THE MONASTERIES.
The space alloted to this work will not be wide enough to embrace the
gradual progress of Wolsey to that greatness which he attained. The
object in view was to show that he was anything but a mean man in his
birth, though had that been to, it would have been no disgrace, and
that he was brought up in his youth with an early love of everything
that was generous and praiseworthy. It was not until his youthful
disappointment had left him nothing but the pursuit of his own
gratification in the fields of ambition and vain-glory, that Wolsey's
character changed from a lover of truth, virtue, and humility, to
become an aspiring, time-serving politician.
It is strange that a man who had assumed the priesthood, at that time
the vehicle of letters in some few, but of enormous bigotry and
superstition in the mass, should bury his love of truth in the vast
vortex of worldly ambition. He left truth to shine in his native
place, whilst he pursued the phantom of idolatry through all the
labyrinths of expedient invention. His love of literature he could
not abandon. It was part and parcel of his life, which remained with
him through all his progress, and has served to extend his fame
through ages of darkness, even to the present time. His erudition
was, beyond all doubt, genuine and powerful.
He took no particular delight in encouraging individual instances of
mental superiority, though the learned Erasmus speaks so flatteringly
of his sumptuous entertainments to the stars of genius, as to make a
seat at his table one of the things most desired in England. From
the great men of letters in his day, he never called forth a
sentiment of gratitude for any encouragement he had given them. With
the exception of Sir Thomas More, scarcely any literary character
received any support from him; and in him he supported a successor.
His views comprehended the revival of the whole people from ignorance
by the means of scholastic discipline; and his ideas of the diffusion
of learning were connected with schools, seminaries, and colleges,
the very architecture of which should speak the taste of their
projector.
Wolsey had, in early life, imbibed a species of contempt for the
monastic impositions, which retained the people in ignorance, but he
could not become indifferent to the lustre of the Papacy, to which
his soul aspired; no, not even for the sake of truth. It was hence
that the patronage of the literature he so much admired as the
production of the universities and schools became confined to men who
upheld the Papal dominion.
He obtained power as legate to subdue the monasteries, only because
he conceived that their wealth would be converted into a channel more
conducive to the dignity and grandeur of Rome; and as the popedom
was, in his ambitious eye, the very kingdom of all kingdoms of the
earth, and he was the man to sit upon that throne, he thought that by
entitling himself to the respect of England for his encouragement of
learning, he should one day receive the distinction he coveted.
He was made to do much for letters, but little for the truth. His
persecution of the reformers will sufficiently prove this. But
whilst Wolsey journeyed to power, the friends of his youth journeyed
to heaven through a straight and narrow path which was not suited to
his ambition.
Lord De Freston, Latimer, and Ellen, and a few more independent and
eminent spirits in the neighborhood of Ipswich, became candidates for
the crown of glory through the medium of persecution.
Love, truth, fidelity, wisdom, knowledge, peace, and joy, together
with some warm friendship from kindred spirits of intelligence, made
the years roll on, not without a glowing interest, hope, and
persuasion, that ultimately the doctrines of the dawning reformation
would prevail.
As Wolsey's power increased, there was a certain increase of learning
which added much to the desired improvement of morals among the
Romish clergy, who, at that time, were notorious for licentiousness,
because of the ease with which they could both obtain and grant
pardons. The monasteries, though the seats of hospitality, were also
the seats of imposition and secret vice, which became at last so
glaring as to awaken strong minds to a sense of their shameless
prostitution.
Wolsey, who had risen to the dignity of Cardinal, took advantage of
the cry then rising, to sweep off the lesser houses, and to impose
certain fines upon others for the benefit of his foundations of
learning. He occasioned, as would naturally be expected, great grief
in some districts, where the monks were far less vicious than in
others; but it was a strange infatuation in him, that whist he was
pulling down with one hand the monasteries and monks, he should be
with the other encouraging the nunneries, which were then attaining
such wealth as to make them desired by the great.
News reached Ipswich, that the great man himself, though so austere
and severe towards the inferior clergy, was anything but a pattern of
virtue.
'I have here,' said Latimer to the Lord De Freston, 'a singular
production of Dan Lydgate's, and if our friend in power should catch
sight of it, it might so happen that even Lydgate would lose his
priesthood:
Alice De Clinton,
Prioress of Winton,
Summer's for thee no more;
The Cardinal's favor
Has in it such savor,
Thou shalt not long deplore.
Winter were summer known,
Melting for such a crown,
Alice De Clinton's call:
The proud one can change
From her haughtiest range,
O'er the turrets of Goldwell Hall.
The Abbess De Winter,
No matter the splinter,
Is fit for the priory found;
And the Winter nuns,
Whom nobody shuns,
Shall in Winter fires abound.
O, who would not bend,
To the Cardinal's friend,
Be she what she may chance to be;
For 'tis better for her
Such a place to prefer,
So becoming her dignity.'
'Singular, indeed, it is. I hear that Warham has complained to the
King of his favorite's proceedings, and that Wolsey is likely to be
in disgrace.'
