The seals were delivered to the new chancellor in November, 1529. By his

oath on entering office he was bound to exert himself to the utmost for

the suppression of heretics:[88] he was bound, however, equally to obey

the conditions under which the law allowed them to be suppressed.

Unfortunately for his reputation as a judge, he permitted the hatred of

"that kind of men," which he did not conceal that he felt,[89] to

obscure his conscience on this important feature of his duty, and tempt

him to imitate the worst iniquities of the bishops. I do not intend in

this place to relate the stories of his cruelties in his house at

Chelsea,[90] which he himself partially denied, and which at least we

may hope were exaggerated. Being obliged to confine myself to specific

instances, I choose rather those on which the evidence is not open to

question; and which prove against More, not the zealous execution of a

cruel law, for which we may not fairly hold him responsible, but a

disregard, in the highest degree censurable, of his obligations as a

judge.

The acts under which heretics were liable to punishment, were the 15th

of the 2d of Henry IV., and the 1st of the 2d of Henry V.

[Sidenote: In cases of heresy, the legal period of imprisonment previous

to trial was three months.]

By the act of Henry IV., the bishops were bound to bring offenders to

trial in open court, within three months of their arrest, if there were

no lawful impediment. If conviction followed, they might imprison at

their discretion. Except under these conditions, they were not at

liberty to imprison.

[Sidenote: In cases of indictments before the chancellor, the accused

person was to be delivered to the bishops within ten days.]

By the act of Henry V., a heretic, if he was first indicted before a

secular judge, was to be delivered within ten days (or, if possible, a

shorter period) to the bishop, "to be acquit or convict" by a jury in

the spiritual court, and to be dealt with accordingly.[91]

[Sidenote: More's carelessness in observing these provisions.]

The secular judge might detain a heretic for ten days before delivering

him to the bishop. The bishop might detain him for three months before

his trial. Neither the secular judge nor the bishop had power to inflict

indefinite imprisonment at will while the trial was delayed; nor, if on

the trial the bishop failed in securing a conviction, was he at liberty

to detain the accused person any longer on the same charge, because the

result was not satisfactory to himself. These provisions were not

preposterously lenient. Sir Thomas More should have found no difficulty

in observing them himself, and in securing the observance of them by the

bishops, at least in cases where he was himself responsible for the

first committal. It is to be feared that he forgot that he was a judge

in his eagerness to be a partisan, and permitted no punctilious legal

scruples to interfere with the more important object of ensuring

punishment to heretics.

The first case which I shall mention is one in which the Bishop of

London was principally guilty; not, however, without More's countenance,

and, if Foxe is to be believed, his efficient support.

[Sidenote: Case of Thomas Philips.]

In December, 1529, the month succeeding his appointment as chancellor,

More, at the instance of the Bishop of London,[92] arrested a citizen of

London, Thomas Philips by name, on a charge of heresy.

The prisoner was surrendered in due form to his diocesan, and was

brought to trial on the 4th of February; a series of articles being

alleged against him by Foxford, the bishop's vicar-general. The articles

were of the usual kind. The prisoner was accused of having used

unorthodox expressions on transubstantiation, on purgatory, pilgrimages,

and confession. It does not appear whether any witnesses were produced.

The vicar-general brought his accusations on the ground of general

rumour, and failed to maintain them. Whether there were witnesses or

not, neither the particular offences, nor even the fact of the general

rumour, could be proved to the satisfaction of the jury. Philips himself

encountered each separate charge with a specific denial, declaring that

he neither was, nor ever had been, other than orthodox; and the result

of the trial was, that no conviction could be obtained. The prisoner

"was found so clear from all manner of infamous slanders and suspicions,

that all the people before the said bishop, shouting in judgment as with

one voice, openly witnessed his good name and fame, to the great reproof

and shame of the said bishop, if he had not been ashamed to be

ashamed."[93] The case had broken down; the proceedings were over, and

by law the accused person was free. But the law, except when it was on

their own side, was of little importance to the church authorities. As

they had failed to prove Philips guilty of heresy, they called upon him

to confess his guilt by abjuring it; "as if," he says, "there were no

difference between a nocent and an innocent, between a guilty and a not

guilty."[94]

He refused resolutely, and was remanded to prison, in open violation of

the law. The bishop, in conjunction with Sir Thomas More,[95] sent for

him from time to time, submitting him to private examinations, which

again were illegal; and urged the required confession, in order, as

Philips says, "to save the bishop's credit."

[Sidenote: He is imprisoned unconvicted for three years.]

The further they advanced, the more difficult it was to recede; and the

bishop at length, irritated at his failure, concluded the process with

an arbitrary sentence of excommunication. From this sentence, whether

just or unjust, there was then no appeal, except to the pope. The

wretched man, in virtue of it, was no longer under the protection of the

law, and was committed to the Tower, where he languished for three

years, protesting, but protesting fruitlessly, against the tyranny which

had crushed him, and clamouring for justice in the deaf ears of pedants

who knew not what justice meant.

[Sidenote: He appeals at length to the House of Commons, and recovers

his liberty.]

If this had occurred at the beginning of the century, the prisoner would

have been left to die, as countless multitudes had already died,

unheard, uncared for, unthought of; the victim not of deliberate

cruelty, but of that frightfullest portent, folly armed with power.

Happily the years of his imprisonment had been years of swift

revolution. The House of Commons had become a tribunal where oppression

would not any longer cry wholly unheard; Philips appealed to it for

protection, and recovered his liberty.[96]

[Sidenote: The Bishop of London responsible in the first degree; but

More was severely censurable.]

The weight of guilt in this instance presses essentially on Stokesley;

yet a portion of the blame must be borne also by the chancellor, who

first placed Philips in Stokesley's hands; who took part in the illegal

private examinations, and who could not have been ignorant of the

prisoner's ultimate fate. If, however, it be thought unjust to charge a

good man's memory with an offence in which his part was only secondary,

the following iniquity was wholly and exclusively his own. I relate the

story without comment in the address of the injured person to More's

successor.[97]

[Sidenote: Case of John Field.]

"_To the Right Hon. the Lord Chancellor of England

(Sir T. Audeley) and other of the King's Council._

[Sidenote: Illegally imprisoned by More.]

"In most humble wise showeth unto your goodness your poor bedeman John

Field, how that the next morrow upon twelfth day,[98] in the

twenty-first year of our sovereign lord the King's Highness, Sir Thomas

More, Knight, then being Lord Chancellor of England, did send certain of

his servants, and caused your said bedeman, with certain others, to be

brought to his place at Chelsea, and there kept him (after what manner

and fashion it were now long to tell), by the space of eighteen

days;[99] and then set him at liberty, binding him to appear before him

again the eighth day following in the Star Chamber, which was Candlemas

eve; at which day your said bedeman appeared, and was then sent to the

Fleet, where he continued until Palm Sunday two years after, [in

violation of both the statutes,] kept so close the first quarter that

his keeper only might visit him; and always after closed up with those

that were handled most straitly; often searched, sometimes even at

midnight; besides snares and traps laid to take him in. Betwixt

Michaelmas and Allhalloween tide next after his coming to prison there

was taken from your bedeman a Greek vocabulary, price five shillings;

Saint Cyprian's works, with a book of the same Sir Thomas More's making,

named the _Supplication of Souls_. For what cause it was done he

committeth to the judgment of God, that seeth the souls of all persons.

The said Palm Sunday, which was also our Lady's day, towards night there

came two officers of the Fleet, named George Porter and John Butler, and

took your bedeman into a ward alone, and there, after long searching,

found his purse hanging at his girdle; which they took, and shook out

the money to the sum of ten shillings, which was sent him to buy such

necessaries as he lacked, and delivered him again his purse, well and

truly keeping the money to themselves, as they said for their fees; and

forthwith carried him from the Fleet (where he lost such poor bedding as

he then had, and could never since get it), and delivered him to the

Marshalsea, under our gracious sovereign's commandment and Sir Thomas

More's. When the Sunday before the Rogation week following, your bedeman

fell sick; and the Whitsun Monday was carried out on four men's backs,

and delivered to his friends to be recovered if it so pleased God. At

which time the keeper took for your bedeman's fees other ten shillings,

when four shillings should have sufficed if he had been delivered in

good health.

"Within three weeks it pleased God to set your bedeman on his feet, so

that he might walk abroad. Whereof when Sir Thomas More heard (who went

out of his chancellorship about the time your bedeman was carried out of

prison), although he had neither word nor deed which he could ever truly

lay to your bedeman's charge, yet made he such means by the Bishops of

Winchester and London, as your bedeman heard say, to the Hon. Lord

Thomas Duke of Norfolk, that he gave new commandment to the keeper of

the Marshalsea to attach again your said bedeman; which thing was

speedily done the Sunday three weeks after his deliverance. And so he

continued in prison again until Saint Lawrence tide following; at which

time money was given to the keeper, and some things he took which were

not given, and then was your bedeman re-delivered through the king's

goodness, under sureties bound in a certain sum, that he should appear

the first day of the next term following, and then day by day until his

dismission. And so hath your bedeman been at liberty now twelve months

waiting daily from term to term, and nothing laid to his charge as

before.

"Wherefore, the premises tenderly considered, and also your said

bedeman's great poverty, he most humbly beseecheth your goodness that he

may now be clearly discharged; and if books, money, or other things seem

to be taken or kept from him otherwise than justice would, eftsoons he

beseecheth you that ye will command it to be restored.

"As for his long imprisonment, with other griefs thereto appertaining,

he looketh not to have recompense of man; but committeth his whole cause

to God, to whom your bedeman shall daily pray, according as he is bound,

that ye may so order and govern the realm that it may be to the honour

of God and your heavenly and everlasting reward."

I do not find the result of this petition, but as it appeared that Henry

had interested himself in the story, it is likely to have been

successful. We can form but an imperfect judgment on the merits of the

case, for we have only the sufferer's _ex parte_ complaint, and More

might probably have been able to make some counter-statement. But the

illegal imprisonment cannot be explained away, and cannot be palliated;

and when a judge permits himself to commit an act of arbitrary tyranny,

we argue from the known to the unknown, and refuse reasonably to give

him credit for equity where he was so little careful of law.

[Sidenote: Contrast between Wolsey and More in the treatment of

heretics.]

[Sidenote: The Smithfield fires recommence.]

[Sidenote: Troubles of Bilney.]

