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 IBeelmiiister Sblieij; 
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF " WHITEFIlIAJiS," " CESAR BORGIA," «S:c. 
 
 struggling in dark eclipse, and shooting day 
 On either side of the black oib that veiled it ! 
 
 Drydex. 
 
 Quid non potest simuiata religio ? 
 
 Ekasmcs. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 JOHN MORTIMER, 141, STRAND.
 
 
 
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 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; 
 
 Wc^t Baws of ti^e Reformation. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BRETHREN OF JESUS. 
 
 These were the prime, in order and in might. 
 
 Mtlton. 
 
 The doctrines of the German Reformers made 
 ^ but little progress in England until after the 
 * close of the first quarter of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury. The press was as yet but a giant in the 
 cradle, murmuring inarticulate thunder ; and, 
 promulgated in a foreign, or in a learned 
 tongue, the opinions of Luther and his adhe- 
 S rents could have produced but slight effect on 
 -v the illiterate masses of the English people. 
 
 It was the leaven of WiclifFe which, fer- 
 
 ^ menting during a century and a half in the 
 
 popular mind, produced symptoms in our island 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 2 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 that long preceded the volcanic outburst of 
 the Reformation on the Continent, in that 
 age also which it was destined to render for 
 ever memorable in the annals of mankind. Of 
 this glory of precedence we ought not to be 
 deprived by the greatness of the events and 
 personages set in motion by the German revolt, 
 though, like the Gospel itself, the English 
 Reformation commenced among the poor and 
 the lowly. Shoemakers, carpenters, and hus- 
 bandmen, a solitary citizen of London, were 
 the first champions and martyrs in the insur- 
 rection of reason against authority among us 
 years before Luther threw his massive gauntlet 
 at the feet of Rome. But the flames or the 
 pruninghook had apparently destroyed those 
 offshoots of the still stubborn stumps of the 
 ancient innovation, when the new outlandish 
 doctrines struck root where they could be least 
 expected to find congenial soil. About the 
 period mentioned, both the Universities of 
 Oxford and Cambridge fell under suspicion of 
 favouring the opinions of the German Re- 
 formers, and Cambridge in particular. 
 
 In this University a theological party had 
 gradually risen into notice, which excited the 
 animadversion and alarm of the monks and
 
 THE DAYS or THE KEFORMATION. 3 
 
 bigots who formed by far the majority in it. 
 Yet it was chiefly composed of priests and 
 doctors of the Church it was imagined its mem- 
 bers were secretly at work to undermine — men 
 distinguished by their learning and abilities. 
 They fulfilled their clerical offices diligently, 
 complied with all established ceremonial, and 
 were the most zealous and ardent preachers 
 the times had known. But their pulpits re- 
 sounded, like those of Northern Germany, 
 with declamations against abuses they alleged 
 to exist in the Church, and which, indeed, the 
 boldest of its defenders could scarcely venture 
 to deny. They even dared, though in very 
 guarded language, to examine the most received 
 formulas of belief, and finally to impugn what 
 was, at least numerically, the orthodox manner 
 of interpretation. They affected a new style 
 of teaching, no longer appljdng themselves to 
 the subtleties of scholastic disputation, or 
 adopting the writings of the fathers and ancient 
 doctors as the text-books of commentary. The 
 Bible, in all their appeals to authority, took 
 the place which those theologians, the Master 
 of the Sentences, Thomas Aquinas, and others 
 of the ancient schoolmen, held in the dis- 
 courses of their contemporaries. And not
 
 4 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 satisfied, apparently, with the translation of 
 the Scriptures approved by the Church, old as 
 well as young among them applied with great 
 zeal to the study of the original languages in 
 which the sacred writings are couched. This, 
 in conj unction with an admiring research into 
 the lately recovered treasures of classical an- 
 tiquity, was contemptuously denominated the 
 New Learning by the partisans of the ancient 
 order of things. 
 
 It was no marvel that admirers and students 
 of the New Learning should come under ortho- 
 dox suspicion. In the hands of the German 
 Reformers it furnished the most formidable 
 and dazzling of the weapons employed against 
 the champions of the Papacy. It was the un- 
 wearied delight and solicitude of the Voltaire 
 of the 16th century, Erasmus, who barbed and 
 polished his destructive wit in its armouries. 
 It was no sufficient ground for tolerance 
 with the bigoted supporters of the ancient 
 superstitions, that a man w^ho aspired to become 
 the chief of orthodoxy throughout the Christian 
 world warmly encouraged the pursuit. Car- 
 dinal Wolsey, indeed, who, at that time, as 
 legate-a-latere^ was supreme head of the Eng- 
 lish Church, laboured with shortsighted policy
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 5 
 
 to render the New Learning as universal among 
 the champions of the decaying system as 
 among the innovators. Possibly he imagined 
 that moral light could be directed at will, like 
 that of physical nature, by a species of intel- 
 lectual sunglasses, to blind and thwart an ad- 
 versary. But his own orthodoxy had long 
 been held in suspicion by the English clergy, 
 over whom he domineered with more than 
 papal pride and despotism, and for whose per- 
 sons and opinions he scarcely deigned to con- 
 ceal his contempt. He had himself assailed 
 some of their most valuable privileges, and 
 established a fatal precedent in the confiscation 
 of certain minor monastic endowments for the 
 support of the schools he founded at Ipswich 
 and Oxford. 
 
 There were other circumstances of suspicion 
 against the Cambridge doctors, not the least 
 of which might be considered the secrecy and 
 union remarkable among the members of the 
 rising sect. These characteristics, and the ac- 
 cident of their meetings being chiefly held in 
 an apartment belonging to one of their number 
 in the college of the name, procured them — 
 certainly with no intentional compliment — a 
 sneering appellation which they yet joyfully 
 accepted of the " Brethren of Jesus."
 
 6 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 In addition to all these reasons for mistrust, 
 the brethren seemed to regard, in the light of 
 apostle and leader, a man who, for a long 
 period, had been held in opprobrium in the 
 University, as the first who openly avowed con- 
 tempt of their favourite studies, and recom- 
 mended attention to those of their adversaries. 
 This man was Bilney, whose impassioned zeal 
 and final martyrdom have entitled him to a 
 leader's glory in the great struggle, in spite of 
 his faltering resistance — even terrified aban- 
 donment of the field — in the solitary conflict 
 he found himself called upon to sustain with 
 the mighty and organized battalia of the power 
 he ventured to assail. 
 
 About the time our record commences, in 
 the autumn of 1527, Bilney had just returned 
 to Cambridge, after a long imprisonment, a re- 
 cantation, and degrading public exposure in 
 London. These punishments he incurred, it 
 is probable, chiefly by provoking the personal 
 indignation of Wolsey. The English Re- 
 formers had scarcely as yet evinced any doc- 
 trinal or dogmatic revolt ; and in general the 
 Cardinal showed an inclination to remedy the 
 abuses they most vehemently decried. But 
 Bilney' s invectives against the arrogance and
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 7 
 
 vices of the superior clergy were dexterously 
 interpreted by his enemies into audacious 
 assaults on Wolsey himself and his overblown 
 power. Accordingly, the weight of ecclesias- 
 tical vengeance, in the hands of a man who 
 wielded the supreme authority both in Church 
 and State, was directed against the offender. 
 Bilney was summoned before the absolute 
 court established by Wolsey in virtue of his 
 c ommission as Legate, and condemned either 
 to recant his opinions or perish for them at the 
 stake. 
 
 Nature, and the persuasions of friends more 
 anxious for the safety of the Reformer than the 
 assertion of his principles, triumphed over 
 enthusiasm in the soul of Bilney. He yielded 
 to their suggestions and the terrors of his 
 menaced doom. But the furies of antiquity 
 avenged not the blood of Clytemnestra on her 
 son and slayer with more relentless and un- 
 ceasing serpent'thongs than the consciousness 
 of his apostacy tormented Bilney. It drove 
 him finally to court martyrdom, as the only re- 
 demption from the superior agonies of his 
 spirit ; and at the time we allude to, had sent 
 him back to Cambridge, on the verge of insanity 
 with remorse and grief.
 
 8 -WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 It was therefore not without cause that the 
 former associates, and still compassionating 
 and sympathizing friends of Bilney, were re- 
 garded with constantly increasing suspicion 
 and dislike in the University. But the punish- 
 ment and recantation of their leader seemed to 
 produce a great effect in thinning the ranks of 
 the alleged schismatics. Few, indeed, were 
 found faithful among all those who, incited by 
 the love of novelty, or the more exalted thirst 
 for truth, had joined in the mysterious move- 
 ment whose shadowy advance excited so much 
 apprehension. But of these few some, espe- 
 cially one or two of the younger members, 
 rather increased in boldness and energy, as if 
 anxious to diminish the ill effect of their 
 leader's tergiversation. Among these were to 
 be reckoned, in various degrees, a memorable 
 group which assembled after supper and 
 prayers — or even-song as it was called — in the 
 chamber in Jesus College belonging to one of 
 their number, and whence they derived their 
 sobriquet in the University. 
 
 At first the company consisted only of three 
 persons, one of whom was the owner of the 
 apartment. He was a Doctor of Divinity and 
 Fellow of the College, whose name had long
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BEFORMATION. \) 
 
 been in ill odour among the monastic autho- 
 rities of Cambridge, not only for the supposed 
 tendency of his opinions, but for certain cir- 
 cumstances of his early career. ^Vhile study- 
 ing theology with the view of entering a 
 Church in which celibacy is one of the first 
 obligations, Thomas Cranmer turned aside in 
 a progress that excited the hopes of his supe- 
 riors, to wed a beautiful girl, to whom he was 
 fondly attached. He had attained a fellowship 
 in his college, and a high reputation for learn- 
 ing and ability, was regarded with satisfaction 
 and pride by his monastic patrons as a rein- 
 forcement of value to their now dangerously 
 assaulted cause, when this untoward event 
 deprived them of the instrument they thought 
 secured. 
 
 The untimely death of his wife enabled 
 Cranmer to return to his original dedication ; 
 but great obstacles and disadvantages awaited 
 him on his regained path, in consequence of 
 his brief wandering from it. These circum- 
 stances had doubtless their influence in 
 directing his early attention to the doctrines 
 of the Reformation, and in sustaining the per- 
 severance with which at a later period he fol- 
 lowed out their momentous consequences. But
 
 10 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 the sorrows and mortifications of his youth had 
 set their stamp, not only on his grave and sad- 
 dened countenance, but in his character ; and 
 something of the wavering and indecision mis- 
 fortune infuses into her victims might be ob- 
 served in Cranmer's look and manner, as 
 afterwards in the bending lines of his oblique 
 but ever-advancing career. Though one of 
 the most learned of the new religionists, 
 Cranmer had as yet exhibited so little daring 
 or enthusiasm in spreading the convictions he 
 doubtless entertained even in that early phase 
 of the Reformation, that Bilney often called 
 ^lim in playful chiding, the Dark Lantern. 
 But educated like all the other founders of the 
 Anglican Church, in the very bosom of the 
 ancient superstitions, Cranmer was also too 
 deeply imbued with the opinions and prejudices 
 inculcated thereby to advance with rapid or 
 extensive strides. He walked in chains. Few 
 in fact of the English Reformers for a long 
 period later, thought of assailing the funda- 
 mental doctrines of the Roman Church, still 
 less of raising a new structure on its ruins 
 with the sound materials of the demolition. 
 Their projects as well as attacks seemed con- 
 fined to the abuses that existed glaringly in the
 
 THE DAYS OF THE HEFORMATION. 11 
 
 practical and administrative forms of the eccle- 
 siastical polity. 
 