'I heard as much through Wentworth, only yesterday, who was telling
me, also, that the Cardinal had made his peace with the King, by
protesting that the appointment of the Abbess of Winton was only
under the hope, or at least, with the proviso, that the King approved
it.'
'Did you hear the King's commands to the Cardinal? "See to it,
Wolsey, this appointment displeases us. We are not used to exalt
proud ladies, who can be humble only as it may suit my Lord Cardinal.
Thou mayst protect thine own favorites, but not at the cost of the
church, my lord. Therefore, for shame's sake, let us not have this
monstrous fair one made the Abbess of Winton."'
'Ah, my Lord De Freston, this is no news then unto thee; but I can
perchance tell thee something which, as yet, thou knowest not; for
only as I left Ipswich did the messenger arrive. The imperious Allen
and his executioners have arrived to suppress the monasteries of
Suffolk, and confiscate all the revenues to the crown. A court will
be held to-morrow at the priory of St. Peter's; and Alneshborne, as
being one of the smaller fraternities, will be one of the first to
suffer. Our friend John must be apprised of his coming.'
'He will not be surprised. Already has he received tidings of the
suppression of the religious houses in Essex and Cambridgeshire, and
though a vague thought had dwelt with him that from Wolsey's
knowledge of the regularity and piety of his order he might be
spared, more especially as the great man, when a little man, was a
welcome student within the walls of his priory, yet we shall find him
prepared to obey the Pope's legate in temporalities, and that is all
he supposes that will be required of him. We will visit him
ourselves, my son.'
It did not take long for De Freston's boatmen to speed over the waves
of the Orwell to Alneshborne Priory. Short, however, as was the
time, they found the whole fraternity assembled in the hall to hear
the summons already issued by authority of the legate. So quickly
did the Cardinal's emissaries proceed to the work appointed them.
They arrived in time to hear the Pope's Bull read, authorizing the
dissolution of the monasteries of Romboro, Felixtow, Bromehil,
Bliborow, and Montjoye, and upon the site of the ancient foundation
of St. Peter's, at Ipswich, the building a new seat of learning. And
for the better effecting of which great and godly purpose, all the
revenues belonging to the said monasteries were to be forthwith
entirely at the disposal of the Cardinal, and to be used by him in
furtherance of his proposed object, to the glory of God and the honor
of the church of Rome, etc.
Signed,
CLEMENS, PAPA SEPTIMUS.
The most singular extension of authority was that which ran thus:
'In pursuance of the powers vested in us, we the Cardinal, as the
Pope's legate, do hereby grant unto the united brethren of
Alneshborne, full powers of absolution from their monastic vows; and
to be exempt from all suit or service to the Priories of Woodbridge,
or St. Peter's, Ipswich. That from the date hereof, and the delivery
of a schedule of all the property belonging unto the said community,
that society is henceforth dissolved, and the members are at liberty
to seek their livelihood in whatever manner they may be able, and
wheresoever they may be pleased to go, either within or beyond the
Pope's dominions.'
How kind and considerate it was of the Pope to take away all their
property, and give it to one man, and that man one whom the
dispossessed remembered as a boy, frequently indulging in friendly
conversation with them! How very kind it was of him, when he had
deprived them of everything, to permit them to go about their
business! John of Alneshborne, a fine old man, stood with his placid
face beaming kindness upon his brethren, as Allen--Wolsey's
commissioner--read, line by line, in a language they understood too
well, the orders of his master.
The orbs of the fine old patriarch were dim with tears, which, before
the last concluding 'Vale et Vade,' literally ran down his venerable
cheeks.
However small had been the real utility of their order, there was a
quiet, inobtrusive seclusion in their position on the banks of the
Orwell, which every member of that community had for years enjoyed
undisturbed. The venerable fraternity had spoken together upon the
probability of their dissolution; yet they evidently did not expect
the day to be so near. When it came, it found them very unwilling to
part, and gave them great surprise and sorrow.
Lord De Freston and William Latimer looked with compassion. Each
resolved to offer them present help, until they could find some
locality or employment suited to their habits. Men long accustomed
to the solitude of monastic life, where everything is conducted in
regular order of time and occupation, do not find themselves about to
be separated without emotion. They could see each other depart this
life in their cells, with less tenderness and more resignation, than
in the midst of life, or rather in its decline, to see each other
take leave of home, for poverty, wretchedness, and uncertainty. The
aged Prior was the first to break the silence, and did so with words
which proved him to be possessed of those fraternal qualities of
heart, which had felt the command, 'Love as brethren, be pitiful, be
courteous.'