Yet a few years of misery in a prison was but an insignificant

misfortune when compared with the fate under which so many other poor

men were at this time overwhelmed. Under Wolsey's chancellorship the

stake had been comparatively idle; he possessed a remarkable power of

making recantation easy; and there is, I believe, no instance in which

an accused heretic was brought under his immediate cognizance, where he

failed to arrange some terms by which submission was made possible. With

Wolsey heresy was an error--with More it was a crime. Soon after the

seals changed hands the Smithfield fires recommenced; and, the

chancellor acting in concert with them, the bishops resolved to

obliterate, in these edifying spectacles, the recollection of their

general infirmities. The crime of the offenders varied,--sometimes it

was a denial of the corporal presence, more often it was a reflection

too loud to be endured on the character and habits of the clergy; but

whatever it was, the alternative lay only between abjuration humiliating

as ingenuity could make it, or a dreadful death. The hearts of many

failed them in the trial, and of all the confessors those perhaps do not

deserve the least compassion whose weakness betrayed them, who sank and

died broken-hearted. Of these silent sufferers history knows nothing. A

few, unable to endure the misery of having, as they supposed, denied

their Saviour, returned to the danger from which they had fled, and

washed out their fall in martyrdom. Latimer has told us the story of his

friend Bilney--little Bilney, or Saint Bilney,[100] as he calls him, his

companion at Cambridge, to whom he owed his own conversion. Bilney,

after escaping through Wolsey's hands in 1527, was again cited in 1529

before the Bishop of London. Three times he refused to recant. He was

offered a fourth and last chance. The temptation was too strong, and he

fell. For two years he was hopelessly miserable; at length his braver

nature prevailed. There was no pardon for a relapsed heretic, and if he

was again in the bishop's hands he knew well the fate which awaited him.

[Sidenote: He "goes up to Jerusalem."]

He told his friends, in language touchingly significant, that "he would

go up to Jerusalem"; and began to preach in the fields. The journey

which he had undertaken was not to be a long one. He was heard to say in

a sermon, that of his personal knowledge certain things which had been

offered in pilgrimage had been given to abandoned women. The priests, he

affirmed, "take away the offerings, and hang them about their women's

necks; and after that they take them off the women, if they please them

not, and hang them again upon the images."[101] This was Bilney's

heresy, or formed the ground of his arrest; he was orthodox on the mass,

and also on the power of the keys; but the secrets of the sacred order

were not to be betrayed with impunity. He was seized, and hurried before

the Bishop of Norwich; and being found heterodox on the papacy and the

mediation of the saints, by the Bishop of Norwich he was sent to the

stake.

[Sidenote: James Bainham,]

Another instance of recovered courage, and of martyrdom consequent upon

it, is that of James Bainham, a barrister of the Middle Temple. This

story is noticeable from a very curious circumstance connected with it.

[Sidenote: The latitudinarian martyr.]

[Sidenote: On his first trial he recants.]

Bainham had challenged suspicion by marrying the widow of Simon Fish,

the author of the famous _Beggars' Petition_, who had died in 1528; and,

soon after his marriage, was challenged to give an account of his

faith. He was charged with denying transubstantiation, with questioning

the value of the confessional, and the power of the keys; and the

absence of authoritative Protestant dogma had left his mind free to

expand to a yet larger belief. He had ventured to assert, that "if a

Turk, a Jew, or a Saracen do trust in God and keep his law, he is a good

Christian man,"[102]--a conception of Christianity, a conception of

Protestantism, which we but feebly dare to whisper even at the present

day. The proceedings against him commenced with a demand that he should

give up his books, and also the names of other barristers with whom he

was suspected to have held intercourse. He refused; and in consequence

his wife was imprisoned, and he himself was racked in the Tower by order

of Sir Thomas More. Enfeebled by suffering, he was then brought before

Stokesley, and terrified by the cold merciless eyes of his judge, he

gave way, not about his friends, but about himself: he abjured, and was

dismissed heartbroken. This was on the seventeenth of February. He was

only able to endure his wretchedness for a month. At the end of it, he

appeared at a secret meeting of the Christian Brothers, in "a warehouse

in Bow Lane," where he asked forgiveness of God and all the world for

what he had done; and then went out to take again upon his shoulders the

heavy burden of the cross.

[Sidenote: He recovers his courage,]

The following Sunday, at the church of St. Augustine, he rose in his

seat with the fatal English Testament in his hand, and "declared openly,

before all the people, with weeping tears, that he had denied God,"

praying them all to forgive him, and beware of his weakness; "for if I

should not return to the truth," he said, "this Word of God would damn

me, body and soul, at the day of judgment." And then he prayed

"everybody rather to die than to do as he did, for he would not feel

such a hell again as he did feel for all the world's good."[103]

[Sidenote: And is arrested again.]

Of course but one event was to be looked for: he knew it, and himself

wrote to the bishop, telling him what he had done. No mercy was

possible: he looked for none, and he found none.

[Sidenote: The mercy of the church authorities.]

Yet perhaps he found what the wise authorities thought to be some act of

mercy. They could not grant him pardon in this world upon any terms; but

they would not kill him till they had made an effort for his soul. He

was taken to the Bishop of London's coal-cellar at Fulham, the favourite

episcopal penance-chamber, where he was ironed and put in the stocks;

and there was left for many days, in the chill March weather, to bethink

himself. This failing to work conviction, he was carried to Sir Thomas

More's house at Chelsea, where for two nights he was chained to a post

and whipped; thence, again, he was taken back to Fulham for another week

of torture; and finally to the Tower, for a further fortnight, again

with ineffectual whippings.

[Sidenote: He is burnt April 20, 1532.]

The demands of charity were thus satisfied. The pious bishop and the

learned chancellor had exhausted their means of conversion; they had

discharged their consciences; and the law was allowed to take its

course. The prisoner was brought to trial on the 20th of April, as a

relapsed heretic. Sentence followed; and on the last of the month the

drama closed in the usual manner at Smithfield. Before the fire was

lighted Bainham made a farewell address to the people, laying his death

expressly to More, whom he called his accuser and his judge.[104]

[Sidenote: The feelings with which these spectacles were witnessed by

the people.]

It is unfortunately impossible to learn the feelings with which these

dreadful scenes were witnessed by the people. There are stories which

show that, in some instances, familiarity had produced the usual effect;

that the martyrdom of saints was at times of no more moment to an

English crowd than the execution of ordinary felons,--that it was a mere

spectacle to the idle, the hardened, and the curious. On the other hand,

it is certain that the behaviour of the sufferers was the argument which

at last converted the nation; and an effect which in the end was so

powerful with the multitude must have been visible long before in the

braver and better natures. The increasing number of prosecutions in

London shows, also, that the leaven was spreading. There were five

executions in Smithfield between 1529 and 1533, besides those in the

provinces. The prisons were crowded with offenders who had abjured and

were undergoing sentence; and the list of those who were "troubled" in

various ways is so extensive, as to leave no doubt of the sympathy

which, in London at least, must have been felt by many, very many, of

the spectators of the martyrs' deaths. We are left, in this important

point, mainly to conjecture; and if we were better furnished with

evidence, the language of ordinary narrative would fail to convey any

real notion of perplexed and various emotions. We have glimpses,

however, into the inner world of men, here and there of strange

interest; and we must regret that they are so few.

[Sidenote: Suicide of a boy at Cambridge.]

A poor boy at Cambridge, John Randall, of Christ's College, a relation

of Foxe the martyrologist, destroyed himself in these years in religious

desperation; he was found in his study hanging by his girdle, before an

open Bible, with his dead arm and finger stretched pitifully towards a

passage on predestination.[105]

[Sidenote: Pavier, the town clerk of London, also destroys himself,

under strange circumstances.]

A story even more remarkable is connected with Bainham's execution.

Among the lay officials present at the stake, was "one Pavier," town

clerk of London. This Pavier was a Catholic fanatic, and as the flames

were about to be kindled he burst out into violent and abusive language.

The fire blazed up, and the dying sufferer, as the red flickering

tongues licked the flesh from off his bones, turned to him and said,

"May God forgive thee, and shew more mercy than thou, angry reviler,

shewest to me." The scene was soon over; the town clerk went home. A

week after, one morning when his wife had gone to mass, he sent all his

servants out of his house on one pretext or another, a single girl only

being left, and he withdrew to a garret at the top of the house, which

he used as an oratory. A large crucifix was on the wall, and the girl

having some question to ask, went to the room, and found him standing

before it "bitterly weeping." He told her to take his sword, which was

rusty, and clean it. She went away and left him; when she returned, a

little time after, he was hanging from a beam, dead. He was a singular

person. Edward Hall, the historian, knew him, and had heard him say,

that "if the king put forth the New Testament in English, he would not

live to bear it."[106] And yet he could not bear to see a heretic die.

What was it? Had the meaning of that awful figure hanging on the

torturing cross suddenly revealed itself? Had some inner voice asked him

whether, in the prayer for his persecutors with which Christ had parted

out of life, there might be some affinity with words which had lately

sounded in his own ears? God, into whose hands he threw himself,

self-condemned in his wretchedness, only knows the agony of that hour.

Let the secret rest where it lies, and let us be thankful for ourselves

that we live in a changed world.

[Sidenote: The two orders of martyrs.]

Thus, however, the struggle went forward; a forlorn hope of saints led

the way up the breach, and paved with their bodies a broad road into the

new era; and the nation the meanwhile was unconsciously waiting till the

works of the enemy were won, and they could walk safely in and take

possession. While men like Bilney and Bainham were teaching with words

and writings, there were stout English hearts labouring also on the

practical side of the same conflict, instilling the same lessons, and

meeting for themselves the same consequences. Speculative superstition

was to be met with speculative denial. Practical idolatry required a

rougher method of disenchantment.

[Sidenote: The worship of relics, in its origin and in its abuse.]

[Sidenote: Bishop Shaxton's inventory.]

[Sidenote: The wonder-working roods.]

[Sidenote: The rood of Boxley.]

[Sidenote: The rood of Dovercourt.]

Every monastery, every parish church, had in those days its special

relics, its special images, its special something, to attract the

interest of the people. The reverence for the remains of noble and pious

men, the dresses which they had worn, or the bodies in which their

spirits had lived, was in itself a natural and pious emotion; but it had

been petrified into a dogma; and like every other imaginative feeling

which is submitted to that bad process, it had become a falsehood, a

mere superstition, a substitute for piety, not a stimulus to it, and a

perpetual occasion of fraud. The people brought offerings to the shrines

where it was supposed that the relics were of greatest potency. The

clergy, to secure the offerings, invented the relics, and invented the

stories of the wonders which had been worked by them. The greatest

exposure of these things took place at the visitation of the religious

houses. In the meantime, Bishop Shaxton's unsavoury inventory of what

passed under the name of relics in the diocese of Salisbury, will

furnish an adequate notion of these objects of popular veneration. There

"be set forth and commended unto the ignorant people," he said, "as I

myself of certain which be already come to my hands, have perfect

knowledge, stinking boots, mucky combes, ragged rochettes, rotten

girdles, pyl'd purses, great bullocks' horns, locks of hair, and filthy

rags, gobbetts of wood, under the name of parcels of the holy cross, and

such pelfry beyond estimation."[107] Besides matters of this kind, there

were images of the Virgin or of the Saints; above all, roods or

crucifixes, of especial potency, the virtues of which had begun to grow

uncertain, however, to sceptical Protestants; and from doubt to denial,

and from denial to passionate hatred, there were but a few brief steps.