 Cranmer was now in the sobered years of 
 middle life ; and of his two companions one 
 was older, the other younger, than himself, by 
 at least fifteen years respectively. The olde st 
 was certainly the most cheerful and lively- 
 looking of the party; and though he had 
 passed his grand climacteric, few signs of 
 decay darkened the lustre of his vigorous old 
 age. His hair and pointed beard were indeed 
 grizzled by time ; but the bright expression of 
 his countenance, the hale colour on his cheeks, 
 the humour and vivacity in his glance, bore 
 witness that the youth of the soul had sur- 
 vived that of the body. Sir Hugh Latimer, 
 as he was styled in the usual clerical form of 
 respect, was one of Bilney's earliest converts, 
 but was previously renowned in the University 
 for his fanatic adherence to the old doctrines. 
 So conspicuous had this partisanship rendered 
 him, that he was appointed cross-bearer to the 
 University — an office esteemed one of peculiar 
 honour and religious distinction. But in latter 
 times Latimer had turned all the power of his 
 sarcastic wit, of his plenteous and popular- 
 toned eloquence, to ridicule the superstitions
 
 12 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 he was once the most earnest to promulge and 
 glorify. 
 
 Nicholas Ridley, as yet a young man and a 
 raw student, with the rough accent, and the 
 open and determined character of the north 
 of England stamped strongly in his features 
 and speech as a blacksmith's designs in his 
 stern metals, formed the third in the group 
 assembled in an apartment which might have 
 contented the austerity of a Carthusian. A 
 plain iron lamp hung from the ceiling and 
 dimly illumined the recesses of a large low 
 chamber, whose deep-set lattices looked into a 
 desolate cloister, once belonging to a nunnery, 
 which Jesus College had originally been. A 
 press, containing books and manuscripts re- 
 ligiously stored, a desk, a few high-backed 
 wooden stools, and a truckle bed in a corner, 
 comprised the entire inventory of the furniture 
 of the future Primate of England. 
 
 More visitors were expected, for Latimer 
 observed with a smile, as he took the seat 
 offered him by Ridley, " Set another for 
 Bilney, Nicholas, or the poor man will place 
 himself, like a beguiled grandame, topsy-turvy ! 
 Alack, he is even so clean distraught and wo- 
 begone with his apostacy, as he calleth it
 
 THE DA.YS OF THE REFORMATION. 13 
 
 — (alack, alack, and how truly calleth it !) — 
 that I love to make preparation for him as' an I 
 were sure to see him again — which sometimes I 
 misdoubt, for he is liker to lay evil hands on 
 himself than ever he was to escape the purple 
 dragon of Westminster's blasting folds !" 
 
 " He rails on himself, indeed, until it is nigh 
 past patience to listen to him, for why died he 
 not rather to avoid offence than to expiate it?" 
 said Ridley, in those resolute tones that quailed 
 not from amidst the enveloping flames of the 
 future pile at Oxford. " Not to him, indeed, 
 would I say the word, which truly were to 
 throw waters on a drowned man ; but apostacy 
 — vile apostacy it was — to recant and bear the 
 faggot, as he did, before the multitude, at 
 Paul's Cross." 
 
 " Alas, brother, how know we how ourselves 
 might pass through that red ordeal — that fiery 
 furnace of terror, heated by the Cardinal for 
 Bilney?" said Cranmer, with a visible shudder ; 
 adding, after a moment's uneasy silence, 
 '* But where is our brother, and my too rash 
 pupil, Raphael Roodspere ? He should have 
 been here long ago by his promise, if that be 
 St. John's ringing out complins ! " 
 
 " Thou art even as a clocking hen, brother 
 Thomas, that hath hatched a brood of ducklings, 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 14 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 regarding that good youth I Fie, what a terror 
 art thou in to see thy birds take water," said 
 Latimer. " But, indeed, I was glad he was 
 not with us at commons. It was at him, with- 
 out doubt, the bull-headed black friar butted 
 all the while from the reading-desk. Heard 
 ye not how he railed, and said the devil had 
 come among us worse now in the speeches of 
 divers sophistical sermonisers who devote them- 
 selves to assaults on monkeries and friaries, 
 well knowing them to be the main pillars, walls, 
 buttresses, and I wot not all what supports 
 besides, to the church founded on — sands." 
 
 " I heard the bawling rogue. They are 
 doing what they can to draw the Cardinal's 
 frowns upon him, but his own rashness much 
 more," said Cranmer, with a deep sigh. 
 
 " Yet if what men say be true, that he is as 
 nigh akin to the Cardinal in blood as he is 
 alien to him in all other matters, they cannot 
 place him in such jeopardy as they belike de- 
 sire," observed Ridley. 
 
 " But is it true ? Himself doth never so 
 assert, but rather eschews all mention and 
 allusion to any parentage between him and the 
 Cardinal, ascribing the protection he receives 
 merely to his grace's favourable opinion of his 
 capacity, and desire to plenish his schools
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFORMATION. 15 
 
 with scholars of the new learning," replied 
 Cranmer. 
 
 " It is certain Raphael was born at Lyming- 
 ton, in Somersetshire, where the Cardinal, being 
 young, was so jolly a vicar that Sir Amias 
 Paulet saw fit to lay him by the heels in the 
 stocks," said Latimer. "And Stephen Gar- 
 diner, his grace's secretary, came thus far ger- 
 mane to the matter once with me as to aver 
 that Raphael's mother was never married, but 
 that yet he marvelled he should keep his pa- 
 rentage so hidden and dark, seeing that he 
 himself was not ashamed of his, being Bishop 
 Woodville's bastard." 
 
 " But what special favour hath the Cardinal 
 ever shown to Roodspere to mark a relation- 
 ship so near and natural, though forbidden and 
 uncanonical ? " said Ridley. "You have oft 
 told me, father Latimer, what an unkempt rus- 
 tic he came among ye, with such rudiments of 
 learning only acquired as a poor parish clerk 
 could give a village schoolboy. His allowance 
 has been as scanty as a yeoman's second son's 
 at our starved St. Bee's in the north ; and so 
 far from exhibiting a special kindness and pro- 
 tection towards the young man, who so well 
 deserves the best reward the Cardinal hath in 
 gift, ye all remember how, when his grace
 
 16 westminsteH abbey; oe, 
 
 came to make his visitation in Cambridge, 
 Raphael was removed, on some strange pretext, 
 out of his sight and presence all the time of 
 his abode ameng us." 
 
 " Why, it was strange, indeed ! But they 
 say the Cardinal cannot bear the sight or recol- 
 lection of aught that reminds him of his poorer 
 estate," said Latimer. " Yet did we not all 
 as potently observe how afterwards Bishop 
 Longland seemed to have no other business in 
 Cambridge but to admit Roodspere to the 
 priesthood, yet came by special commission 
 from his patron and lord, the Cardinal ?" 
 
 " How the truth may be in this matter is, 
 belike, hard to say ; but, certes, it is strange 
 Raphael comes not hither now!'* said Cran- 
 mer, with visible anxiety. " He has kept close 
 chamber these two days, it is true ; but he 
 prayed me very earnestly to bring ye all to- 
 gether this eventide, that he might consult with 
 us on a point of special difficulty and moment." 
 " Is it some scriptural doubt ? " said Latimer, 
 *' But, nay, smile not. Master Ridley ! I wot 
 as well as thou, that though of the youngest 
 among us, he hath the clearest lamp of learning 
 and inward grace to guide his conclusions of 
 us all ; but his modesty equals his merit, and
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 17 
 
 he knows not in what estimation to hold his 
 proper judgment." 
 
 " He prayed me not to question the where- 
 fore until we met, and I forbore," said Cranmer. 
 " Yet it troubles me to remember how strangely 
 joy and sadness were mingled in his looks as he 
 spoke — even as in a soldier's whose chief has 
 chosen him on some glorious but perilous en- 
 terprise. My soul misgives me that this young 
 David, whom I love as dearly as 1 might a 
 carnal son, will be summoned the next among 
 us to bear witness to God's truth before men !" 
 
 " He will not melt in the furnace as Bilney 
 did!" said Ridley. ** He, alone, hath dared 
 openly, since the recantation, to confront the 
 giant — to cast stones from the slings of the 
 Gospel at the Goliath of Rome ! and he is the 
 first, methinks, since Wicliffe, that hath ever 
 dared to tell the monks to their faces that 
 men's works are of no avail — that the blood of 
 our blessed Lord, shed on the holy rood, is a 
 sufficient redemption of all mankind, needing 
 no aid from them and their prayers and fast- 
 ings, and heathen mummeries !" 
 
 " It is a doctrine that levels, as mth a bat- 
 tering-ram, the foundations whereon the monks 
 have built their houses of sin and superstition," 
 said Latimer. " But, indeed, if even the good
 
 18 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK. 
 
 works and macerations of men could win that 
 grace to souls which is of God's free gift only, 
 the pampered carles have none to market their 
 doting chapmen withal ! They are rich in 
 grease, not in grace ! " 
 
 " Speak not so loudly, brother Hugh ! Re- 
 m-ember we are vehementer suspecti ! " said 
 Cranmer, looking timorously around, as if he 
 thought the very walls could hear. 
 
 *' Bokenham hath long lugs, but they will 
 scarcely reach from St. John's hither,*' said 
 Latimer, with a smile. " Methinks, Thomas, 
 you do hold us all in with too tight a rein ; but 
 at least you should not let this young soldier 
 press so far before us in the onset." 
 
 " I cannot bridle him as I would ; his rash 
 zeal obeys not captaincy," replied Cranmer. 
 " But against the monks, he will have it, there 
 is the less danger to appear in arms, that Wol- 
 sey himself encourages attacks on the monastic 
 orders. I do hear how their laziness, pride, 
 ignorance, and wallowing luxury are favourite 
 topics of railing in the Cardinal's court. He 
 cherishes Erasmus, who, ye well wot, makes 
 them the eternal food of his laughter, that 
 sears like the edge of lightning ! He hath 
 done what no King of England ever yet has 
 dared to do against them since Edgar and
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REEORMATfON; 19 
 
 Dunstan made them lords of half the land . 
 
 cutting large slivers from their inheritance of 
 fools' endowments, and traducing the same to 
 his own purposes." 
 