'Brethren,' he said, 'our Society is this day dissolved, for I have
no power to resist the Papal Bull; neither can I think of retaining
the keys of the monastery a day longer than the time allotted us,
forty-eight hours. Yet I cannot give up the society of those whom I
have now, for forty-four years, presided over, without one single
word of discord amongst us, without deep sorrow. I came myself from
Britany, and, as you all know, whatever property I possessed was
given to this monastery. We have lived here together in harmony, and
I had hoped we should here have ended our years. I mourn to think
how soon we must be scattered, and have our interest in each other
dissolved; but ye have all heard the mandate. Farewell, ye happy
hours of solitude and devotion! farewell, sharers of our common
fortune, we must be parted! but whither shall we go? You, Robert
Wolfren, where will you journey? You, Francis Wealey, where will you
find abode? You, Thomas Wegg, might have found an asylum in Essex,
but the Monastery of Walton is dissolved. Alan Aleto, farewell!
Michael Milner, it will avail you nothing to go to Dodnesh; Lionel
Foster, we were brothers before we came here, would we could so live
together until we die! But where shall we all go? The world is wide
enough, but it is, to our long habits of confinement, a desolation.
If we must part, let us at least spend our last two days in devotion,
that we may know how to commit ourselves to the waves of the world.
Come, brethren, let us all to the chapel.'
It was then that Lord De Freston spoke:
'I have known you all long years gone by. I forget not your kindness
to the outcast hermit of Holy Wells, nor to your reception of his
bones among you. Ye showed charity to me, also, on that pitiless
night of my superstitious vow and vigil; but, though I see my errors
in those things, the kindness of your fraternity shall not pass
unacknowledged. It is but a short journey over the water to my
walls. In them I have room for you all: and neither shall any want,
though he may be deprived of everything, as long as the Manor of
Freston can support you. Grieve not then, my aged friends, at the
present diversion of your property. Ye shall enjoy the privilege of
each other's society, even though I am not an advocate for monastic
seclusion. Every man should learn to live alone, that he may know
how best to enjoy the society of his fellow-creatures. I will go
with you to your chapel, and consult further with you upon your
future plans.'
The fraternity were as much overcome by this generosity as they had
been by the cruelties of their sudden ejection.
They repaired to their chapel, spent an hour in devotion, and
returned to talk over their miseries, and what they should do.
Allen became as punctual in taking possession as he had been precise
in his declaration of the law, and two days afterwards the monks of
Alneshborne were located in the mansion of Lord De Freston. Theirs
was, however, a merciful lot compared with the fate of hundreds who,
at this time, became deprived of house, home, property, and comforts,
which some had certainly greatly abused in every way, but which
others had conscientiously preserved.
No men were more sensitively alive to the beauties of scenery than
these retired Augustines. It was curious to see them assembled in
the fifth story of Freston Tower, watching the progress of vessels
bringing Caen stone purchased with the property of their own
monastery, to build the College of St. Peters'.
One thing, and a good one, attended the change. The charity of Lord
De Freston did not stop with receiving them into his hall, but he
endeavored, and with some success, to cultivate their minds, and to
bring them to the indulgence of some higher privileges than their
cloistered seclusion had allowed.
He acted the part of a good Samaritan, by pouring into their wounded
minds an oil of such efficacy, that it led to the conversion of more
than the Prior; and their banishment, as they first called it, became
their freedom.
They remained there until, by degrees, they found employment. One
became a teacher in Wolsey's new school; another found a situation
with the Abbots of Bury; a third went to Marseilles, another to
Spain, another to Rome, until they gradually separated. But one,
Prior John, died at Freston. He perfectly recovered from the
infatuation of his early superstition, and for some time became the
enlightened companion of the truly noble lord, who was his friend in
the hour of need.
So perfectly cured was he of his monastic seclusion, that he entirely
dispensed with the external trumpery of his order, and appeared in
Ipswich and its vicinity, under the title of the Reformed Monk. He
was a frequent visitor to Latimer and his wife, in their mansion in
Brook Street: and here he was staying when Bilney preached at St.
George's Chapel. Such an impression did that Reformer make upon this
monk's mind, that Lord Wentworth, who had authority to quell the
growing love of spiritual liberty then conspicuous in Suffolk, had
marked John of Alneshborne, late of the fraternity of Augustines, as
a seditious heretic.
It is probable that, had he lived but a few years longer, he would
have been a sharer in the martyr's trials. He was already a sharer
with his friends, Latimer and De Freston, in the onus then attached
to those who professed to abhor the corruptions of Rome, and desired
to see the Christian people of England emancipated from the slavery
of ignorance. He was often heard to say, that he rejoiced even in
the dissolution of his priory, since it had been instrumental in his
own conversion.
He died one day, as he sat reading the prophet Isaiah, in Freston
Tower. The old man had not complained, though the lord of the castle
had said to him:
'John, you do not look well.'
His reply was singular: 'My soul is too big for my body.'
'How so?' inquired De Freston.
'It is grown so large since I left Alneshborne; and as I sit reading
in this lofty turret, I seem to myself to grow out of myself, and to
expand in love to _all_ men.'
The old man had scarcely said the words before his head fell gently
on the side of his high wooden chair, and thus the Monk of
Alneshborne sighed away his spirit.