The most famous of the roods was that of Boxley in Kent, which used to

smile and bow, or frown and shake its head, as its worshippers were

generous or closehanded. The fortunes and misfortunes of this image I

shall by and bye have to relate. There was another, however, at

Dovercourt, in Suffolk, of scarcely inferior fame. This image was of

such power that the door of the church in which it stood was open at all

hours to all comers, and no human hand could close it. Dovercourt

therefore became a place of great and lucrative pilgrimage, much

resorted to by the neighbours on all occasions of difficulty.

[Sidenote: Its powers are submitted to trial,]

Now it happened that within the circuit of a few miles there lived four

young men, to whom the virtues of the rood had become greatly

questionable. If it could work miracles, it must be capable, so they

thought, of protecting its own substance; and they agreed to apply a

practical test which would determine the extent of its abilities.

Accordingly (about the time of Bainham's first imprisonment), Robert

King of Dedham, Robert Debenham of Eastbergholt, Nicholas Marsh of

Dedham, and Robert Gardiner of Dedham, "their consciences being burdened

to see the honour of Almighty God so blasphemed by such an idol,"

started off "on a wondrous goodly night" in February, with hard frost

and a clear full moon, ten miles across the wolds, to the church.

[Sidenote: And are found unequal to the emergency.]

[Sidenote: The rood is burnt.]

The door was open as the legend declared; but nothing daunted, they

entered bravely, and lifting down the "idol" from its shrine, with its

coat and shoes, and the store of tapers which were kept for the

services, they carried it on their shoulders for a quarter of a mile

from the place where it had stood, "without any resistance of the said

idol." There setting it on the ground, they struck a light, fastened the

tapers to the body, and with the help of them, sacrilegiously burnt the

image down to a heap of ashes; the old dry wood "blazing so brimly,"

that it lighted them a full mile of their way home.[108]

[Sidenote: Execution of three of the perpetrators.]

For this night's performance, which, if the devil is the father of lies,

was a stroke of honest work against him and his family, the world

rewarded these men after the usual fashion. One of them, Robert

Gardiner, escaped the search which was made, and disappeared till better

times; the remaining three were swinging in chains six months later on

the scene of their exploit. Their fate was perhaps inevitable. Men who

dare to be the first in great movements are ever self-immolated victims.

But I suppose that it was better for them to be bleaching on their

gibbets, than crawling at the feet of a wooden rood, and believing it to

be God.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: The Protestant Paladins.]

[Sidenote: The two greatest men on the side of the Reformation.]

[Sidenote: The approaching revulsion, and the use which was made of it.]

These were the first Paladins of the Reformation, the knights who slew

the dragons and the enchanters, and made the earth habitable for common

flesh and blood. They were rarely, as we have said, men of great

ability, still more rarely men of "wealth and station"; but men rather

of clear senses and honest hearts. Tyndal was a remarkable person, and

so Clark and Frith promised to become; but the two last were cut off

before they had found scope to show themselves; and Tyndal remaining

abroad, lay outside the battle which was being fought in England, doing

noble work, indeed, and ending as the rest ended, with earning a

martyr's crown; but taking no part in the actual struggle except with

his pen. As yet but two men of the highest order of power were on the

side of Protestantism--Latimer and Cromwell. Of them we have already

said something; but the time was now fast coming when they were to step

forward, pressed by circumstances which could no longer dispense with

them, into scenes of far wider activity; and the present seems a fitting

occasion to give some closer account of their history. When the breach

with the pope was made irreparable, and the papal party at home had

assumed an attitude of suspended insurrection, the fortunes of the

Protestants entered into a new phase. The persecution ceased; and those

who but lately were carrying fagots in the streets, or hiding for their

lives, passed at once by a sudden alternation into the sunshine of

political favour. The summer was but a brief one, followed soon by

returning winter; but Cromwell and Latimer had together caught the

moment as it went by; and before it was over, a work had been done in

England which, when it was accomplished once, was accomplished for ever.

The conservative party recovered their power, and abused it as before;

but the chains of the nation were broken, and no craft of kings or

priests or statesmen could weld the magic links again.

It is a pity that of two persons to whom England owes so deep a debt, we

can piece together such scanty biographies. I must attempt, however, to

give some outline of the little which is known.

[Sidenote: The family of Hugh Latimer. His father a Leicestershire

yeoman.]

The father of Latimer was a solid English yeoman, of Thurcaston, in

Leicestershire. "He had no lands of his own," but he rented a farm "of

four pounds by the year," on which "he tilled so much as kept half a

dozen men;" "he had walk for a hundred sheep, and meadow ground for

thirty cows."[109] The world prospered with him; he was able to save

money for his son's education and his daughters' portions; but he was

free-handed and hospitable; he kept open house for his poor neighbours;

and he was a good citizen, too, for "he did find the king a harness with

himself and his horse," ready to do battle for his country, if occasion

called. His family were brought up "in godliness and the fear of the

Lord;" and in all points the old Latimer seems to have been a worthy,

sound, upright man, of the true English mettle.

[Sidenote: The Reformer born about 1490,]

[Sidenote: And brought up in the farmhouse as a brave English boy.]

[Sidenote: He goes to Cambridge.]

There were several children.[110] The Reformer was born about 1490, some

five years after the usurper Richard had been killed at Bosworth.

Bosworth being no great distance from Thurcaston, Latimer the father is

likely to have been present in the battle, on one side or the

other,--the right side in those times it was no easy matter to

choose,--but he became a good servant of the new government,--and the

little Hugh, when a boy of seven years old, helped to buckle[111] on his

armour for him, "when he went to Blackheath field."[112] Being a soldier

himself, the old gentleman was careful to give his sons, whatever else

he gave them, a sound soldier's training. "He was diligent," says

Latimer, "to teach me to shoot with the bow: he taught me how to draw,

how to lay my body in the bow--not to draw with strength of arm, as

other nations do, but with the strength of the body. I had my bows

bought me according to my age and strength; as I increased in these, my

bows were made bigger and bigger."[113] Under this education, and in the

wholesome atmosphere of the farmhouse, the boy prospered well; and by

and bye, showing signs of promise, he was sent to school. When he was

fourteen, the promises so far having been fulfilled, his father

transferred him to Cambridge.[114]

[Sidenote: Is elected fellow of Clare Hall, and becomes a divinity

student.]

[Sidenote: Converted from "the shadow of death" by Bilney.]

[Sidenote: Sources of Latimer's knowledge, as evidenced in his sermons.]

He was soon known at the university as a sober, hard-working student. At

nineteen, he was elected fellow of Clare Hall; at twenty, he took his

degree, and became a student in divinity, when he accepted quietly, like

a sensible man, the doctrines which he had been brought up to believe.

At the time when Henry VIII. was writing against Luther, Latimer was

fleshing his maiden sword in an attack upon Melancthon;[115] and he

remained, he said, till he was thirty, "in darkness and the shadow of

death." About this time he became acquainted with Bilney, whom he calls

"the instrument whereby God called him to knowledge." In Bilney,

doubtless, he found a sound instructor; but a careful reader of his

sermons will see traces of a teaching for which he was indebted to no

human master. His deepest knowledge was that which stole upon him

unconsciously through the experience of life and the world. His words

are like the clear impression of a seal; the account and the result of

observations, taken first hand, on the condition of the English men and

women of his time, in all ranks and classes, from the palace to the

prison. He shows large acquaintance with books; with the Bible, most of

all; with patristic divinity and school divinity; and history, sacred

and profane: but if this had been all, he would not have been the

Latimer of the Reformation, and the Church of England would not,

perhaps, have been here to-day. Like the physician, to whom a year of

practical experience in a hospital teaches more than a life of closet

study, Latimer learnt the mental disorders of his age in the age itself;

and the secret of that art no other man, however good, however wise,

could have taught him. He was not an echo, but a voice; and he drew his

thoughts fresh from the fountain--from the facts of the era in which God

had placed him.

[Sidenote: His early reputation as a preacher at Cambridge.]

[Sidenote: Personal character of his addresses.]

[Sidenote: He offends the Bishop of Ely.]

[Sidenote: Wolsey's judgment on the bishop's complaint.]

He became early famous as a preacher at Cambridge, from the first, "a

seditious fellow," as a noble lord called him in later life, highly

troublesome to unjust persons in authority. "None, except the

stiff-necked and uncircumcised, ever went away from his preaching, it

was said, without being affected with high detestation of sin, and moved

to all godliness and virtue."[116] And, in his audacious simplicity, he

addressed himself always to his individual hearers, giving his words a

personal application, and often addressing men by name. This habit

brought him first into difficulty in 1525. He was preaching before the

university, when the Bishop of Ely came into the church, being curious

to hear him. He paused till the bishop was seated; and when he

recommenced, he changed his subject, and drew an ideal picture of a

prelate as a prelate ought to be; the features of which, though he did

not say so, were strikingly unlike those of his auditor. The bishop

complained to Wolsey, who sent for Latimer, and inquired what he had

said. Latimer repeated the substance of his sermon; and other

conversation then followed, which showed Wolsey very clearly the nature

of the person with whom he was speaking. No eye saw more rapidly than

the cardinal's the difference between a true man and an impostor; and he

replied to the Bishop of Ely's accusations by granting the offender a

licence to preach in any church in England. "If the Bishop of Ely cannot

abide such doctrine as you have here repeated," he said, "you shall

preach it to his beard, let him say what he will."[117]

[Sidenote: Practical character of Latimer's mind, which protected him

from speculative difficulties.]

Thus fortified, Latimer pursued his way, careless of the university

authorities, and probably defiant of them. He was still orthodox in

points of theoretic belief. His mind was practical rather than

speculative, and he was slow in arriving at conclusions which had no

immediate bearing upon action. No charge could be fastened upon him,

definitely criminal; and he was too strong to be crushed by that

compendious tyranny which treated as an act of heresy the exposure of

imposture or delinquency.

[Sidenote: On Wolsey's fall, he is appointed royal chaplain.]

[Sidenote: Latimer addresses Henry in behalf of the Protestants.]