 " The Cardinal only nets the small fry— he 
 is one of the great fishes himself — he is Abbot 
 of St. Alban's," said Latimer. 
 
 " Truly ! and I can in nowise shake this 
 evil boding from my spirits," said Crannaer. 
 " My nose bled thrice to-day, and the raven 
 they call the Black Abbess alighted on the 
 ivy of my lattice this morn, and would not be 
 frighted away ! " 
 
 The influence of superstition, even on the 
 most powerful minds of the age, was as yet 
 but little diminished by the spread of spiritual 
 sunlight. The disastrous aspect of the times 
 made men of the new persuasion more pecu- 
 liarly open to sinister auguries ; and the per- 
 son associated with Cranmer's doleful antici- 
 pations was so greatly beloved and honoured 
 among his co-religionists, that it is no wonder 
 the prospect of danger to him shadowed their 
 minds with gloom. 
 
 The Brethren continued to dwell for some 
 time with anxiety on the topic of Raphael 
 Roodspere's prolonged absence, until at last 
 the feeling on this score arose to a degree of
 
 20 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 apprehension, and Ridley announced his deter- 
 mination to go and seek him in his cell. He 
 was about to depart, with the general assent, 
 on this mission, when footsteps were heard, 
 and the subject of anxiety made his appear- 
 ance, with another also well known to all 
 present.
 
 THE PAYS OF THE KEFOKMA.TION. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 RAPHAEL KOODSPERE. 
 
 As bright as does the morning star appear, 
 Out of the East, with flaming locks bedight, 
 
 To tell the dawning day is drawing near, 
 And to the world does bring long wished-for light. 
 
 Spensbb. 
 
 The person so anxiously expected, who bore 
 the name of Raphael Roodspere, was a young 
 man about five or six and twenty, tall in stature, 
 and remarkably well formed, with a counte- 
 nance so finely carved in all its lineaments, 
 that but for its cast of studious and even 
 melancholy gravity and paleness, it might have 
 been thought he had received his name from a 
 popular identification of his characteristics with 
 those of his namesake, the gracious archangel 
 that guided Tobias. This fanciful resemblance 
 was increased by the purity and almost 
 womanly fairness of his complexion, which 
 only occasionally flushing with the colours of 
 a glowing blood, still attested it was rather
 
 22 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 strength of moral principle, and habits of self 
 control, than any lack of the fire and energy of 
 youth which rendered him the fit disciple and 
 companion of the grave and religious men 
 with whom he habitually consorted. There 
 was an expression of sweetness and tenderness 
 mingled with the profound thoughtfulness in 
 the gaze of his deep blue eyes that added to 
 the efi"ect of his spiritual and noble physi- 
 ognomy, in enforcing the similitude indicated 
 above, on the imagination. But it was greatly 
 heightened by the circumstance that his long 
 golden-brown locks were marked with a kind 
 of glory by the ring of an almost effaced ton- 
 sure of priesthood, which he seemed to have 
 received in very early youth, and to have taken 
 little pains to preserve. His dress was that 
 of an inferior student, or sizer, of the Univer- 
 sity, and was not remarkable in that age among 
 the class to which he apparently belonged for 
 being much worn, and, indeed, guilty of the 
 premeditated poverty of patches in several 
 places. 
 
 The person by whom he was accompanied, 
 or rather whom he led in, was almost the 
 reverse in external attributes. He was a 
 middle-aged man, of a small figure, and of a 
 dark complexion, whose general appearance.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 23 
 
 far from inspiring a confidence akin to affec- 
 tion, at a glance, struck the fear an ancient 
 demoniac might have roused in the beholder, 
 suddenly starting from a place of tombs. And 
 in truth, a frenzy of religious despair possessed 
 the soul of the unhappy Bilney, which might 
 well be likened to the sufi'erings inflicted by 
 the devils of the raging Gergesenes. His look 
 was so singularly wild, ghastly, and pallid ; 
 so glaring at the eyes with the unsettled flame 
 of his distracted thoughts, that his physiog- 
 nomy bore some fearful resemblance to a 
 burning limekiln at nightfall. He entered 
 without any salutation but a bewildered stare 
 round the assembled group, who all proff'ered 
 him their hands -with the zeal of fear as well 
 as of affection. But he shook his head, and 
 muttering hoarsely, " In God's name, no, lest 
 I taint ye with worse than the black sweat of 
 the sickness ! " he covered his face with his 
 hands, and sobbed in a dry paroxysm of an- 
 guish. All present then remarked that both 
 Bilney and his young disciple's clothes were 
 covered with mud, and torn with briars. "See 
 ye, brother ? " whispered Latimer to Cranmer. 
 *' Now as ever, while we were talking, Rood- 
 spere was doing. Doubtless he hath been
 
 24 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 busied saving Bilney from the demon of his 
 own despair !" 
 
 " You tainted us somewhat of old, indeed, 
 brother," began Cranmer, compassionately, 
 but as cheerily as he could assume in tone, 
 " with your love and search for the truth, your 
 deep learning, and other your inestimable 
 virtuous qualities ; but why should you now 
 fear — " Then, perceiving how his well-meant 
 consolation would run aground, he paused. 
 
 " Nay, nay, I do not fear to make any of ye 
 the sharers of mine iniquity. There was but 
 one Judas among the disciples of our Lord !" 
 groaned Bilney, taking the proffered hand with 
 a ghastly smile, but letting it fall from his 
 despairing and lifeless pressure. 
 
 " In no wise dost thou resemble the red- 
 haired Iscariot, Bilney," said Latimer, smooth - 
 ening his friend's black locks from his forehead, 
 where they himg in damp clusters, like oozy 
 weeds. 
 
 " Why, it is true, I have not sold my Saviour 
 for thirty pieces of silver, but for as many 
 days of worthless life, I have, I have! " gasped 
 Bilney. " Why will ye not then let me imitate 
 the rest of mine example, and do as Judas did.^ 
 There are quivering aspens enow in the marshes 
 yonder that have never forgotten how he hung
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATIOX. 25 
 
 his accursed weight among their boughs. I 
 had no purpose to blast another tree." 
 
 *'Nay, father, there is holier example for 
 you to follow, even blessed Peter's, whom you 
 more resemble, that turned away his face and 
 wept — no saltier tears than these, for, God be 
 praised, he weeps ! " said Roodspere, in tones 
 of deep, winning melody, like the flute-notes of 
 an organ in their mellow sobriety and rich 
 religious harmony. " Yet Peter lived to build 
 the Church of Christ as you, father, shall live 
 to rebuild it from its ruins !" 
 
 " But Christ never cast Peter into despair 
 with the certainty of his rejection — never per- 
 mitted the demon to lead him into a marshy 
 place, among thorns and briars, to be his own 
 executioner that dared not die for His sake, by 
 others' hands !" ejaculated Bilney. 
 
 " But did not God send an angel to save 
 you, an archangel, brother, even Raphael 
 himself ? " said Latimer, ascertaining with 
 profound grief, in spite of the jocular tone of 
 his reply, that his interpretation of the stained 
 and rent appearance of the self-condemned 
 teacher and his saving disciple was correct. 
 
 " Let us not reason with this mood — as wel 
 with the storm-vexed sea," said Roodspere, in 
 a low tone. " But remember, brethren, I 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 26 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 leave ye the care of this our common father in 
 spirituality as the only valuable legacy I have 
 to make — for I am come to bid ye all farewell. 
 I am summoned to London — to the presence 
 of the Cardinal !" 
 
 A dead silence of surprise and fear followed 
 this announcement, though it was made with 
 little apparent sign of emotion, and the 
 brethren gazed at one another in mute dismay 
 for some moments. Cranmer was the first 
 who spoke. " The raven lied not ! " he 
 exclaimed. " Said I not that some heavy evil 
 hung over us ? And the heaviest that can 
 befal is come. But thou shalt not go alone to 
 destruction, my son ! I will with thee, and share 
 thy doom, whatever it be." 
 
 " Nay, sir, I must go, and go alone," replied 
 Roodspere. " So runs the order which I must 
 obey; nor would I for a kingdom's ransom that 
 any of you should share a risk I can meet alone. 
 But I deem not I am summoned to encounter 
 danger, though wherefore else I cannot well 
 divine. Certain only it is, I am commanded 
 to render myself to the Lord Legate's presence 
 within three days of notice given, whereof a 
 day and a night have elapsed." 
 
 " For what but evil can any of us be sum- 
 moned to Wolsey's presence, son ? " said
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATION. 27 
 
 Cranmer. " God pardon thee, Bilney ; but 
 mucli I fear thy terrors have betrayed us also, 
 thy fellow labourers in the vineyard, to the 
 murtherous usurpers thereof." 
 
 " God pardon thee thine uncharity, Thomas ; 
 but of this betrayal, by Him I have alone 
 betrayed, I am innocent!" exclaimed Bilney, 
 whose attention had been gradually awakened 
 from a kind of stupor into which he sunk after 
 his paroxysm of mental anguish. 
 
 " Most wholly do I believe in thine inno- 
 cence, dear father," said Roodspere, tenderly. 
 " Neither was my summons brought me by a 
 stern apparitor, but comes in a civilly-worded 
 letter from the Cardinal's new secretary. Master 
 Cromwel. Ye shall hear and judge." 
 
 He produced an epistle as he spoke, duly 
 sealed in lead, with the Cardinal Legate's arms 
 and hat surmounting the emblematic keys. 
 Cranmer took it with that hand quivering 
 which was afterwards held firmly as marble in 
 the flames, and read it aloud :— 
 
 " Master Raphael Roodspere, young but 
 most learned doctor in divinis Uteris : my 
 hearty commendations prefaced to your ripe 
 capacity and scholarship, these are to require 
 you, in my Lord Legate his Grace's name, to 
 render yourself to his presence, apud West-
 
 28 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 monasterium, Avith no more delay than a bride- 
 groom would willingly put between his wedding 
 and his bedding ; or, at the utmost, three days 
 and as many nights. Herein fail not ! I say 
 not on peril of your body, but of the loss of 
 as much good fortune and fair hope of advance- 
 ment as other men lose long lives in sighing 
 for in vain. In this assurance ye may place 
 entire faith, taking no misgiving, and uttering 
 none, in any matter connected with the raving 
 monks of your country, whose bad Latin my 
 lord nothing heeds. In token whereof, this 
 same messenger bears them peremptory pre- 
 cept to grant you, on your immediate request, 
 the grace of a doctor's degree, so long overdue, 
 though denied by their malice and envy to 
 your merits. Written in haste, but in all good 
 will, by the hand of your assured friend and 
 joyful welcomer, 
 
 " Thomas Ceomwel, 
 
 *' Secretary of Laws to the Cardinal's 
 
 "Grace of York." 
 
