the Church by the secular arm. The bishops remained for two years
inactive. In 1533, the king becoming more peremptory, Cranmer carried a
resolution for a translation through convocation. The resolution,
however, would not advance into act. The next year he brought the
subject forward again; and finding his brother prelates fixed in their
neglect, he divided Tyndal's work into ten parts, sending one part to
each bishop to correct. The Bishop of London alone ventured an open
refusal; the remainder complied in words, and did nothing.[76]
[Sidenote: Miles Coverdale publishes the first complete version with the
king's sanction.]
Finally, the king's patience was exhausted. The legitimate methods
having been tried in vain, he acted on his own responsibility. Miles
Coverdale, a member of the same Cambridge circle which had given birth
to Cranmer, to Latimer, to Barnes, to the Scotch Wishart, silently went
abroad with a licence from Cromwell; with Tyndal's help he collected and
edited the scattered portions; and in 1536[77] there appeared in London,
published _cum privilegio_ and dedicated to Henry VIII., the first
complete copy of the English Bible. The separate translations, still
anomalously prohibited in detail, were exposed freely to sale in a
single volume, under the royal sanction. The canon and text-book of the
new opinions--so long dreaded, so long execrated--was thenceforth to lie
open in every church in England; and the clergy were ordered not to
permit only, but to exhort and encourage, all men to resort to it and
read.[78]
In this act was laid the foundation-stone on which the whole later
history of England, civil as well as ecclesiastical, has been reared;
the most minute incidents become interesting, connected with an event of
so mighty moment.
[Sidenote: Coverdale's preface and dedication.]
"Caiphas," said Coverdale in the dedicatory preface, "being bishop of
his year, prophesied that it was better to put Christ to death than that
all the people should perish: he meaning that Christ was a heretic and a
deceiver of the people, when in truth he was the Saviour of the world,
sent by his Father to suffer death for man's redemption.
"After the same manner the Bishop of Rome conferred on King Henry VIII.
the title of Defender of the Faith, because his Highness suffered the
bishops to burn God's Word, the root of faith, and to persecute the
lovers and ministers of the same; where in very deed the Bishop, though
he knew not what he did, prophesied that, by the righteous
administration of his Grace, the faith should be so defended that God's
Word, the mother of faith, should have free course through all
Christendom, but especially in his own realm.
"The Bishop of Rome has studied long to keep the Bible from the people,
and specially from princes, lest they should find out his tricks and his
falsehoods, lest they should turn from his false obedience to the true
obedience commanded by God; knowing well enough that, if the clear sun
of God's Word came over the heat of the day, it would drive away the
foul mist of his devilish doctrines. The Scripture was lost before the
time of that noble king Josiah, as it hath also been among us unto the
time of his Grace. Through the merciful goodness of God it is now found
again as it was in the days of that virtuous king; and praised be the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, world without end, which so
excellently hath endowed the princely heart of his Highness with such
ferventness to his honour and the wealth of his subjects, that he may be
compared worthily unto that noble king, that lantern among princes, who
commanded straitly, as his Grace doth, that the law of God should be
read and taught unto all the people.
"May it be found a general comfort to all Christian hearts--a continual
subject of thankfulness, both of old and young, unto God and to his
Grace, who, being our Moses, has brought us out of the old Ægypt, and
from the cruel hands of our spiritual Pharaoh. Not by the thousandth
part were the Jews so much bound unto King David for subduing of great
Goliah as we are to his Grace for delivering us out of our old
Babylonish captivity. For the which deliverance and victory I beseech
our only Mediator, Jesus Christ, to make such mean with us unto his
heavenly Father, that we may never be unthankful unto Him nor unto his
Grace, but increase in fear of God, in obedience to the King's Highness,
in love unfeigned to our neighbours, and in all virtue that cometh of
God, to whom, for the defending of his blessed Word, be honour and
thanks, glory and dominion, world without end."[79]
[Sidenote: The frontispiece.]
Equally remarkable, and even more emphatic in the recognition of the
share in the work borne by the king, was the frontispiece.
This was divided into four compartments.
In the first, the Almighty was seen in the clouds with outstretched
arms. Two scrolls proceeded out of his mouth, to the right, and the
left. On the former was the verse, "the word which goeth forth from me
shall not return to me empty, but shall accomplish whatsoever I will
have done." The other was addressed to Henry, who was kneeling at a
distance bareheaded, with his crown lying at his feet. The scroll said,
"I have found me a man after my own heart, who shall fulfil all my
will." Henry answered, "Thy word is a lantern unto my feet."
Immediately below, the king was seated on his throne, holding in each
hand a book, on which was written "the Word of God." One of these he was
giving to Cranmer and another bishop, who with a group of priests were
on the right of the picture, saying, "Take this and teach;" the other on
the opposite side he held to Cromwell and the lay peers, and the words
were, "I make a decree that, in all my kingdom, men shall tremble and
fear before the living God." A third scroll, falling downwards over his
feet, said alike to peer and prelate, "Judge righteous judgment. Turn
not away your ear from the prayer of the poor man." The king's face was
directed sternly towards the bishops, with a look which said, "Obey at
last, or worse will befal you."
In the third compartment, Cranmer and Cromwell were distributing the
Bible to kneeling priests and laymen; and, at the bottom, a preacher
with a benevolent beautiful face was addressing a crowd from a pulpit in
the open air. He was apparently commencing a sermon with the text, "I
exhort therefore that, first of all, supplications, prayers,
intercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all men--for kings"--and
at the word "kings" the people were shouting "Vivat Rex!--Vivat Rex!"
children who knew no Latin lisping "God save the King!" and, at the
extreme left, at a gaol window, a prisoner was joining in the cry of
delight, as if he, too, were delivered from a worse bondage.
[Sidenote: The entire translation substantially the work of Tyndal.]
This was the introduction of the English Bible--this the seeming
acknowledgment of Henry's services. Of the translation itself, though
since that time it has been many times revised and altered, we may say
that it is substantially the Bible with which we are all familiar. The
peculiar genius--if such a word may be permitted--which breathes through
it--the mingled tenderness and majesty--the Saxon simplicity--the
preternatural grandeur--unequalled, unapproached, in the attempted
improvements of modern scholars--all are here, and bear the impress of
the mind of one man--William Tyndal. Lying, while engaged in that great
office, under the shadow of death, the sword above his head and ready at
any moment to fall, he worked, under circumstances alone perhaps truly
worthy of the task which was laid upon him--his spirit, as it were
divorced from the world, moved in a purer element than common air.
[Sidenote: Tyndal's martyrdom.]
His work was done. He lived to see the Bible no longer carried by
stealth into his country, where the possession of it was a crime, but
borne in by the solemn will of the king--solemnly recognised as the word
of the Most High God. And then his occupation in this earth was gone.
His eyes saw the salvation for which he had longed, and he might depart
to his place. He was denounced to the regent of Flanders; he was enticed
by the suborned treachery of a miserable English fanatic beyond the town
under whose liberties he had been secure; and with the reward which, at
other times as well as those, has been held fitting by human justice for
the earth's great ones, he passed away in smoke and flame to his rest.