On Wolsey's fall, however, he would have certainly been silenced: if he

had fallen into the hands of Sir Thomas More, he would have perhaps

been prematurely sacrificed. But, fortunately, he found a fresh

protector in the king. Henry heard of him, sent for him, and, with

instinctive recognition of his character, appointed him one of the royal

chaplains. He now left Cambridge and removed to Windsor, but only to

treat his royal patron as freely as he had treated the Cambridge

doctors,--not with any absence of respect, for he was most respectful,

but with that highest respect which dares to speak unwelcome truth where

the truth seems to be forgotten. He was made chaplain in 1530--during

the new persecution, for which Henry was responsible by a more than

tacit acquiescence. Latimer, with no authority but his own conscience,

and the strong certainty that he was on God's side, threw himself

between the spoilers and their prey, and wrote to the king, protesting

against the injustice which was crushing the truest men in his

dominions. The letter is too long to insert; the close of it may show

how a poor priest could dare to address the imperious Henry VIII.:

"I pray to God that your Grace may take heed of the worldly wisdom which

is foolishness before God; that you may do that [which] God commandeth,

and not that [which] seemeth good in your own sight, without the word of

God; that your Grace may be found acceptable in his sight, and one of

the members of his church; and according to the office that he hath

called your Grace unto, you may be found a faithful minister of his

gifts, and not a defender of his faith: for he will not have it defended

by man or man's power, but by his word only, by the which he hath

evermore defended it, and that by a way far above man's power or

reason.

"Wherefore, gracious king, remember yourself; have pity upon your soul;

and think that the day is even at hand when you shall give account for

your office, and of the blood that hath been shed by your sword. In

which day, that your Grace may stand steadfastly, and not be ashamed,

but be clear and ready in your reckoning, and have (as they say), your

_quietus est_ sealed with the blood of our Saviour Christ, which only

serveth at that day, is my daily prayer to Him that suffered death for

our sins, which also prayeth to his Father for grace for us continually;

to whom be all honour and praise for ever. Amen. The Spirit of God

preserve your Grace."[118]

[Sidenote: His intercession was ineffectual,]

[Sidenote: But earned the increased regard of the king.]

These words, which conclude an address of almost unexampled grandeur,

are unfortunately of no interest to us, except as illustrating the

character of the priest who wrote them, and the king to whom they were

written. The hand of the persecutor was not stayed. The rack and the

lash and the stake continued to claim their victims. So far it was

labour in vain. But the letter remains, to speak for ever for the

courage of Latimer; and to speak something, too, for a prince that could

respect the nobleness of the poor yeoman's son, who dared in such a

cause to write to him as a man to a man. To have written at all in such

a strain was as brave a step as was ever deliberately ventured. Like

most brave acts, it did not go unrewarded; for Henry remained ever

after, however widely divided from him in opinion, his unshaken friend.

[Sidenote: He retires from the court to West Kingston, but preaches

widely about the country.]

In 1531, the king gave him the living of West Kingston, in Wiltshire,

where for a time he now retired. Yet it was but a partial rest. He had

a special licence as a preacher from Cambridge, which continued to him

(with the king's express sanction)[119] the powers which he had received

from Wolsey. He might preach in any diocese to which he was invited; and

the repose of a country parish could not be long allowed in such stormy

times to Latimer. He had bad health, being troubled with headache,

pleurisy, colic, stone; his bodily constitution meeting feebly the

demands which he was forced to make upon it.[120] But he struggled on,

travelling up and down to London, to Kent, to Bristol, wherever

opportunity called him; marked for destruction by the bishops, if he was

betrayed into an imprudent word, and himself living in constant

expectation of death.[121]

[Sidenote: He is cited before Stokesley,]

[Sidenote: And expects death.]

At length the Bishop of London believed that Latimer was in his power.

He had preached at St. Abb's, in the city, "at the request of a company

of merchants,"[122] in the beginning of the winter of 1531; and soon

after his return to his living, he was informed that he was to be cited

before Stokesley. His friends in the neighbourhood wrote to him,

evidently in great alarm, and more anxious that he might clear himself

than expecting that he would be able to do so;[123] he himself, indeed,

had almost made up his mind that the end was coming.[124]

[Sidenote: January 10.]

[Sidenote: Method of prosecution in cases of suspected heresy.]

[Sidenote: The charge against Latimer submitted to convocation.]

[Sidenote: The efforts for his conviction baffled by his skill in

reply.]

The citation was delayed for a few weeks. It was issued at last, on the

10th of January, 1531-2,[125] and was served by Sir Walter Hungerford,

of Farley.[126] The offences with which he was charged were certain

"excesses and irregularities" not specially defined; and the practice of

the bishops in such cases was not to confine the prosecution to the acts

committed, but to draw up a series of articles, on which it was presumed

that the orthodoxy of the accused person was open to suspicion, and to

question him separately upon each. Latimer was first examined by

Stokesley; subsequently at various times by the bishops collectively;

and finally, when certain formulas had been submitted to him, which he

refused to sign, his case was transferred to convocation. The

convocation, as we know, were then in difficulty with their premunire;

they had consoled themselves in their sorrow with burning the body of

Tracy; and they would gladly have taken further comfort by burning

Latimer.[127] He was submitted to the closest cross-questionings, in

the hope that he would commit himself. They felt that he was the most

dangerous person to them in the kingdom, and they laboured with unusual

patience to ensure his conviction.[128] With a common person they would

have rapidly succeeded. But Latimer was in no haste to be a martyr; he

would be martyred patiently when the time was come for martyrdom; but he

felt that no one ought "to consent to die," as long as he could honestly

live;[129] and he baffled the episcopal inquisitors with their own

weapons. He has left a most curious account of one of his interviews

with them.

[Sidenote: Latimer before the bishops.]

"I was once in examination," he says,[130] "before five or six bishops,

where I had much turmoiling. Every week, thrice, I came to examination,

and many snares and traps were laid to get something. Now, God knoweth,

I was ignorant of the law; but that God gave me answer and wisdom what I

should speak. It was God indeed, for else I had never escaped them. At

the last, I was brought forth to be examined into a chamber hanged with

arras, where I was before wont to be examined, but now, at this time,

the chamber was somewhat altered: for whereas before there was wont ever

to be a fire in the chimney,[131] now the fire was taken away, and an

arras hanging hanged over the chimney; and the table stood near the

chimney's end, so that I stood between the table and the chimney's end.

There was among these bishops that examined me one with whom I had been

very familiar, and took him for my great friend, an aged man, and he

sate next the table end. Then, among all other questions, he put forth

one, a very subtle and crafty one, and such one indeed as I could not

think so great danger in. And when I would make answer, 'I pray you,

Master Latimer,' said he, 'speak out; I am very thick of hearing, and

here be many that sit far off.' I marvelled at this, that I was bidden

to speak out, and began to misdeem, and gave an ear to the chimney; and,

sir, there I heard a pen walking in the chimney, behind the cloth. They

had appointed one there to write all mine answers; for they made sure

work that I should not start from them: there was no starting from them:

God was my good Lord, and gave me answer; I could never else have

escaped it. The question was this: 'Master Latimer, do you not think, on

your conscience, that you have been suspected of heresy?'--a subtle

question--a very subtle question. There was no holding of peace would

serve. To hold my peace had been to grant myself faulty. To answer was

every way full of danger. But God, which hath always given me answer,

helped me, or else I could never have escaped it. _Ostendite mihi

numisma census._ Shew me, said he, a penny of the tribute money. They

laid snares to destroy him, but he overturneth them in their own

traps."[132]

[Sidenote: He appeals to the king, and is saved.]

The bishops, however, were not men who were nice in their adherence to

the laws; and it would have gone ill with Latimer, notwithstanding his

dialectic ability. He was excommunicated and imprisoned, and would soon

have fallen into worse extremities; but at the last moment he appealed

to the king, and the king, who knew his value, would not allow him to be

sacrificed. He had refused to subscribe the articles proposed to

him.[133] Henry intimated to the convocation that it was not his

pleasure that the matter should be pressed further; they were to content

themselves with a general submission, which should be made to the

archbishop, without exacting more special acknowledgments. This was the

reward to Latimer for his noble letter. He was absolved, and returned to

his parish, though snatched as a brand out of the fire.

Soon after, the tide turned, and the Reformation entered into a new

phase.

[Sidenote: Thomas Cromwell.]

Such is a brief sketch of the life of Hugh Latimer, to the time when it

blended with the broad stream of English history. With respect to the

other very great man whom the exigencies of the state called to power

simultaneously with him, our information is far less satisfactory.

Though our knowledge of Latimer's early story comes to us in fragments

only, yet there are certain marks in it by which the outline can be

determined with certainty. A cloud rests over the youth and early

manhood of Thomas Cromwell, through which, only at intervals, we catch

glimpses of authentic facts; and these few fragments of reality seem

rather to belong to a romance than to the actual life of a man.

[Sidenote: His father, one of the Cromwells of Lincolnshire, dies

early.]

[Sidenote: His mother re-marries, and her son becomes a vagabond.]

[Sidenote: Wild story of his journey to Rome.]

[Sidenote: His Italian wanderings.]

[Sidenote: The Florentine banker.]

Cromwell, the malleus monachorum, was of good English family, belonging

to the Cromwells of Lincolnshire. One of these, probably a younger

brother, moved up to London and conducted an ironfoundry, or other

business of that description, at Putney. He married a lady of

respectable connexions, of whom we know only that she was sister of the

wife of a gentleman in Derbyshire, but whose name does not appear.[134]

The old Cromwell dying early, the widow was remarried, to a

cloth-merchant; and the child of the first husband, who made himself so

great a name in English story, met with the reputed fortune of a

stepson, and became a vagabond in the wide world. The chart of his

course wholly fails us. One day in later life he shook by the hand an

old bellringer at Sion House before a crowd of courtiers, and told them

that "this man's father had given him many a dinner in his necessities."

And a strange random account is given by Foxe of his having joined a

party in an expedition to Rome to obtain a renewal from the pope of

certain immunities and indulgences for the town of Boston; a story which

derives some kind of credibility from its connexion with Lincolnshire,

but is full of incoherence and unlikelihood. Following still the popular

legend, we find him in the autumn of 1515 a ragged stripling at the door

of Frescobaldi's banking-house in Florence, begging for help.

Frescobaldi had an establishment in London,[135] with a large connexion

there; and seeing an English face, and seemingly an honest one, he asked

the boy who and what he was. "I am, sir," quoth he, "of England, and my

name is Thomas Cromwell; my father is a poor man, and by occupation a

clothshearer; I am strayed from my country, and am now come into Italy

with the camp of Frenchmen that were overthrown at Garigliano, where I

was page to a footman, carrying after him his pike and burganet."

Something in the boy's manner was said to have attracted the banker's

interest; he took him into his house, and after keeping him there as

long as he desired to stay, he gave him a horse and sixteen ducats to

help him home to England.[136] Foxe is the first English authority for

the story; and Foxe took it from Bandello, the novelist; but it is

confirmed by, or harmonizes with, a sketch of Cromwell's early life in a

letter of Chappuys, the imperial ambassador, to Chancellor Granvelle.

"Master Cromwell," wrote Chappuys in 1535, "is the son of a poor

blacksmith, who lived in a small village four miles from London, and is

buried in a common grave in the parish churchyard. In his youth, for

some offence, he was imprisoned, and had to leave the country. He went

to Flanders, and thence to Rome and other places in Italy."[137]

[Sidenote: He finds his way into the service of Wolsey.]