 " What are we to deem of this ? It is sweet 
 to the ear, but so is the fowler's lure," said 
 Cranmer. 
 
 " Truly, I rather fear some temptation than 
 violent assault of the fiend, for look what 
 follows in a jpostscriptum most earnestly starred.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KErORMATION. 29 
 
 and seeming as if penned after other eyes had 
 perused the main charge," replied Roodspere. 
 
 Cranmer lifted the paper again, and observed 
 that in his agitation he had omitted a remark- 
 able addition to the above rescript. 
 
 *^\^Specialiter notal Master scholar, on your 
 arrival make repair to York Place and demand, 
 firstly and privily, to see me, who, for certain 
 causes of weight and moment, importing your 
 welfare most nearly, but only to be delivered 
 tonguewise, would have private speech with 
 you ere you enter the Lord Cardinal's presence. 
 Ask for me of one Master Cavendish, a civil- 
 spoken gentleman, usher to his grace. From 
 the same Thomas, with the like additions. 
 
 "What may this mean, of all mercies?" 
 said Cranmer. 
 
 " I know not ; unless the winds of God 
 have borne the good seed into seemingly inac- 
 cessible places. And, indeed, from what the 
 black cattle bellow here against him. Master 
 Cromwel may be in something a favourer 
 of the Gospel," said Roodspere ; but the 
 blood rose in his face at the same time as if 
 he were conscious of another and less satis- 
 factory explanation. 
 
 ** Nay, Raphael, they do but hate him be- 
 cause it is he who hath had mainly to do 
 
 d2
 
 30 , WESTMINSIEE ABBEY ; OE, ": 
 
 with the execution of the bulls suppressing 
 the cells and monasteries of whose ruins are 
 built proud Cardinal College, at Oxford, and 
 Ipswich school," said Cranmer. 
 
 " Cromwel a favourer of the gospel !" inter- 
 rupted Bilney, at this moment, raising his head 
 with a look of renewed wildness. " His 
 gospel is but his own self-interest, and none 
 need trust to be holpen of him who do not in 
 some manDer advance his, or his Anti-Christ 
 master's, convenience and will !" 
 
 " It may yet be he desires to do me some 
 good, seeing how I love the monks as little 
 as he doth," said Roodspere. " At all events, 
 to give me warning in case I am sought to my 
 danger ; whereupon I can pass the seas into 
 Germany. But be it for good or ill I must to 
 the Cardinal's presence, in his palace of York 
 Place, without further delay." 
 
 "Were it not wiselier done, remembering 
 how rashly you have spoken out, to pass 
 from among us at once to Hull, and take 
 shipping thence to Antwerp ?" said Cranmer. 
 " Our brethren there will most joyfully wel- 
 come you, and specially Tindal, who needs 
 Greek scholarship so much to assist him in 
 his blessed work of the Novum Testamentum 
 translation."
 
 THE DAYS OF THE HEFOEMATIOX. 31 
 
 "No, father, my work is set for me in 
 England, and I have taken earnest-penny of 
 the Lord in the joy and tranquillity my soul 
 has attained in the thought that, at a distance 
 from among ye, whatever I do may be done 
 without fear of harming others whose safety 
 should be, and is, dearer to me than mine own," 
 said Roodspere, enthusiasm kindling like light 
 all over his fine face. " Yet, certes, favour 
 seems rather meant me, for hardly had I 
 finished perusal of the secretary's missive, ere 
 Doctor Bokenham steps into my chamber — he 
 that was hottest to deny it me — to say that the 
 Cardinal having been pleased to order a grace 
 of doctor to be conferred on me, a convo- 
 cation would be held to-morrow for the 
 purpose." 
 
 " Mayhap then his grace holds that his 
 purpose in sending Master Roodspere among 
 us, as his chosen scholar, to acquire the new 
 learning, is come to a ripeness, and that this 
 goodly young tree of knowledge, which already 
 overbranches the elder growth of the forest, 
 may be transferred to his unfurnished closures 
 at loswich and Oxford, and bear fruitage to the 
 planter's honour there," said Latimer, with an 
 efi'usion of the constitutional cheerfulness he
 
 32 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 had now rallied tliat revived the spirits of the 
 entire company. 
 
 " Truly, our brother, whom I am proud to 
 call my master in such science as my rude 
 north wit could yield harvest on, is well known 
 to more than the envious monks here who deny 
 him his due honours thereupon, to be a very 
 bee of Hybla in the Greek, a rose of Sharon in 
 the Hebrew !" said Ridley, with honest warmth. 
 
 *' You give, indeed, like a brother, Nicholas, 
 without stint or measure," said Roodspere, 
 with an affectionate but somewhat melancholy 
 smile. 
 
 " But what if thou art summoned as Bilney 
 was, to be examined on points of belief, or to 
 be set to use thy rare gifts of eloquence, and 
 skill in the dialectic, against us?" said Cranmer, 
 uneasily. 
 
 *' Greek and Hebrew, if the Cardinal require 
 me to teach, or whatever little knowledge I 
 possess, I will gladly obey him therein — for all 
 the paths of light lead to the sun !" said Rood- 
 spere, with a sublime upward glance. " But 
 if he would have me teach what in my soul I 
 hold to be doctrines of Anti-Christ, I will tell 
 him fearlessly, my conscience will not suffer it, 
 and abide patiently what follows." 
 
 *' Nay, my son, there is no need of such rash
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOBMATIOX. 33 
 
 candour," said Cranmer, tremulously laying 
 his hand on the young man's arm. " Cleave 
 thou to the rock of the help of God, and 
 commit the end of all things to Him ! But if 
 God should call you so as that you may use 
 the wisdom of the world to His honour, even 
 as far as you may perceive the glory of God to 
 come thereof, refuse not your own advance- 
 ment ! " 
 
 The ingenuous countenance of Roodspere 
 showed some shadow of displeasure, but more 
 of sorrow, as this temporizing counsel fell from 
 lips so honoured. But it excited the wrath of 
 Bilney. His eyes shone up with a fearful 
 light, his lips frothed, and his features became 
 convulsed with agitation. 
 
 " Ha, Thomas, false Thomas ! " he exclaimed,. 
 '' wouldst thou set the undying worm in his 
 soul also ? Wouldst thou make him even as 
 thyself art — a river running into the sea, that 
 is neither fresh nor salt !" 
 
 " But, brother Bilney, thou knowest there 
 are necessary outward compliances which—" 
 began Cranmer, but the frenzied zealot again 
 interrupted him. 
 
 " Necessary outward compliances, a burning 
 of incense before the altars of the false gods ! " 
 be shouted. " Nay, if thou sheddest but one
 
 34 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 seed of frankincense into the flames, as well 
 kneel down and worship Jupiter and Baal at 
 once !" 
 
 *' Behold then how freely thou sendest him 
 to the doom thyself didst fear to meet, didst 
 shun by the vile apostacy whose badge is upon 
 thine arm ! " exclaimed Cranmer, carried away 
 by his afiection and fears for his young dis- 
 ciple, and pointing to the painting of a faggot 
 which those who recanted were forced ever 
 after to carry on their go^vnsleeves. He re- 
 pented almost as he spoke the words, and broke 
 ofi" in entreaties to Bilney to forgive the rash 
 expression he had used. 
 
 But the word apostacy ^ though often applied 
 by Bilney to his own conduct, struck him, from 
 the lips of another, with the effect of a heavy 
 physical blow. He gave a convulsive start 
 and leaped on his feet, turned lividly pale, and 
 muttering some incoherent, gurgling sounds, 
 essayed staggeringly to grope his way to the 
 door. 
 
 " I have deserved this punishment, O Lord 
 God ! yea, and a thousandfold worse. Let me 
 remove my reproach from among them, for I 
 am as a rotten sheep among the sound !" they 
 comprehended that he thus brokenly ejaculated, 
 and then he turned with a kind of fury upon
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 35 
 
 Roodspere. " Ho, archangel ! " he exclaimed, 
 " why didst thou clutch me back when the 
 dark gulf had so nigh swallowed me, when the 
 devil's pools in yonder marsh had nigh sucked 
 me down ; when the ravens had sharpened 
 their beaks to make a banquet of mine eyes ? 
 Thou hast cheated them and the field, but not 
 for long I" 
 
 " Tarry, master, dearest master, for as such 
 I have ever owned you and will — " said Cran- 
 mer, rising in great alarm. " Stay him, 
 Raphael, and let me crave for pardon on my 
 knees." 
 
 " Good father, leave us not thus — tarry 
 awhile — but a moment ! Didst thou not pro- 
 mise me to be patient henceforth, and bear the 
 faggot in humble imitation of Him who bore 
 the cross ? " said Roodspere, interposing be- 
 tween the desperate theologian and the door. 
 " Ah, thou wert wont to call me thy truest 
 disciple, and now, when I need my master's 
 aid and counsel most, will he desert me ? " 
 
 *' Oh, but apostate I" ejaculated Bilney, 
 scarcely heeding what was said, and yet 
 pausing. " But what of one man's voice ? 
 It is written everywhere ! — on the walls of the 
 churches, on the green bosom of the earth, on 
 the sunniest skies of heaven! Anon, and I
 
 36 WESTMINSTEB ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 shall read it in a fiery rune on the black pave- 
 ments of hell ! Let me depart whither the 
 voice calls me — into the silence of darkness !" 
 
 " Now only, but most vehemently, deniest 
 thou Christ, refusing pardon to thy brother!" 
 said Roodspere, perceiving that the most ener- 
 getic expressions were necessary to arrest the 
 maddening thoughts of Bilney. 
 
 " Brother Bilney, by our old brotherhood, I 
 beseech thee, forgive me !" said Cranmer. 
 " Lo, at thy command I yield my son, the son 
 of my soul, to destruction ! Scarcely have my 
 presence and counsels saved him ; and if he 
 goes alone to London, he goes to martyrdom ! 
 Yet speak the word, and go alone he shall !" 
 
 " Nay, for I will arise and gird my loins and 
 go with him ! / have taught him his faith — 
 he shall teach me how to die constantly for it !" 
 said Bilney, changing to another mood of 
 delirium, his features elate and shining with 
 triumph. " Son, are you ready, for, lo, I am !" 
 
 " It w^ere his certain ruin ! Why thirst ye 
 for the blood of the youth ?" said Cranmer, 
 weeping with mingled grief and anger. " But 
 if thou goest, Bilney, so will I ! Madness shall 
 not alone be his counsellor !" 
 