Returning to England, he married the daughter of a woollen-dealer, and

became a partner in the business, where he amassed or inherited a

considerable fortune.[138] Circumstances afterwards brought him, while

still young, in contact with Wolsey, who discovered his merit, took him

into service, and in 1525 employed him in the most important work of

visiting and breaking up the small monasteries, which the pope had

granted for the foundation of the new colleges. He was engaged with this

business for two years, and was so efficient that he obtained an

unpleasant notoriety, and complaints of his conduct found their way to

the king. Nothing came of these complaints, however, and Cromwell

remained with the cardinal till his fall.[139]

[Sidenote: Cromwell's noble conduct on Wolsey's fall.]

[Sidenote: Scene at Esher.]

[Sidenote: Cromwell's common saying, that he would either make or mar.]

[Sidenote: He defeats the attempted impeachment of Wolsey in the House

of Commons,]

It was then that the truly noble nature which was in him showed itself.

He accompanied his master through his dreary confinement at Esher,[140]

doing all that man could do to soften the outward wretchedness of it;

and at the meeting of parliament, in which he obtained a seat, he

rendered him a still more gallant service. The Lords had passed a bill

of impeachment against Wolsey, violent, vindictive, and malevolent. It

was to be submitted to the Commons, and Cromwell prepared to attempt an

opposition. Cavendish has left a most characteristic description of his

leaving Esher at this trying time. A cheerless November evening was

closing in with rain and storm. Wolsey was broken down with sorrow and

sickness; and had been unusually tried by parting with his retinue, whom

he had sent home, as unwilling to keep them attached any longer to his

fallen fortunes. When they were all gone, "My lord," says Cavendish,

"returned to his chamber, lamenting the departure of his servants,

making his moan unto Master Cromwell, who comforted him the best he

could, and desired my lord give him leave to go to London, where he

would either make or mar before he came again; which was always his

common saying. Then after long communication with my lord in secret, he

departed, and took his horse and rode to London; at whose departing I

was by, whom he bade farewell, and said, ye shall hear shortly of me,

and if I speed well I will not fail to be here again within these two

days."[141] He did speed well. "After two days he came again with a much

pleasanter countenance, and meeting with me before he came to my lord,

said unto me, that he had adventured to put in his foot where he trusted

shortly to be better regarded or all were done." He had stopped the

progress of the impeachment in the Lower House, and was answering the

articles one by one. In the evening he rode down to Esher for

instructions. In the morning he was again at his place in Parliament;

and he conducted the defence so skilfully, that finally he threw out the

bill, saved Wolsey, and himself "grew into such estimation in every

man's opinion, for his honest behaviour in his master's cause, that he

was esteemed the most faithfullest servant, [and] was of all men greatly

commended."[142]

[Sidenote: And passes into the service of the king.]

Henry admired his chivalry, and perhaps his talent. The loss of Wolsey

had left him without any very able man, unless we may consider Sir

Thomas More such, upon his council, and he could not calculate on More

for support in his anti-Roman policy; he was glad, therefore, to avail

himself of the service of a man who had given so rare a proof of

fidelity, and who had been trained by the ablest statesman of the

age.[143]

To Wolsey Cromwell could render no more service except as a friend, and

his warm friend he remained to the last. He became the king's secretary,

representing the government in the House of Commons, and was at once on

the high road to power. I cannot call him ambitious; an ambitious man

would scarcely have pursued so refined a policy, or have calculated on

the admiration which he gained by adhering to a fallen minister. He did

not seek greatness,--greatness rather sought him as the man in England

most fit to bear it. His business was to prepare the measures which were

to be submitted to Parliament by the government. His influence,

therefore, grew necessarily with the rapidity with which events were

ripening; and when the conclusive step was taken, and the king was

married, the virtual conduct of the Reformation passed into his hands.

His Protestant tendencies were unknown as yet, perhaps, even to his own

conscience; nor to the last could he arrive at any certain speculative

convictions. He was drawn towards the Protestants as he rose into power

by the integrity of his nature, which compelled him to trust only those

who were honest like himself.

NOTES:

[1] The origin of the word Lollards has been always a disputed question.

I conceive it to be from Lolium. They were the "tares" in the corn of

Catholicism.

[2] 35 Ed. I.; Statutes of Carlisle, cap. 1-4.

[3] 35 Ed. I. cap. 1-4.

[4] 25 Ed. III. stat. 4. A clause in the preamble of this act bears a

significantly Erastian complexion: _come seinte Eglise estoit founde en

estat de prelacie deins le royaulme Dengleterre par le dit Roi et ses

progenitours, et countes, barons, et nobles de ce Royaulme et lours

ancestres, pour eux et le poeple enfourmer de la lei Dieu._ If the

Church of England was held to have been founded not by the successors of

the Apostles, but by the king and the nobles, the claim of Henry VIII to

the supremacy was precisely in the spirit of the constitution.

[5] 38 Ed. III. stat. 2; 3 Ric. II. cap. 3; 12 Ric. II. cap. 15; 13 Ric.

II. stat. 2. The first of these acts contains a paragraph which shifts

the blame from the popes themselves to the officials of the Roman

courts. The statute is said to have been enacted en eide et confort du

pape qui moult sovent a estee trublez par tieles et semblables clamours

et impetracions, et qui y meist voluntiers covenable remedie, si sa

seyntetee estoit sur ces choses enfournee. I had regarded this passage

as a fiction of courtesy like that of the Long Parliament who levied

troops in the name of Charles I. The suspicious omission of the clause,

however, in the translation of the statutes which was made in the later

years of Henry VIII. justifies an interpretation more favourable to the

intentions of the popes.

[6] The abbots and bishops decently protested. Their protest was read in

parliament, and entered on the Rolls. _Rot. Parl._ III. [264] quoted by

Lingard, who has given a full account of these transactions.

[7] 13 Ric. II. stat. 2.

[8] See 16 Ric. II. cap. 5.

[9] This it will be remembered was the course which was afterwards

followed by the parliament under Henry VIII. before abolishing the

payment of first-fruits.

[10] Lingard says, that "there were rumours that if the prelates

executed the decree of the king's courts, they would be

excommunicated."--Vol. III. p. 172. The language of the act of

parliament, 16 Ric. II. cap. 5, is explicit that the sentence was

pronounced.

[11] 16 Ric. II. cap. 5.

[12] Ibid.

[13] 16 Ric. II. cap. 5.

[14] Lewis, _Life of Wycliffe_.

[15] If such _scientia media_ might be allowed to man, which is beneath

certainty and above conjecture, such should I call our persuasion that

he was born in Durham.--Fuller's _Worthies_, Vol. I. p. 479.

[16] _The Last Age of the Church_ was written in 1356. See Lewis, p. 3.

[17] Leland.

[18] Lewis, p. 287.

[19] 1 Ric. II. cap. 13.

[20] Walsingham, 206-7, apud Lingard. It is to be observed, however,

that Wycliffe himself limited his arguments strictly to the property of

the clergy. See Milman's _History of Latin Christianity_, Vol. V. p.

508.

[21] Walsingham, p. 275, apud Lingard.

[22] 5 Ric. II. cap. 5

[23] Wilkins, _Concilia_, III. 160-167.

[24] _De Heretico comburendo._ 2 Hen. IV. cap. 15.

[25] Stow, 330, 338.

[26] _Rot. Parl._ IV. 24, 108, apud Lingard; Rymer, IX. 89, 119, 129,

170, 193; Milman, Vol. V. p. 520-535.

[27] 2 Hen. V. stat. 1, cap. 7.

[28] There is no better test of the popular opinion of a man than the

character assigned to him on the stage; and till the close of the

sixteenth century Sir John Oldcastle remained the profligate buffoon of

English comedy. Whether in life he bore the character so assigned to

him, I am unable to say. The popularity of Henry V., and the splendour

of his French wars served no doubt to colour all who had opposed him

with a blacker shade than they deserved: but it is almost certain that

Shakspeare, though not intending Falstaff as a portrait of Oldcastle,

thought of him as he was designing the character; and it is altogether

certain that by the London public Falstaff was supposed to represent

Oldcastle. We can hardly suppose that such an expression as "my old lad

of the castle" should be accidental; and in the epilogue to the Second

Part of _Henry the Fourth_, when promising to reintroduce Falstaff once

more, Shakspeare says, "where for anything I know he shall die of the

sweat, for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man." He had,

therefore, certainly been supposed to _be the man_, and Falstaff

represented the English conception of the character of the Lollard hero.

I should add, however, that Dean Milman, who has examined the records

which remain to throw light on the character of this remarkable person

with elaborate care and ability, concludes emphatically in his favour.

[29] Two curious letters of Henry VI. upon the Lollards, written in

1431, are printed in the _Archaeologia_, Vol. XXIII. p. 339, &c. "As God

knoweth," he says of them, "never would they be subject to his laws nor

to man's, but would be loose and free to rob, reve, and dispoil, slay

and destroy all men of thrift and worship, as they proposed to have done

in our father's days; and of lads and lurdains would make lords."

[30] Proceedings of an organized Society in London called the Christian

Brethren, supported by voluntary contributions, for the dispersion of

tracts against the doctrines of the Church: _Rolls House MS._

[31] Hale's _Precedents_. The London and Lincoln Registers, in Foxe,

Vol. IV.; and the MS. Registers of Archbishops Morton and Warham, at

Lambeth.

[32] Knox's _History of the Reformation in Scotland_.

[33] Also we object to you that divers times, and specially in Robert

Durdant's house, of Iver Court, near unto Staines, you erroneously and

damnably read in a great book of heresy, all [one] night, certain

chapters of the Evangelists, in English, containing in them divers

erroneous and damnable opinions and conclusions of heresy, in the

presence of divers suspected persons.--Articles objected against Richard

Butler--London Register: Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 178.

[34] Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 176.

[35] Michelet, _Life of Luther_, p. 71.

[36] Ibid.

[37] Ibid. p. 41.

[38] Wood's _Athenae Oxonienses_.

[39] Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 618.

[40] The suspicious eyes of the Bishops discovered Tyndal's visit, and

the result which was to be expected from it.

On Dec. 2d, 1525, Edward Lee, afterwards Archbishop of York, then king's

almoner, and on a mission into Spain, wrote from Bordeaux to warn Henry.

The letter is instructive:

"Please your Highness to understand that I am certainly informed as I

passed in this country, that an Englishman, your subject, at the

solicitation and instance of Luther, with whom he is, hath translated

the New Testament into English; and within few days intendeth to return

with the same imprinted into England. I need not to advertise your Grace

what infection and danger may ensue hereby if it be not withstanded.

This is the next way to fulfil your realm with Lutherians. For all

Luther's perverse opinions be grounded upon bare words of Scripture, not

well taken, ne understanded which your Grace hath opened in sundry

places of your royal book. All our forefathers, governors of the Church

of England, hath with all diligence forbid and eschewed publication of

English Bibles, as appeareth in constitutions provincial of the Church

of England. Nowe, sire, as God hath endued your Grace with Christian

courage to sett forth the standard against these Philistines and to

vanquish them, so I doubt not but that he will assist your Grace to

prosecute and perform the same--that is, to undertread them that they

shall not now lift up their heads; which they endeavour by means of

English Bibles. They know what hurt such books hath done in your realm

in times past."--Edward Lee to Henry VIII.: Ellis, third series, Vol.

II. p. 71.

[41] Answer of the Bishops: _Rolls House MS._ See cap. 3.

[42] Answer of the Bishops, Vol. I. cap. 3.

[43] See, particularly, _State Papers_, Vol. VII. p. 302.

[44] Proceedings of the Christian Brethren: _Rolls House MS._

[45] See the letter of Bishop Fox to Wolsey: Strype's _Memorials_, Vol.

I. Appendix.

[46] Particulars of Persons who had dispersed Anabaptist and Lutheran

Tracts: _Rolls House MS._

[47] Dr. Taylor to Wolsey: _Rolls House MS._ Clark to Wolsey: _State

Papers_, Vol. VII. pp. 80, 81.

[48] Ellis, third series, Vol. II. p. 189.

[49] Memoirs of Latimer prefixed to Sermons, pp. 3, 4; and see Strype's

_Memorials_, Vol. I.

[50] Foxe, Vol. V. p. 416.

[51] Tunstall, Bishop of London, has had the credit hitherto of this

ingenious folly, the effect of which, as Sir Thomas More warned him,

could only be to supply Tyndal with money.--Hall, 762, 763. The

following letter from the Bishop of Norwich to Warham shows that

Tunstall was only acting in canonical obedience to the resolution of his

metropolitan:--

"In right humble manner I commend me unto your good Lordship, doing the

same to understand that I lately received your letters, dated at your

manor of Lambeth, the 26th day of the month of May, by the which I do

perceive that your Grace hath lately gotten into your hands all the

books of the New Testament, translated into English, and printed beyond

the sea; as well those with the glosses joined unto them as those

without the glosses.

"Surely, in myn opinion, you have done therein a gracious and a blessed

deed; and God, I doubt not, shall highly reward you therefore. And when,

in your said letters, ye write that, insomuch as this matter and the

danger thereof, if remedy had not been provided, should not only have

touched you, but all the bishops within your province; and that it is no

reason that the holle charge and cost thereof should rest only in you;

but that they and every of them, for their part, should advance and

contribute certain sums of money towards the same: I for my part will be

contented to advance in this behalf, and to make payment thereof unto

your servant, Master William Potkyn.

"Pleaseth it you to understand, I am well contented to give and advance

in this behalf ten marks, and shall cause the same to be delivered

shortly, the which sum I think sufficient for my part, if every bishop

within your province make like contribution, after the rate and

substance of their benefices. Nevertheless, if your Grace think this sum

not sufficient for my part in this matter, your further pleasure known,

I shall be as glad to conform myself thereunto in this, or any other

matter concerning the church, as any your subject within your province;

as knows Almighty God, who long preserve you. At Hoxne in Suffolk, the

14th day of June, 1527. Your humble obedience and bedeman,

R. NORWICEN."

[52] Foxe, Vol. IV.

[53] The papal bull, and the king's licence to proceed upon it are

printed in _Rymer_, Vol. VI. Part II. pp. 8 and 17. The latter is

explicit on Wolsey's personal liberality in establishing this

foundation. Ultro et ex propria liberalitate et munificentia, nec sine

gravissimo suo sumptu et impensis collegium fundare conatur.

[54] Would God my Lord his Grace had never been motioned to call any

Cambridge man to his most towardly college. It were a gracious deed if

they were tried and purged and restored unto their mother from whence

they came, if they be worthy to come thither again. We were clear

without blot or suspicion till they came, and some of them, as Master

Dean hath known a long time, hath had a shrewd name.--Dr. London to

Archbishop Warham: _Rolls House MS._

[55] Dr. London to Warham: _Rolls House MS._

[56] Dalaber's _Narrative_.

[57] Clark seems to have taken pupils in the long vacation. Dalaber at

least read with him all one summer in the country.--Dr. London to

Warham: _Rolls House MS._

[58] The Vicar of Bristol to the Master of Lincoln College, Oxford:

_Rolls House MS._

[59] Dr. London to Warham: _Rolls House MS._

[60] Radley himself was one of the singers at Christchurch. London to

Warham. _MS._

[61] Dr. London to Warham: _Rolls House MS._

[62] On the site of the present Worcester College. It lay beyond the

walls of the town, and was then some distance from it across the field.

[63] Christchurch, where Dalaber occasionally sung in the quire. Vide

infra.

[64] Some part of which let us read with him. "I send you forth as sheep

in the midst of wolves; be ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as

doves. But beware of men, for they will deliver you up to the councils,

and they will scourge you in their synagogues; and ye shall be brought

before governors and kings for my sake, for a testimony against them and

the gentiles. But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what

ye shall speak, for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye

shall speak; for it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father

which speaketh in you. And the brother shall deliver up the brother to

death; and the father the child; and the children shall rise up against

their parents, and cause them to be put to death. And ye shall be hated

of all men for my name's sake: but he that endureth to the end shall be

saved. Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I confess also

before my Father which is in heaven. Whosoever shall deny me before men,

him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven. Think not that

I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword.

For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the

daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her

mother-in-law. And a man's foes shall be they of his own household. He

that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. He that

loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. He that taketh

not his cross and followeth after me is not worthy of me. He that

findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake

shall find it."

[65] Rector of Lincoln.

[66] Warden of New College.

[67] The last prayer.

[68] Dr. Maitland, who has an indifferent opinion of the early

Protestants, especially on the point of veracity, brings forward this

assertion of Dalaber as an illustration of what he considers their

recklessness. It seems obvious, however, that a falsehood of this kind

is something different in kind from what we commonly mean by unveracity,

and has no affinity with it. I do not see my way to a conclusion; but I

am satisfied that Dr. Maitland's strictures are unjust. If Garret was

taken, he was in danger of a cruel death, and his escape could only be

made possible by throwing the bloodhounds off the scent. A refusal to

answer would not have been sufficient; and the general laws by which our

conduct is ordinarily to be directed cannot be made so universal in

their application as to meet all contingencies. It is a law that we may

not strike or kill other men, but occasions rise in which we may

innocently do both. I may kill a man in defence of my own life or my

friend's life, or even of my friend's property; and surely the

circumstances which dispense with obedience to one law may dispense

equally with obedience to another. _If_ I may kill a man to prevent him

from robbing my friend, why may I not deceive a man to save my friend

from being barbarously murdered? It is possible that the highest

morality would forbid me to do either. I am unable to see why, if the

first be permissible, the second should be a crime. Rahab of Jericho did

the same thing which Dalaber did, and on that very ground was placed in

the catalogue of saints.

[69] A cell in the Tower, the nature of which we need not inquire into.

[70] Foxe, Vol. V. p. 421.

[71] Dr. London to the Bishop of Lincoln: _Rolls House MS._

[72] Ibid.

[73] Dr. Forman, rector of All Hallows, who had himself been in trouble

for heterodoxy.

[74] Dr. London to the Bishop of Lincoln, Feb. 20. 1528: _Rolls House

MS._

[75] Now Cokethorpe Park, three miles from Stanton Harcourt, and about

twelve from Oxford. The village has disappeared.

[76] Vicar of All Saints, Bristol, to the Rector of Lincoln: _Rolls

House MS._

[77] The Vicar of All Saints to the Rector of Lincoln: _Rolls House MS._

[78] Dr. London to the Bishop of Lincoln: _Rolls House MS._

[79] Long extracts from it are printed in Foxe, Vol. IV.

[80] Another of the brethren, afterwards Bishop of St. David's, and one

of the Marian victims.

[81] Bishop of Lincoln to Wolsey, March 5, 1527-8: _Rolls House MS._;

and see Ellis, third series, Vol. II. p. 77.

[82] Ellis, third series, Vol. II. p. 77.

[83] With some others he "was cast into a prison where the salt-fish

lay, through the stink whereof the most part of them were infected; and

the said Clark, being a tender young man, died in the same

prison."--Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 615.

[84] London to Warham: _Rolls House MS._

[85] Petition of the Commons, Vol. I. cap. 3.

[86] Ibid. And, as we saw in the bishops' reply, they considered their

practice in these respects wholly defensible.--See _Reply of the

Bishops_, cap. 3.

[87] Petition of the Commons, cap 3.

[88] 2 Hen. V. stat. 1.

[89] He had been "troublesome to heretics," he said, and he had "done it

with a little ambition;" for "he so hated this kind of men, that he

would be the sorest enemy that they could have, if they would not

repent."--More's _Life of More_, p. 211.

[90] See Foxe, Vol. IV. pp. 689, 698, 705.

[91] 2 Hen V. stat 1.

[92] John Stokesley.

[93] Petition of Thomas Philips to the House of Commons: _Rolls House

MS._

[94] Ibid.

[95] Foxe, Vol. V. pp. 29, 30.

[96] The circumstances are curious. Philips begged that he might have

the benefit of the king's writ of corpus cum causa, and be brought to

the bar of the House of Commons, where the Bishop of London should be

subpoenaed to meet him. [Petition of Thomas Philips: _Rolls House

MS._] The Commons did not venture on so strong a measure; but a digest

of the petition was sent to the Upper House, that the bishop might have

an opportunity of reply. The Lords refused to receive or consider the

case: they replied that it was too "frivolous an affair" for so grave an

assembly, and that they could not discuss it. [_Lords' Journals_, Vol.

I. p. 66.] A deputation of the Commons then waited privately upon the

bishop, and being of course anxious to ascertain whether Philips had

given a true version of what had passed, they begged him to give some

written explanation of his conduct, which might be read in the Commons'

House. [_Lords' Journals_, Vol. I. p. 71.] The request was reasonable,

and we cannot doubt that, if explanation had been possible, the bishop

would not have failed to offer it; but he preferred to shield himself

behind the judgment of the Lords. The Lords, he said, had decided that

the matter was too frivolous for their own consideration; and without

their permission, he might not set a precedent of responsibility to the

Commons by answering their questions.

This conduct met with the unanimous approval of the Peers. [_Lords'

Journals_, Vol. I. p. 71. Omnes proceres tam spirituales quam temporales

una voce dicebant, quod non consentaneum fuit aliquem procerum

praedictorum alicui in eo loco responsurum.] The demand for explanation

was treated as a breach of privilege, and the bishop was allowed to

remain silent. But the time was passed for conduct of this kind to be

allowed to triumph. If the bishop could not or would not justify

himself, his victim might at least be released from unjust imprisonment.