 " Nay, fathers, learn then wherefore I fear 
 not that any personal ill is meant me — wherefore
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 37 
 
 your presences and aid were likelier to do me 
 harm than good !" said Roodspere, his brows 
 mantling with a deep blush, and an inexpres- 
 sible sadness shadowing his whole expression. 
 " Wolsey's blood flows in my veins ! — and this 
 is my unhappy mother's that burns in my fore- 
 head to avow it ! God knows, I make no boast 
 of the unlawful relationship that is between us ; 
 and fain would I have forgotten it as wholly as 
 it hath long seemed himself had. But when 
 I heard of Bilney's extreme danger, and be- 
 thought me of the great promises of favour 
 and kindness made to me of yore by the Car- 
 dinal, I foolishly imagined my solicitation in 
 his behalf might do him service. I ventured 
 to remind his grace of those unsatisfied as- 
 surances, craving the transference of what 
 benevolence they engaged to me, to the re- 
 demption of our persecuted father. I fear me 
 my entreaties did but little service where I 
 desired most, but the knowledge on what 
 grounds I hazarded them at all, should satisfy 
 ye the Cardinal cannot mean me any bodily 
 hurt !" 
 
 There was a silence of very great embarrass- 
 ment among the brethren for several moments 
 — not unmingled perhaps with some feeling of 
 alarm. Whatever opinions were formed, or 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 38 
 
 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY; OE, 
 
 rumours were rife, concerning the connexion 
 between the young scholar of Jesus and his 
 mighty patron, the confirmation now given 
 very naturally affected persons, who had so 
 much reason to dread the Legate's observation, 
 with vague sentiments of apprehension. It 
 neded no great sagacity to discern the nature 
 of the emotion which appeared in strong 
 colouring on their countenances ; and Rood- 
 spere was possessed of the intuitive divination 
 that warmly sympathetic natures exercise even 
 in their own despite, and to their own suffering 
 and sorrow. 
 
 " Nay," he continued, with vehemence. 
 " Nay, father Latimer ! — dear brethren, all ! — 
 ye cannot deem that I would betray ye, for any 
 love or for any fear ! But if I had so Judas a 
 will, how might I, without giving myself up 
 to judgment at the same time, who, by all wit- 
 nessing, have transcended far the limits 
 whereto the most part of us have confined our 
 plaints and investigations ? If this fear might 
 not be my restraint, so little cause have I to 
 love the Cardinal, that surely shall never draw 
 me on to any treason against those whom I 
 hold, and have ever held, to be my true father 
 and brethren only, in the communion of 
 Christ !"
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION, 39 
 
 *' Not love the Cardinal, being, as you avow, 
 your natural sire — > so loving and tenderly 
 affectioned as we have all ever known you, 
 Raphael?" murmured Cranmer. 
 
 " If I owe him existence, it was at the price 
 of a mother's jlishonour ! — of years of dis- 
 grace and contumely to myself! I owe him 
 only besides a reluctant and unkindly recog- 
 nition, at best, of claims which even the wolf 
 and raven admit to their young !" replied 
 Roodspere. " But hear my story, and then ye 
 may better judge what natural allegiance I
 
 40 WESTMINSTEE ABBET J OB, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 
 
 Behold ! the hour is at hand. 
 
 Matt. xxvi. 
 
 " Ye all know," continued Roodspere, after a 
 brief but emphatic hesitation, " that ere the 
 Cardinal rose to his now glorious heights, he 
 was for a period incumbent of a poor benefice 
 in the west — Lymington, in Somersetshire — 
 where I was born. My mother was a young 
 girl of the village, daughter to the chief fal- 
 coner of Sir Amias Paulet, of Hinton St. 
 George, an ancient knight of great lineage, 
 renowned for his doings in the late wars, and 
 of unmatched sway and possessions in those 
 parts. My grandfather was a man of sternly 
 upright and religious demeanour ; something, 
 I have since thought, imbued with the opinions 
 which WiclifFe diffused of old among us, and 
 Martin Luther has in our days broached anew, 
 chiefly in what regards the vicious living and 
 evil example of the clergy. On these points
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFORMATION. 41 
 
 Sir Amias Paulet himself was an outspoken 
 and most bitter railer, not only among his own 
 vassals and servants, but also among their 
 most powerful friends and adherents in the 
 Parliaments wherein he served. I have never 
 heard but that my mother was virtuously and 
 soberly bred by the good man, her sire, who 
 very early was left her only parent. Solitarily 
 and somewhat sadly, belike, for he inhabited 
 so lonely a lodge in Hinton Park, that it might 
 have been thought sin could not have found 
 the way hither, through tangled copse and 
 shadowy forest glade, to work his evil will! 
 Yet so it chanced, Lymington was our parish 
 church, and it behoved my mother to wend 
 on her harmless devotions there what time she 
 was in the earliest bloom and innocence of 
 womanhood, and Wolsey first became the 
 vicar. Certes, it is no great marvel, being 
 already famous in his University for his great 
 wit and subtlety — handsome, young, of an en- 
 snaring carriage and masterful genius, fur- 
 nished with all such opportunities and influence 
 as his station and office could bestow, that he 
 won and abused the love and confidence of a 
 simple village girl, whose beauty and ignorance 
 ofi*ered her as defencelessly alluring to his 
 machinations as a hedgeside rose to the way- 
 
 E 2
 
 42 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 farer's rifling greed ! I do remember me how, 
 in my earliest years, I was stigmatised and out- 
 cast among the children of the village by the 
 name of the ' priest's bastard ' — only thereby 
 had I reason to know that Wolsey was my 
 father, during all the years of my childhood. 
 I was the orphan of a living sire, contemned 
 and forsaken, an unwelcome intruder into a 
 home whither I brought shame, sorrow, and 
 contention for a portion and an inheritance. 
 Doubtless, Wolsey feared the scandal of my 
 parentage might bar his hopes of advancement 
 in the grave and decorous times of our late 
 prince, King Henry VII. ; and he ever publicly, 
 and with vehement protestations, denied it. And 
 besides — for let us be just even to the unjust — 
 he had some cause to be exasperated with what 
 chanced to him on mine and my mother's ac- 
 count. Sir Amias Paulet, waxing wrath, on 
 my birth, with the discovery of his vassal's 
 seduction and shame, by threats and suasions 
 forced her to confess with whom lay the oflfence, 
 and caused the unworthy vicar to be set in the 
 stocks, in the midst of his own hooting 
 parishioners, during such space as he deemed 
 convenient to make his disgrace and its cause 
 publicly manifest. Ye may well conclude how 
 little the pride and vain-glory of him who now
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATION. 43 
 
 scarce stomachs the equalling of great princes 
 and nobles, could endure this merited ignominy 
 and reproof, which also encouraged the rude 
 and rustical people in those parts to refuse 
 him all honour in respect of his calling and 
 office among them. In especial, my grand- 
 father, being of a resolved and stern temper, 
 and secretly fraught with contempt and bitter- 
 ness against the whole system and function of 
 the clergy in those days, so unceasingly and 
 relentlessly wreaked his just indignation against 
 him for his daughter's shame, under counsel 
 and protection of Sir Amias, that Wolsey 
 quitted that country shortly after I was born — 
 and even England itself, in the train of a 
 Cheshire knight who was treasurer of Calais, 
 until such time as chance and his better fortune 
 recalled him hither to play so great a part as 
 all men's eyes do now behold him triumphing 
 in — being yet but on his way to an eminence of 
 earthly glory, which in their fond opinion hath 
 but the skies above it ! — If so, how far !" 
 
 " Sir Amias must needs have repented him 
 of that rough jest, during the seven years he 
 abode in sanctuary, for dread of the Cardinal's 
 vengeance," said Cranmer ; " and methinks it 
 was an unseemly justice, such as wise lords 
 take only on their most lowly and rustical vas-
 
 44 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 sals, to do upon one in holy orders and a 
 beneficed clergyman." 
 
 " But we need scarcely marvel the Cardinal 
 thenceforth took little pleasure in the recol- 
 lection of his village cure," said Ridley. 
 "But did he so altogether forget that nature 
 made laws before canonists, as, for years, to 
 take no manner of note of your existence, 
 Raphael?" 
 
 '* It was even so," replied the young man, 
 with emotion. "But that old Adam Rood- 
 spere, my grandsire, in so far forgave his 
 daughter that he cherished her and her un- 
 lawful offspring in his house, I know not 
 what should have become of us. We must 
 have gone forth, a perishing Hagar and Ish- 
 mael, into the wilderness of the world — no 
 hand held out to save, no dark-green water- 
 gourd lifted up by angels to our parched lips ! 
 He that was called my father abandoned his 
 cure and his offspring as alike hateful and des- 
 picable. And yet he must have felt, or feigned, 
 some interest in my welfare, for, as I learned 
 later, himself gave me the name of Raphael, 
 and seemed to forgive my mother her 
 affrighted confession of his delinquency, 
 promising her that some day he would return 
 and do great things both for her and her son.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOKMA.TION. 45 
 
 It was therefore, that she obstinately clung to 
 calling me by the archangel's name, against 
 my grandfather's and Sir Amias's will, who 
 would have called me Job, signifying sorrow 
 and trouble ! But Wolsey had already privily 
 christened me, wherefore they could not 
 change my designation. Yet Raphael signifies 
 Physic of God — and a bitter physic I may yet 
 prove to some ! 
 
 " And thus was I bred in my grandfather's 
 house, and the years of my childhood were full 
 of griefs and mortification — chiefly on the 
 scare of my unhallowed parentage. My 
 grandfather was a virtuous, but scarcely a kind 
 man ; superior in mind and demeanour to 
 other agrestic and homebred men, but harsh in 
 his manners — relentless alike in his loves and 
 in his hates ! I had no cause to expect that 
 he should look on me with great favour, whose 
 existence was his sorest calamity and reproach ; 
 and as he continued to detest the very name of 
 the destroyer of his OAvn and his daughter's 
 peace, it was no marvel that he treated me 
 with some severity and rigour in my childhood. 
 He would oft reproach me with my sacrilegious 
 birth, never speaking of Vicar Wolsey but 
 with contumely and upbraiding — whereat my 
 mother, being a very woman, though of a meek
 
 46 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 and broken-hearted gentleness for the most 
 part, would take his side with woful tears 
 and complaints, saying that they who forced 
 her to betray him, and so grievously dis- 
 honoured and shamed him, were the sole 
 causes of his seeming cruelty and desertion. 
 Yet at last even her fond and clinging tender- 
 ness could no longer deny or palliate, save 
 with a lamenting silence, and tears which she 
 dared not betray by wiping them away, that 
 Vicar Wolsey had indeed abandoned his hap- 
 less victim and her child most utterly to the 
 care of Him who feeds the raven on the barren 
 mountain tops. And methinks it was no 
 reparation of his violated vows, in the sight of 
 Heaven, that he thus maintained the sem- 
 blance of innocence in the sight of men ! But 
 it might be that he became speedily too much 
 absorbed in the glories and perplexities of his 
 rising power — in nobler and statelier para- 
 mours — to remember the simple woman he 
 had betrayed, the paltry village whose peace 
 he had troubled so profitlessly. The world 
 had become his theatre, and was scarcely wide 
 enough for the swelling pageantry of the part 
 he would enact. From these bickerings, from 
 the childish insults of my playfellows, from 
 our lord. Sir Amias's, own scornful remem-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 47 
 
 brancing, when by chance he espied me out, 
 I learned too early the tale of guilt and dis- 
 grace which was my history. Something of 
 evil^of sacrilege — seemed at the very foun- 
 tain of my existence. I felt myself to be 
 a thing profane; I knew not why. I grew 
 to dislike all society of my fellows, to^ shun 
 the village green and its sports, to hide my- 
 self like a fearful reptile whenever I discerned 
 the stately person and long white beard of 
 Sir Amias Paulet approaching the lodge we 
 inhabited in his chase. New sources of 
 trouble and contention arose. Nature was 
 strong in me, being son of so learned a clerk, 
 or else my mother infused the notion into me 
 from so early a period that my memory cannot 
 retrace the springtide of feelings that grew 
 with my growth. But from my earliest years 
 I disliked my grandfather's occupation, and by 
 no teaching could acquire skill in it ; while I 
 had ever a desire after book-knowledge, and 
 an anxious spirit of research in religious 
 matters. This latter liking, I doubt not, was 
 taken from my grandfather, who was himself 
 singularly thoughtful and studious in spiritual 
 dealings. Yet he took what pains he could to 
 conceal his ideas on such subjects, and in 
 especial the source whence he derived them,
 
 48 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 in the English Bible of Wicliffe, over which 
 he pondered in secrecy, and which I have 
 reason to think his lord had given him, and 
 also taught him to read. He looked upon me 
 with a strange jealousy and distrust, as if I 
 were some spy and delator to betray him. 
 Also, he opposed my yearnings after scholar- 
 ship, as if it betrayed my relationship to the 
 profane clerk who had so abused his power 
 over the mind of a simple country girl. On 
 the other hand, my mother, by all the means 
 she dared, encouraged my wishes. But it was 
 not possible for her to win his consent to re- 
 lease me from the tasks of the forest and 
 warren. Only, at rare intervals, she contrived 
 that I should have time afforded me to 
 frequent the village school, kept by Wolsey's 
 starved curate. Clerk Ibbetson ; so that when 
 I came first to Cambridge, red and rusty from 
 the plough, it is no reproach to my first teacher 
 that I had almost my accidence to learn in the 
 Latin, and all branches of the unprofitable 
 sciences which I also then esteemed true 
 wisdom ! 
 
 " Thus years passed away; and at last, even to 
 our remote village, came tidings of Wolsey's 
 rise, who, indeed, ascended like an eagle in 
 full soar, to the highest crags, without halt or
 
 THE DAYS OF THE -REFOEMATION. 49 
 
 pause ! For a long while my mother could 
 not well believe the wild clerk, her once lover, 
 had become the high and mighty prince and 
 cardinal, on whose nod kings and nobles 
 waited ! But she grew at last to credit the 
 rumour, and doubtless to cherish a mother's 
 ambitious hopes in her secret heart. Con- 
 trariwise, my grandfather grew as it were 
 hourly into deeper animosity against him. 
 There came a sort of wandering men not un- 
 frequently among us, who, I have since not 
 doubted, were of the persecuted religionists 
 that then began to labour anew in the choked 
 vineyard of the Lord. Illiterate but firm- 
 minded and heroical men, full of exalted hopes 
 and purposes, and all , smarting under the 
 grievous tyranny of those who hated and 
 feared the coming light, they were ! From 
 these wanderers Adam Roodspere could hear 
 only what added to his dislike and dread of 
 Wolsey ; and I also listened, with my heart in 
 flames, to their tidings ! The word father had 
 to me no significance ; but these men stood 
 before my young eyes, the living personations 
 of great thoughts and heroical courage — 
 apostles of the persecuted truth ! Their tales 
 and sufi'erings more than balanced all the effect 
 of my mother's womanish fantasies and still 
 
 VOL. 1. F
 
 50 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 lingering love for her betrayer — so that when 
 at length my grandfather's severity, and dis- 
 like against the evidence of his daughter's 
 shame, was kindled to fury by the vengeance 
 inflicted on his lord, and she would have had 
 me flee to Wolsey for protection and advance- 
 ment, I would not comply with her prompt- 
 ings. 
 
 " In sooth, so long as my grandfather lived, I 
 lent no willing attention to my mother's sug- 
 gestions — and resentment was kept alive in his 
 heart by the unrelenting persecution his 
 master. Sir Amias Paulet, sustained. Under 
 other pretexts, but doubtless to revenge the 
 great insult suffered at his hands, Wolsey kept 
 him in fear and jeopardy of his life and goods 
 during many years, insomuch that he dared 
 not live among us, but resided, a panicstricken 
 fugitive, in the sanctuary town of Westminster. 
 This Christian prelate had not forgotten his 
 hatred, but he had forgotten his love ! No 
 tidings ever reached us from him ; and even 
 my mother's heart grew faint at last with hope 
 deferred. Meanwhile Sir Amias's estates fell 
 into the hands of roguish stewards — were fined 
 and forfeited in all imaginable mulcts — so that 
 his fortunes sunk into ruin and decay. My 
 grandfather's oflice became useless and unfeed
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 51 
 
 — himself fell into a despair and dotage — and 
 but for my mother's toil and mine, he must 
 have starved. We still inhabited our lodge — 
 my mother spun flax night and day, and I 
 hired myself, as a shepherd's boy, to a neigh- 
 bouring farmer. But I was a mere lad, alto- 
 gether unskilled in the tasks to which I offered 
 myself; my birth stirred prejudice and ill-will 
 against me, for even as a parish priest, Wolsey 
 had been too haughty and masterful not to 
 leave angry recollections behind him. I 
 reaped his harvest ! But I persevered in my 
 exertions — relinquished altogether my scanty 
 but much-loved books, rather than adopt the 
 resource my mother pointed out — so odious 
 and fearful had my sire's personage become to 
 me ! I felt, too, that to leave my grandfather — 
 above all, on such an errand — would have 
 broken his aged heart — for he loved me at 
 last ! — Thank God, he loved me well before he 
 died! 
 
 *' But die he did ; and to bury him decently 
 exhausted the slender remnant of our inhe- 
 ritance. Sir Amias Paulet, wroth with his 
 long sufferings, had only forborne us for my 
 grandfather's sake, and now turned us out of 
 his lodge, to perish under the open skies, or 
 share the fox's den. Nevertheless, Clerk 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 W UR6ANA CHAMPAIGN
 
 52 WESTMINSTER ABBEY J OB, 
 
 Ibbetson took pity on us, and sheltered us in 
 an outhouse belonging to his parsonage. He 
 could not do more, dreading scandal ; he had 
 a peevish housekeeper, and my mother's story, 
 he perchance deemed, rendered caution more 
 necessary regarding her than others. He was 
 miserably poor, raising his subsistence by his 
 own hand in his glebe. Thus, though we had 
 a roof over head, we had still no means of 
 supplying the merest wants of humanity 
 saving by labour — the labour of one alone, it 
 soon became. My mother, though still young, 
 was sickly, and worn out with years of pining 
 hopelessness. Want of sufficient sustenance, 
 and harbourage which scarcely excluded the 
 change and anger of the elements — the toils she 
 was obliged to share, or too willingly took 
 upon herself, that she might yet procure me 
 seasons of leisure to continue my studies, on 
 which her own soul was also bent — speedily 
 did the work of destruction upon her ! I saw 
 her fading daily before mine eyes — I heard her 
 wailings and expostulations — and could not 
 but deem, as she lamented her, that the Car- 
 dinal would have pity on her if he knew to 
 what a pass she was reduced, even if for myself 
 I would not ask his awmous ! Clerk Ibbetson, 
 who I knew to be a pious and well-disposed
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFORMATION. 53 
 
 man, also exhorted me to comply with my 
 mother's earnest entreaties, and endeavour to 
 obtain some aid for her from the Cardinal. I 
 could not unmoved, see my mother perish thus 
 slowly of want and misery ! I consented at last 
 to seek the Cardinal's presence, and set out on 
 foot to beg my way thither, furnished with 
 more loving remembrances and proofs of my 
 identity, than unhappy Phaeton carried to the 
 gorgeous presence of his sire, the Sun ! 
 
 " How long I was upon the way, what suffer- 
 ings of hunger and toil I surmounted in the 
 hope to save my mother's dear existence, I will 
 not be so tedious as to tell. Even when I 
 reached London, barefoot and starving, I had 
 still another journey to take. The Cardinal 
 was at Hampton Court. Thither yet I bent my 
 way — was beaten with blows from his princely 
 halls because I refused to reveal to his menials 
 my name or business, and was obliged, as it 
 were, to waylay him when he rode forth, in all 
 his glory, on a hunting party, with the ambas- 
 sadors of the emperor, in his park. Doubtless 
 I bore a great resemblance to my mother, in 
 her young days, for though I was one of a 
 great throng of suitors and petitioners at his 
 gates, the Cardinal started the moment he ob- 
 served me — grew pale and flushed by turns — 
 
 F 2
 
 54 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 and beckoned me to the stirrup of his mule. 
 He questioned me whence I came — and waxed 
 yet more troubled when I said from Lymington, 
 in Somersetshire ! But when I added, weep- 
 ingly, that my name was Roodspere, and that 
 my mother was Alice, the only daughter of 
 Adam the falconer — he nigh dropped from the 
 saddle with a sudden faintness ! Whereof 
 making his plaint, though he laid the blame 
 on the too hot sun, he alighted, and caused 
 them to bear him into his palace again, order- 
 ing me also to follow him. What conjectures 
 men formed, [ know not ; but, after a pause, 
 I was led into the Cardinal's private presence ; 
 and hours elapsed, and still the beggar-boy 
 was closeted with the mighty minister ! 
 
 "Ye have all seen him, and know how 
 princely and gracious he is of his carriage, 
 where he will — what a gift of golden words he 
 hath — what authority and persuasion in all he 
 saith and doeth ! But when so mighty a one 
 clasped me in his embrace, and with sobs and 
 flooding tears owned me for his blood — when 
 he acknowledged his fault in having neglected 
 me so long, and promised infinite reparations 
 —when he praised my person and parts with 
 his most lavish eloquence, and spoke with the 
 tenderness and freshness of a young man's
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEEOKMATIOT>r. 55 
 
 love reviving in his breast, concerning my 
 mother — no marvel I was moved, melted — alto- 
 gether overcome ! Oh, how I loved that new- 
 found sire then ! There was nothing he did 
 not promise me — I only asked immediate 
 succour for my mother ! It was granted. I 
 would have borne it to her myself, on the very 
 wings of my love, but I was utterly spent in 
 body — my feet torn and bleeding — I had 
 scarcely strength left to tell my tale ! And 
 when such joy came to crown it, I was van- 
 quished quite, and yielded to the Cardinal's 
 command that I should abide with him and 
 rest, while he despatched a faithful servant of 
 his own to give the necessary relief to my 
 mother, and revive her sinking powers with 
 the wine of hope ! 
 