The case was referred to the king and by the king and the House of

Commons Philips was set at liberty.

[97] Petition of John Field: _Rolls House MS._

[98] Jan 1529-30.

[99] Illegal. See 2 Hen. V. Stat. 2.

[100] Seventh Sermon before King Edward. First Sermon before the Duchess

of Suffolk.

[101] Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 649.

[102] Articles against James Bainham: Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 703.

[103] Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 702.

[104] Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 705.

[105] Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 694.

[106] Hall, p. 806; and see Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 705.

[107] Instructions given by the Bishop of Salisbury: Burnet's

_Collectanea_, p. 493.

[108] From a Letter of Robert Gardiner: Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 706.

[109] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 101.

[110] Latimer speaks of sons and daughters.--_Sermons_, p. 101.

[111] Ibid.

[112] Where the Cornish rebels came to an end in 1497.--Bacon's _History

of Henry the Seventh_.

[113] Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 197.

[114] On which occasion, old relations perhaps shook their heads, and

made objection to the expense. Some such feeling is indicated in the

following glimpse behind the veil of Latimer's private history:--

"I was once called to one of my kinsfolk," he says ("it was at that time

when I had taken my degree at Cambridge); I was called, I say, to one of

my kinsfolk which was very sick, and died immediately after my coming.

Now, there was an old cousin of mine, which, after the man was dead,

gave me a wax candle in my hand, and commanded me to make certain

crosses over him that was dead; for she thought the devil should run

away by and bye. Now, I took the candle, but I could not cross him as

she would have me to do; for I had never seen it before. She, perceiving

I could not do it, with great anger took the candle out of my hand,

saying, 'It is pity that thy father spendeth so much money upon thee;'

and so she took the candle, and crossed and blessed him; so that he was

sure enough."--Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 499.

[115] "I was as obstinate a papist as any was in England, insomuch that,

when I should be made Bachelor of Divinity, my whole oration went

against Philip Melancthon and his opinions."--Latimer's _Sermons_, p.

334.

[116] _Jewel of Joy_, p. 224, et seq.: Parker Society's edition.

Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 3.

[117] Latimer's _Remains_, pp. 27-31.

[118] Latimer's _Remains_, pp. 308-9.

[119] Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton: _Letters_, p. 329.

[120] _Letters_, p. 323.

[121] He thought of going abroad. "I have trust that God will help me,"

he wrote to a friend; "if I had not, I think the ocean sea should have

divided my Lord of London and me by this day."--_Remains_, p. 334.

[122] Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton.

[123] See Latimer's two letters to Sir Edward Baynton: _Remains_, pp.

322-351.

[124] "As ye say, the matter is weighty, and ought substantially to be

looked upon, even as weighty as my life is worth; but how to look

substantially upon it otherwise know not I, than to pray my Lord God,

day and night, that, as he hath emboldened me to preach his truth, so he

will strengthen me to suffer for it.

"I pray you pardon me that I write no more distinctly, for my head is

(so) out of frame, that it would be too painful for me to write it

again. If I be not prevented shortly, I intend to make merry with my

parishioners, this Christmas, for all the sorrow, _lest perchance I

never return to them again_; and I have heard say that a doe is as good

in winter as a buck in summer."--Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton, p. 334.

[125] Latimer's _Remains_, p. 334.

[126] Ibid. p. 350.

[127] "I pray you, in God's name, what did you, so great fathers, so

many, so long season, so oft assembled together? What went you about?

What would ye have brought to pass? Two things taken away--the one that

ye (which I heard) burned a dead man,--the other, that ye (which I felt)

went about to burn one being alive. Take away these two noble acts, and

there is nothing else left that ye went about that I know," &c.

&c.--Sermon preached before the Convocation: Latimer's _Sermons_, p. 46.

[128] "My affair had some bounds assigned to it by him who sent for me

up, but is now protracted by intricate and wily examinations, as if it

would never find a period; while sometimes one person, sometimes

another, ask me questions, without limit and without end."--Latimer to

the Archbishop of Canterbury: _Remains_, p. 352.

[129] _Remains_, p. 222.

[130] _Sermons_, p. 294.

[131] The process lasted through January, February, and March.

[132] _Sermons_, p. 294.

[133] He subscribed all except two--one apparently on the power of the

pope, the other I am unable to conjecture. Compare the Articles

themselves--printed in Latimer's _Remains_, p. 466--with the Sermon

before the Convocation.--_Sermons_, p. 46; and Burnet, Vol. III. p. 116.

[134] Nicholas Glossop to Cromwell: Ellis, third series, Vol. II. p.

237.

[135] Where he was known among the English of the day as Master

Friskyball.

[136] See Foxe, Vol. V. p. 392.

[137] Eustace Chappuys to Chancellor Granvelle: _MS. Archiv. Brussels:

Pilgrim_, p. 106.

[138] See Cromwell's will in an appendix to this chapter. This document,

lately found in the Rolls House, furnishes a clue at last to the

connexions of the Cromwell family.

[139] Are we to believe Foxe's story that Cromwell was with the Duke of

Bourbon at the storming of Rome in May, 1527? See Foxe, Vol. V. p. 365.

He was with Wolsey in January, 1527. See Ellis, third series, Vol. II.

p. 117. And he was again with him early in 1528. Is it likely that he

was in Italy on such an occasion in the interval? Foxe speaks of it as

one of the random exploits of Cromwell's youth, which is obviously

untrue; and the natural impression which we gather is, that he was

confusing the expedition of the Duke of Bourbon with some earlier

campaign. On the other hand Foxe's authority was Cranmer, who was likely

to know the truth: and it is not impossible that, in the critical state

of Italian politics, the English government might have desired to have

some confidential agent in the Duke of Bourbon's camp. Cromwell, with

his knowledge of Italy and Italian, and his adventurous ability, was a

likely man to have been sent on such an employment; and the story gains

additional probability from another legend about him, that he once saved

the life of Sir John Russell, in some secret affair at Bologna. See

Foxe, Vol. V. p. 367. Now, although Sir John Russell had been in Italy

several times before (he was at the Battle of Pavia, and had been

employed in various diplomatic missions), and Cromwell might thus have

rendered him the service in question on an earlier occasion, yet he

certainly was in the Papal States, on a most secret and dangerous

mission, in the months preceding the capture of Rome. _State Papers_,

Vol. VI. p. 560, &c. The probabilities may pass for what they are worth

till further discovery.

[140] A damp, unfurnished house belonging to Wolsey, where he was

ordered to remain till the government had determined upon their course

towards him. See Cavendish.

[141] Cavendish, pp. 269, 270.

[142] Cavendish, p. 276.

[143] Chappuys says, that a quarrel with Sir John Wallop first

introduced Cromwell to Henry. Cromwell, "not knowing how else to defend

himself, contrived with presents and entreaties to obtain an audience of

the king, whom he promised to make the richest sovereign that ever

reigned in England."--Chappuys to Granvelle: _The Pilgrim_, p. 107.

APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VI.

WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL.--1529.

In the name of God, Amen. The 12th day of July, in the year of our Lord

God MCCCCCXXIX., and in the 21st year of the reign of our Sovereign

Lord, King Henry VIII., I, Thomas Cromwell, of London, Gentleman, being

whole in body and in good and perfect memory, lauded be the Holy

Trinity, make, ordain, and declare this my present testament, containing

my last will, in manner as following:--First I bequeath my soul to the

great God of heaven, my Maker, Creator, and Redeemer, beseeching the

most glorious Virgin and blessed Lady Saint Mary the Virgin and Mother,

with all the holy company of heaven to be mediators and intercessors for

me to the Holy Trinity, so that I may be able, when it shall please

Almighty God to call me out of this miserable world and transitory life,

to inherit the kingdom of heaven amongst the number of good Christian

people; and whensoever I shall depart this present life I bequeath my

body to be buried where it shall please God to ordain me to die, and to

be ordered after the discretion of mine executors undernamed. And for my

goods which our Lord hath lent me in this world, I will shall be ordered

and disposed in manner and form as hereafter shall ensue. First I give

and bequeath unto my son Gregory Cromwell six hundred threescore six

pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence, of lawful money of England,

with the which six hundred threescore six pounds, thirteen shillings,

and fourpence, I will mine executors undernamed immediately or as soon

as they conveniently may after my decease, shall purchase lands,

tenements, and hereditaments to the clear yearly value of 33_l._ 6_s._

8_d._ by the year above all charges and reprises to the use of my said

son Gregory, for term of his life; and after the decease of the said

Gregory to the heirs male of his body lawfully to be begotten, and for

lack of heirs male of the body of the said Gregory, lawfully begotten,

to the heirs general of his body lawfully begotten. And for lack of such

heirs to the right heirs of me the said Thomas Cromwell, in fee. I will

also that immediately and as soon as the said lands, tenements, and

hereditaments shall be so purchased after my death as is aforesaid by

mine executors, that the yearly profits thereof shall be wholly spent

and employed in and about the education and finding honestly of my said

son Gregory, in virtue, good learning, and manners, until such time as

he shall come to the full age of 24 years. During which time I heartily

desire and require my said executors to be good unto my said son

Gregory, and to see he do lose no time, but to see him virtuously

ordered and brought up according to my trust.

Item. I give and bequeath to my said son Gregory, (when he shall come to

his full age of 24 years,) two hundred pounds of lawful English money to

order them as our Lord shall give him grace and discretion, which

200_l._ I will shall be put in surety to the intent the same may come to

his hands at his said age of 24 years. Item. I give and bequeath to my

said son Gregory of such household stuff as God hath lent me, three of

my best featherbeds with their bolsters; 2_d._, the best pair of

blankets of fustian, my best coverlet of tapestry, and my quilt of

yellow Turkey satin; one pair of my best sheets, four pillows of down,

with four pair of the best pillowberes, four of my best table-cloths,

four of my best towels, two dozen of my finest napkins, and two dozen of

my other napkins, two garnish of my best vessel, three of my best brass

pots, three of my best brass pans, two of my best kettles, two of my

best spits, my best joined bed of Flanders work, with the best ---- and

tester, and other the appurtenances thereto belonging; my best press,

carven of Flanders work, and my best cupboard, carven of Flanders work,

with also six joined stools of Flanders work, and six of my best

cushions. Item. I give and bequeath to my said son Gregory a basin with

an ewer parcel-gilt, my best salt gilt, my best cup gilt, three of my

best goblets; three other of my goblets parcel-gilt, twelve of my best

silver spoons, three of my best drinking alepots gilt; all the which

parcels of plate and household stuff I will shall be safely kept to the

use of my said son Gregory till he shall come to his said full age of

24. And all the which plate, household stuff, napery, and all other the

premises, I will mine executors do put in safe keeping until my said son

come to the said years or age of 24. And if he die before the age of 24,

then I will all the said plate, vessel, and household stuff shall be

sold by mine executors. And the money thereof coming to be given and

equally divided amongst my poor kinsfolk, that is to say, amongst the

children as well of mine own sisters Elizabeth and Katherine, as of my

late wife's sister Joan, wife to John Williamson;[144] and if it happen

that all the children of my said sisters and sister-in-law do die before

the partition be made, and none of them be living, then I will that all

the said plate, vessel, and household stuff shall be sold and given to

other my poor kinsfolk then being in life, and other poor and indigent

people, in deeds of charity for my soul, my father and mother their

souls, and all Christian souls.

[[145]Item. I give and bequeath to my daughter Anne an hundred marks of

lawful money of England when she shall come to her lawful age or happen

to be married, and 40_l._ toward her finding until the time that she

shall be of lawful age or be married, which 40_l._ I will shall be

delivered to my friend John Cook, one of the six Clerks of the King's

Chancery, to the intent he may order the same and cause the same to be

employed in the best wise he can devise about the virtuous education and

bringing up of my said daughter till she shall come to her lawful age or

marriage. Then I will that the said 100 marks, and so much of the said

40_l._ as then shall be unspent and unemployed at the day of the death

of my said daughter Anne, I will it shall remain to Gregory my son, if

he then be in life; and if he be dead, the same hundred marks, and also

so much of the said 40_l._ as then shall be unspent, to be departed

amongst my sisters' children, in manner and form aforesaid. And if it

happen my said sisters' children then to be all dead, then I will the

said 100 marks and so much of the said 40_l._ as shall be unspent, shall

be divided amongst my kinsfolk, such as then shall be in life.] Item. I

give and bequeath unto my sister Elizabeth Wellyfed 40_l._, three

goblets without a cover, a mazer, and a nut. Item. I give and bequeath

to my nephew Richard Willyams [[146] servant with my Lord Marquess

Dorset, 66_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._], 40_l._ sterling, my [[146] fourth] best

gown, doublet, and jacket. Item. I give and bequeath to my nephew

Christopher Wellyfed 40_l._, [[146] 20_l._] my fifth gown, doublet, and

jacket. Item. I give and bequeath to my nephew William Wellyfed the

younger 20_l._, [[146] 40_l._] Item. I give and bequeath to my niece Alice

Wellyfed, to her marriage, 20_l._ And if it happen, her to die before

marriage, then I will that the said 20_l._ shall remain to her brother

Christopher. And if it happen him to die, the same 20_l._ to remain to

Wm. Wellyfed the younger, his brother. And if it happen them all to die

before their lawful age or marriage, then I will that all their parts

shall remain to Gregory my son. And if it happen him to die before them,

then I will all the said parts shall remain [[146] to Anne and Grace, my

daughters] to Richard Willyams and Walter Willyams, my nephews. And if

it happen them to die, then I will that all the said parts shall be

distributed in deeds of charity for my soul, my father's and mother's

souls, and all Christian souls. Item. I give and bequeath to my

mother-in-law Mercy Prior 40_l._ of lawful English money, and her

chamber, with certain household stuff; that is to say, a featherbed, a

bolster, two pillows with their beres, six pair of sheets, a pair of

blankets, a garnish of vessel, two pots, two pans, two spits, with such

other of my household stuff as shall be thought meet for her by the

discretion of mine executors, and such as she will reasonably desire,

not being bequeathed to other uses in this my present testament and last

will. Item. I give and bequeath to my said mother-in-law a little salt

of silver, a mazer, six silver spoons, and a drinking-pot of silver. And

also I charge mine executors to be good unto her during her life. Item.

I give and bequeath to my brother-in-law William Wellyfed, 20_l._, my

third gown, jacket, and doublet. Item. I give and bequeath to John

Willyams my brother-in-law, 100 marks, a gown, a doublet, a jacket, a

featherbed, a bolster, six pair of sheets, two table-cloths, two dozen

napkins, two towels, two brass pots, two brass pans, a silver pot, a nut

parcel-gilt; and to Joan, his wife, 40_l._ Item. I give and bequeath to

Joan Willyams, their daughter, to her marriage, 20_l._, and to every

other of their children 12_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ Item. I bequeath to Walter

Willyams, my nephew, 20_l._ Item. I give and bequeath to Ralph Sadler,

my servant, 200 marks of lawful English money, my second gown, jacket,

and doublet, and all my books. Item. I give and bequeath to Hugh

Whalley, my servant, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ Item. I give and bequeath to

Stephen Vaughan, sometime my servant, 100 marks, a gown, jacket, and

doublet. Item. I give and bequeath to Page, my servant, otherwise called

John De Pount, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ [[146] Item. I give and bequeath to

Elizabeth Gregory, sometime my servant, 20_l._, six pair of sheets, a

featherbed, a pair of blankets, a coverlet, two table-cloths, one dozen

napkins, two brass pots, two pans, two spits.] And also to Thomas

Averey, my servant, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ [[146] Item. I give and bequeath to

John Cooke, one of the six Master Clerks of the Chancery, 10_l._, my

second gown, doublet, and jacket. Item. I give and bequeath to Roger

More, servant of the King's bakehouse, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._, three yards

of satin; and to Maudelyn, his wife, 3_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._] Item. I give and

bequeath to John Horwood, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ [[146] Item. I give and

bequeath to my little daughter Grace 100 marks of lawful English money

when she shall come to her lawful age or marriage; and also 40_l._

towards her exhibition and finding until such time she shall be of

lawful age or be married, which 40_l._ I will shall be delivered to my

brother-in-law, John Willyams, to the intent he may order and cause the

same to be employed in and about the virtuous education and bringing up

of my said daughter, till she shall come to her lawful age or marriage.

And if it happen my said daughter to die before she come to her lawful

age or marriage, then I will that the said 100 marks, and so much of the

said 40_l._ as shall then be unspent and unemployed about the finding of

my said daughter at the day of the death of my said daughter shall

remain and be delivered to Gregory my son, if he then shall happen to be

in life; and if he be dead, then the said 100 marks, and the said

residue of the said 40_l._, to be evenly departed among my grown

kinsfolk--that is to say, my sisters' children aforesaid.] Item. That

the rest of mine apparel before not given or bequeathed in this my

testament and last will shall be given and equally departed amongst my

servants after the order and discretion of mine executors. Item. I will

also that mine executors shall take the yearly profits above the charges

of my farm of Carberry, and all other things contained in my said lease

of Carberry, in the county of Middlesex, and with the profits thereof

shall yearly pay unto my brother-in-law William (Wellyfed) and Elizabeth

his wife, mine only sister, twenty pounds; give and distribute for my

soul quarterly 40 shillings during their lives and the longer of them;

and after the decease of the said William and Elizabeth, the profits of

the said farm over and above the yearly rent to be kept to the use of my

son Gregory till he be come to the age of 24 years. And at the years of

24 the said lease and farm of Carberry, I do give and bequeath to my son

Gregory, to have the same to him, his executors and assigns. And if it

fortune the said Gregory my son to die before, my said brother-in-law

and sister being dead, he shall come to the age of 24 years, then I will

my said cousin Richard Willyams shall have the farm with the

appurtenances to him and to his executors and assigns; and if it happen

my said brother-in-law, my sister, my son Gregory, and my said cousin

Richard, to die before the accomplishment of this my will touching the

said farm, then I will mine executors shall sell the said farm, and the

money thereof coming to employ in deeds of charity, to pray for my soul

and all Christian souls. Item. I will mine executors shall conduct and

hire a priest, being an honest person of continent and good living, to

sing for my soul by the space of seven years next after my death, and to

give him for the same 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ for his stipend. Item. I give

and bequeath towards the making of highways in this realm, where it

shall be thought most necessary, 20_l._ to be disposed by the discretion

of mine executors. Item. I give and bequeath to every the five orders of

Friars within the City of London, to pray for my soul, 20 shillings.

Item. I give and bequeath to 60 poor maidens in marriage, 40_l._, that

is to say, 13_s._ 4_d._ to every of the said poor maidens, to be given

and distributed by the discretion of mine executors. Item. I will that

there shall be dealt and given after my decease amongst poor people

householders, to pray for my soul, 20_l._, such as by mine executors

shall be thought most needful. Item. I give and bequeath to the poor

parishioners of the parish where God shall ordain me to have my

dwellingplace at the time of my death, 10_l._, to be truly distributed

amongst them by the discretion of mine executors. Item. I give and

bequeath to my parish church for my tithes forgotten, 20 shillings.

Item. To the poor prisoners of Newgate, Ludgate, King's Bench, and

Marshalsea, to be equally distributed amongst them, 10_l._ Willing,

charging, and desiring mine executors underwritten, that they shall see

this my will performed in every point according to my true meaning and

intent as they will answer to God, and discharge their consciences. The

residue of all my goods, chattels, and debts not bequeathed, my funeral

and burial performed, which I will shall be done without any earthly

pomp, and my debts paid, I will shall be sold, and the money thereof

coming, to be distributed in works of charity and pity, after the good

discretion of mine executors undernamed. Whom I make and ordain, Stephen

Vaughan, Ralph Sadler, my servants, and John Willyams my brother-in-law.

Praying and desiring the same mine executors to be good unto my son

Gregory, and to all other my poor friends and kinsfolk and servants

aforenamed in this my testament. And of this my present testament and

last will I make Roger More mine overseer; unto whom and also to every

of the other mine executors I give and bequeath 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._ for

their pains to be taken in the execution of this my last will and

testament, over and above such legacies as herebefore I have bequeathed

them in this same testament and will. In witness whereof, to this my

present testament and last will I have set to my hand in every leaf

contained in this book, the day and year before limited.

THOMAS CROMWELL.

Item. I give and bequeath to William Brabazon, my servant, 20_l._ 8_s._,

a gun, a doublet, a jacket, and my second gelding.

It. to John Avery, Yeoman of the Bedchamber with the King's Highness,

6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._, and a doublet of satin.

It. to Thurston, my cook, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._

It. to William Body, my servant, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._

It. to Peter Mewtas, my servant, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._

It. to Ric. Sleysh, my servant, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._

It. to George Wilkinson, my servant, 6_l._ 13_s._ 4_d._

It. to my friend, Thomas Alvard, 10_l._, and my best gelding.

It. to my friend, Thomas Bush, 10_l._

It. to my servant, John Hynde, my horsekeeper, 3_l._ 6_s._ 8_d._

Item. I will that mine executors shall safely keep the patent of the

manor of Romney to the use of my son Gregory, and the money growing

thereof, till he shall come to his lawful age, to be yearly received to

the use of my said son, and the whole revenue thereof coming to be truly

paid unto him at such time as he shall come to the age of 24 years.

NOTES:

[144] Or Willyams. The words are used indifferently.

[145] The clause enclosed between brackets is struck through.

[146] Struck through.