 " Stephen Gardiner, then one of the Car- 
 dinal's chaplains, was chosen to this office. He 
 departed, I have since learned, with secret in- 
 structions to make inquiries into the truth of 
 all I had averred, and on other points upon 
 which the Cardinal desired to satisfy himself. 
 It is strange — it is marvellous — but the 
 mighty mind of Wolsey is subject to the most 
 monkish superstitions of our age ! He is a 
 firm believer in the false science of judicial 
 astrology, and Gardiner was instructed to
 
 56 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 obtain the most minute information concerning 
 the time of my birth, and other data whereon 
 to erect an astrological prediction of my for- 
 tunes. None of ye here will deem it is scandal 
 if I say that Gardiner is a meddling, cen- 
 sorious, rancorous-spirited man, who places 
 his chief satisfaction in harming others. He 
 arrived in Hinton St. George only just in time 
 to gather these superstitious grounds of cal- 
 culation from my mother's dying lips — I am 
 even left in doubt whether he comforted her 
 dreary passage of mortal agony with the full 
 tidings of my good speed ! Clerk Ibbetson 
 thinks not, whose office of confessor and ad- 
 ministrator of the church's last rites, Gardiner 
 usurped by my mother's death-bed. She died 
 belike unknowing that the Cardinal still loved 
 her — which for her would have taken the 
 bitterness out of the very cup of death ! Oh, I 
 was to blame to trust any other with such good 
 tidings, that might perchance have given my 
 poor mother yet strength to resist the 
 destroyer ! Nevertheless for days, for weeks 
 after my reception at Hampton Court, I lay 
 powerless on my couch, unable to raise my 
 limbs save when the Cardinal entered my 
 chamber, to inquire tenderly after my health, 
 and sometimes himself to hand me my cups of
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOBMATION. 57 
 
 reviving cardiacs and herbs. But yea, I had 
 strength always to rise on my elbows, and re- 
 ceive that new-found father's benediction ! 
 
 *' Indeed, until Gardiner returned, I grew as 
 it were hourly in the Cardinal's favour. I ob- 
 tained from him what the most powerful suitors 
 had failed to win — the pardon and release of 
 Sir Amias Paulet, simply by enlarging on the 
 long protection he had granted my grandsire. 
 Of his own accord, the Cardinal resigned his 
 benefice of Lymington, which he had continued 
 to hold amidst all his archbishoprics and bi- 
 shoprics, and abbacies unnumbered, to the good 
 man who had schooled and befriended me in 
 my adversity. Clerk Ibbetson was luckily 
 collated to his vicarage before Gardiner's 
 return, else methinks he would also have 
 come under the cloud which then imme- 
 diately shadowed me. I know not why 
 Gardiner should desire to do me mis- 
 chief; but it soon became manifest, even to 
 my youth's simplicity, that mischief he had 
 done me. That he represented my mother's 
 family as a nest of heretics, and favourers of 
 heresy — myself as one bred in their fallacies, 
 and, young as I was, an earnest and vehement 
 propagator of the same — I learned from 
 the Cardinal's own amazed inquisition. lb-
 
 58 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 betson himself escaped not Gardiner's evil 
 tongue, on the same score. And all this 
 he affected to have gathered from my 
 mother's dying confession, to himself! His 
 proofs, beside, were only my grandsire's 
 possession of Wicliflfe's forbidden Bible, 
 and which, indeed, after his death, be- 
 came my own most earnest delight and study — 
 until when he concealed it with something of 
 madly jealous and fearful care ! But of heresy 
 or heretics, I knew scarcely then what the 
 words meant — much less merited I to share 
 their condemnation on any score of abstract 
 opinion. Nevertheless, Gardiner was not con- 
 tent with that strange suggestion. He even 
 endeavoured to throw doubts on my claims to 
 the Cardinal's consideration — unhappy as they 
 were— declaring that in my village I was held 
 to be the unlawful issue of old Sir Amias 
 Paulet himself, and of his keeper's daughter. 
 The Cardinal lent no credit to this ribald in- 
 vention, unless it might be to soothe the 
 reproaches of his conscience by persuading 
 himself that my mother had not proved faith- 
 ful to her guilty love, and in some measure 
 deserved her woful fate. Nor did his favour 
 and loving kindness seem greatly to diminish 
 towards me until he had consulted a certain
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATIOX. 59 
 
 soothsayer on my horoscope, in whose predic- 
 tions he placed extraordinary faith. A monk 
 of the Charterhouse in London — one Friar 
 Hopkins — drew the scheme of my nativity ; 
 and though I never learned what might be the 
 deductions his vain science drew, from that 
 hour I declined in the Cardinal's favour. My 
 unlimited access to his presence was suddenly 
 withdrawn ; when I entered it I was received 
 with a degree of coldness and embarrassment 
 I could not understand, but felt in my heart's 
 core ! It seemed as if almost my sire dreaded 
 some personal mischief from me — some attempt 
 at assassination, or other desperate evil ! But 
 I was not left long to form conjectures. Under 
 plea of immediately gratifying my eager thirst 
 for knowledge, and specially my unguarded 
 expressions of the infinite desire within me to 
 acquire the original languages of WiclifFe's 
 great book, which I heard railed upon in the 
 Cardinal's court as a false and heretical trans- 
 lation, I was sent to Cambridge. It is more 
 than six years ago ; yet from that hour I have 
 never been admitted to Wolsey's presence. 
 When even he visited here, with Erasmus in 
 his company, ye all remember how I was sent 
 on a fool's errand, on a pilgrimage to Walsing- 
 ham, merely to be thrust out of his sight !
 
 60 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 What, then, if I owe to him the chance boon 
 of life, and the scanty means which have 
 hitherto maintained it? — I owe to you, brethren, 
 its sweetest consolations — the spiritual life 
 which is the only true and valuable existence 
 of mankind — the aliment which has sustained 
 my reason and intellect, the noblest parts of 
 humanity ! — But, lest you should still misdoubt 
 of me, I will place myself wholly in your 
 hands, confiding to your care this treatise of 
 mine, wherein I have placed on record the 
 reasons which do compel me to regard the 
 whole offering of the Mass as a pagan ido- 
 latry, unacceptable to God ! " 
 
 As we have previously observed, whatever 
 might be the secret workings of opinion among 
 them, the Cambridge doctors had as yet evinced 
 but few symptoms of doctrinal revolt. Least 
 of all on so momentous, and, in fact, all-con- 
 centrating a point as the one on which Rood- 
 spere now openly declared his separation. 
 
 " Raphael ! my son, my pupil ! — would you 
 have us to believe that you share the woful 
 error of Luther in regard of the Sacrament? " 
 said Cranmer, turning very pale. All gazed 
 with eager wonder and expectation at the 
 youthful propounder of so startling an ad- 
 vance.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 61 
 
 " Nay, father," replied Roodspere, with 
 some embarrassment, " read only what poor 
 arguments I can allege for mine opinion that 
 in this even Luther himself — Luther hath 
 opened the door of light, but its sudden 
 radiance dazzles even his strong vision — and 
 those who follow in his steps, being trained 
 more gradually to explore it, may see farther 
 in the blaze ! Only in spirituality and in 
 essence do I admit of a superhuman presence 
 in the cup of the Sacrament ! Will nonfe of 
 ye take my book and be judges of my 
 reasons ? " 
 
 There was a pause of dismayed silence 
 among these founders of the Anglican Church, 
 who were yet destined to place the doctrine 
 thus timorously announced by the young 
 apostle as the corner-stone in the great fabric 
 of the Church they were to raise. It was in 
 effect the denial of the Real Presence — the 
 key of the arch of Protestantism ! 
 
 And now, before any other dared to express 
 acquiescence, Bilney had snatched the manu- 
 script which Roodspere produced from the folds 
 of his vest, with the ravenous eagerness of a 
 starved man for food. 
 
 *' Give it to me — to me ! If thou hast found 
 some steady rock whereon to stand amidst the 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 62 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 tumbling and raging surf, let me also plant 
 my foot upon it ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Nay, brother," said Cranmer, gently but 
 firmly taking it from him, " it is for all our 
 perusal and study ; and together we will form 
 our conclusions on the work. Meanwhile, I 
 will be its treasurer. Roodspere's safety de- 
 mands no less, if, indeed, it be not forfeited 
 already; for is it not strange the Cardinal 
 should send for you now again, dear son, after 
 such long intervals of neglect ? " 
 
 "My letters in Bilney's behalf may have 
 brought me to his recollection ; and Gardiner, 
 who, for reasons of his own, is my enemy, is 
 absent, I have heard, on a charge to Rome," 
 replied Roodspere, cheerfully. " Howsoever, 
 I have no alternative but obedience ; and I 
 shall go joyfully to either fate if my father 
 Bilney here promises to abstain from any rash 
 purposes of his own until he has thoroughly 
 weighed and considered on what reasons I 
 base my strength." 
 
 " I do promise, Raphael ! God has given 
 me a gleam of hope once more — I see that my 
 example will deter, not lead thee on, to the be- 
 trayal of the truth ! " said Bilney, in a calmer 
 and more rational tone than he had as yet used. 
 •' Thou goest indeed to destruction — my soul
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. G3 
 
 prophesies it ! The dragon devours his owa 
 brood when he is wroth ! But why should I 
 defile the white flames of thy martyrdom with 
 the rank blaze of an apostate's sacrifice ? Go 
 to thy glory ; go to thy doom — alone ! Bilney 
 is not worthy to share either with thee! " 
 
 " Let us pray for him as for one who enters 
 the den of lions, unarmed, saving by the word 
 of truth," said Cranmer. " Promise me only, 
 for my sake, my son ! — that you will not wilfully 
 rush upon destruction, by the open avowal of 
 these your beliefs, or perilous conjectures, of 
 the truth." 
 
 " I do. I will not. I have other projects, 
 dear father ! I deem that men need en- 
 lightening by other than the fitful blaze of the 
 martyr's stake!" said Roodspere. "I would 
 dedicate myself to the spread of the knowledge 
 which is as sure precursor of true religion in 
 men's hearts as the effulgence of light comes 
 before the rising of the sun ! But God's will 
 be done, whatever it be ! I am ready." 
 
 " Oremus! let us pray for him," said Cran- 
 mer, sinking on his knees — an act of devotion 
 which was imitated by all present, and by none 
 more zealously than by Bilney. Cranmer then 
 gave utterance to the prayer which was in 
 every heart on behalf of the young champion
 
 64 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 whom they were now about to send forth from 
 amid their ranks to the conflict. But he added 
 an earnest supplication that God would endue 
 the youth with prudence to avoid the snares 
 of his enemies, and to shun wilfully tempting 
 the rage of the adversary; but neither sur- 
 rendering the truth by word or deed. 
 
 " It is well said," observed Latimer, rising 
 after the ensuing brief and silent, but most 
 ardent repetition of this prayer made internally 
 by each of the brethren ; " and now let us par- 
 take of the blessed elements together — whether 
 simply as of the substances of the corn and 
 vine, in remembrance of the Lord — as methinks 
 Raphael would teach us is true doctrine — or 
 as the flesh and blood of Him. But, indeed, 
 something my soul tells me that the day will 
 come when we shall all be of one belief in this 
 high matter, and it will become the very touch" 
 stone of assay between us and our adversaries ! " 
 
 No one ofl'ered objections to a proposal 
 which allowed full latitude to the private 
 opinions of all ; and Latimer, as the oldest 
 priest present, prepared the sacramental ele- 
 ments. The brethren broke the bread to- 
 gether, and passed the cup from lip to lip in 
 silence. It was of pure gold, almost the only 
 article of value possessed by the future Pri-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOIIMA.TION. G5 
 
 mate, at this period. And as it was raised in 
 reverence by each kneeling recipient in suc- 
 cession over his forehead, and gleamed in the 
 faint light, it might have seemed to a fanciful 
 eye as if tongues of fire once more descended 
 on the heads of a group of new apostles. It 
 struck Latimer somewhat in this point of view, 
 though he alluded to the circumstance with the 
 touch of humour that often mingled with his 
 most serious cogitations. " Brethren," he 
 said, " it may well chance that we shall also be 
 called upon to preach with tongues of fire to 
 the people ; for, certes, if we go on as we have 
 begun, for all thy prudence, Thomas, we shall 
 come to the stake, and compose blazing hiero- 
 glyphs which the dullest shall perforce read 
 and understand ! " 
 
 After this effusion the brethren arose, and 
 all being anxious to change the sombre and 
 dispiriting tone of the conversation, it passed 
 into more everyday topics connected with the 
 departure of Roodspere, which it is not neces- 
 sary to repeat. The meeting only separated 
 at midnight — to re-assemble at an early hour 
 and escort Roodspere, with friendly zeal, some 
 distance on his way out of Cambridge.
 
 66 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MAECHANT HFNNE. 
 
 Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries 
 JEven from the tongueless caverns of the earth, 
 Aloud for justice, and rough chastisement. 
 
 Shakespeaee. 
 
 The parting of the Cambridge Reformers was 
 affectionate and solemn, as that of brethren 
 who bid one another farewell on the deck of 
 some barque bound to remote and dangerous 
 shores. Latimer and Cranmer bestowed an 
 earnest benediction on the young traveller, 
 and Ridley embraced him without daring to 
 trust his tongue with any words of regret, 
 feeling that firm utterance failed even his 
 manly and stedfast heart. But Roodspere 
 understood the silence. His own eyes were 
 filled with tears, which yet he would not suffer 
 to overflow. Bilney alone was absent, but 
 Roodspere had the satisfaction to learn he had 
 fallen into so deep a slumber that Ridley, in 
 whose chamber he slept, thought it best not to 
 disturb him.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE HEFOEMATION. 67 
 
 Yet, again, before tliey parted, Roodspere 
 reassured Cranmer's fatherly fears with pro- 
 mises that he would not wilfully incur danger 
 by any uncalled-for avowal of his opinions. 
 Regard for the safety of his loved friends and 
 associates would alone suffice, he said, with 
 ajffectionate sweetness, to induce him to be 
 on his guard against any rash and unnecessary 
 manifestation of his sentiments. On the whole, 
 the brethren parted from their young fellow- 
 labourer more cheerfully than might have been 
 expected, heartened, in good measure, by his 
 own calmly courageous demeanour. Then, 
 gently urging the ill-conditioned steed forward, 
 which was the only one his poverty enabled 
 him to provide for the journey, after many a 
 backward glance, Roodspere found himself 
 alone in the world, and in the midst of one of 
 the extensive marshy wastes that environed 
 Cambridge at the period. But when the last 
 flutter of his friends' academic robes vanished 
 in the distance, he yielded to the over-mastering 
 emotion so long suppressed, and wept with 
 almost a womanish passion of tenderness and 
 grief. Relieved by this paroxysm, he drew his 
 hood over his face and pursued his way, im- 
 mersed in sorrowful reverie, and heedless
 
 ^8 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OR, 
 
 utterly, of the few objects that occurred to 
 break the monotony of the scene he traversed. 
 
 What of consolation could, indeed, mingle in 
 the cogitations that oppressed the wayfarer's 
 memory and heart ? Whatever confidence he 
 had affected to cheer his friends, Roodspere 
 felt little or none in the existence of any 
 parental feeling on the part of the Cardinal, 
 who had so long treated him with neglect. 
 The fruit of a casual amour, probably the 
 mere indulgence of an animal passion, what 
 reason had he to trust in the tenderness of 
 a sire to whom his existence was a reproach 
 and an evidence of the violation of vows 
 deemed the most sacred in his church ? No 
 bonds of association or of habit united them, 
 without which the mysterious link of blood 
 itself seems to lack its mightiest power. Little 
 even of the natural protection and kindness the 
 brutes of the earth and sky extend to their 
 offspring, had Wolsey bestowed upon his for- 
 gotten son ! What claims could he then urge 
 upon his forbearance if, as was probable, tidings 
 of his heterodox leanings had reached the Car- 
 dinal's notice ? And Roodspere was deter- 
 mined never to imitate the apostacy, and share 
 the maddening remorse of Bilney. 
 
 Nevertheless, the young Cambridge doctor—
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATION. 69 
 
 for the authorities had conferred the degree 
 upon him, so long unjustly withheld, but which 
 they dared not longer refuse to their potent 
 Chancellor's behest — had no fanatic purposes 
 to run amuck against the power of the pro- 
 digious system, whose overthrow was yet the 
 necessary preliminary of the triumph of the 
 principles he had embraced. Roodspere was 
 fraught, indeed, with a faith and enthusiasm 
 that needed only the trample of oppression to 
 quicken into the vehement flame of a martyr's 
 challenging audacity. But, hitherto, his con- 
 victions in favour of the new doctrines pre- 
 served a natural bias in the mind of a scholar ; 
 and to spread the enlightenment he believed he 
 had received from the study of the Scriptures, 
 in their uncorrupted simplicity, seemed to him 
 the most useful and holy dedication he could 
 assign himself. Butamotive more powerful than 
 even this sublime conviction and confidence in 
 the illuminating diffusion of the long-darkened 
 truth, exercised, almost unconsciously to Rood- 
 spere himself, a mighty influence in his resolves. 
 By no effort of reason or resentment, could he 
 shake off the disarming recollection that the 
 chief of the system which would thus be lifted 
 from its unstable foundations, stood to him in 
 the sacred and exalted relation of the giver of
 
 70 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 the life that circulated in his veins. More- 
 over, briefly as they had known each other, 
 his extraordinary sire had established himself 
 in an enduring influence over the heart and 
 mind of his son which no circumstance of time 
 or neglect had availed effectually to destroy. 
 Not all his mother's wrongs and his own — the 
 long unkindness exhibited towards him — the 
 change in the entire action of his mental facul- 
 ties and principles — could obliterate the domi- 
 nion acquired by Wolsey in his subtle exercise 
 of the magic which nature and circumstances 
 bestowed upon his wily and yet commanding 
 genius ! 
 
 This potent sway over an afi'ectionate and 
 reverential spirit, like that of the young dis- 
 ciple of the Reformation, to common appre- 
 hension, would have had nothing singular in 
 it. Wolsey possessed the fascination apper- 
 taining to glory and good fortune, in the most 
 wonderful degree. All Europe rang with his 
 fame ; he held its balance in his hands ; the 
 councils of his country were swayed by his sole 
 voice. Every lustre enormous wealth and 
 magnificence could confer, surrounded him ; 
 the sceptre of genius was in his grasp ; he filled 
 the most august and venerable offices which 
 mankind have agreed to exalt in awful re-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 71 
 
 verence and esteem. On eyes so young and 
 unaccustomed to the displays of earthly vani- 
 ties, as the despised suppliant who first beheld 
 them united all, in dazzling profusion, in the 
 person of a father, it would have been no 
 wonder if they had exercised an overwhelming 
 effect. Still it was not so. From his earliest 
 years, Roodspere was imbued with the solemn 
 grandeur of thoughts which own no allegiance 
 to the things of the world — the outward attri- 
 butes and trappings of a fallen humanity ! But, 
 at the same time, he had a heart so sensitively 
 moulded, so exquisitely alive to every tender 
 and endearing emotion, that Wolsey still found 
 a way to subjugate it with a yoke which remained 
 unimpaired amidst all the oscillations and revo- 
 lutions in the intellect of his son. His brief 
 display of affection, yet so apparently impas- 
 sioned and sincere, conciliated Roodspere' s 
 inmost soul, effaced the bitter memory of pre- 
 vious wrong, and in a manner enslaved all his 
 faculties to the ascendancy of that mighty will 
 whose dictates he yet hoped he might not be 
 called upon openly to withstand. 
 
 But how might this dreaded contest of feeling 
 and duty be shunned ? For what purpose was 
 he summoned to the Cardinal's presence ? 
 Were his delinquencies discovered ? Wholly,
 
 72 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 indeed, they could not be, since he had scarcely 
 confided to his own bosom the full extent of 
 the progress he had made in the new path! 
 Bilney, himself, guessed not the extent to which 
 his doctrines had germinated in that rich soil — 
 how the mustard seed had become a tree ! 
 But from his earliest arrival in the University, 
 Roodspere had been associated in what was 
 then the obscure, and scarcely noticed party 
 that now began to diffuse so much alarm. His 
 ardent desire to acquire the New Learning, of 
 which Cranmer was one of the most distin- 
 guished teachers, recommended him from the 
 first to him. He became Cranmer' s pupil — 
 his beloved disciple — and was by him initiated 
 in all the scholastic science then deemed the 
 fitting preparation for the queen and crown of 
 all. Theology. His eminent talents, his mild 
 and unassuming manners, the shade of melan- 
 choly in his character even, soon made him an 
 object of deep interest and hope with the con- 
 genial though more irresolute and learned 
 master and his associates. The only circum- 
 stance against him was, that he was believed 
 to be under the Cardinal's patronage. No 
 nearer relationship, though surmised and ru- 
 moured, was for a long while credited, for he 
 himself never alluded to any, and Wolsey's
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 73 
 
 conduct could not readily be conciliated with 
 the supposition. During Roodspere's long 
 abode in the University, notwithstanding the 
 reputation he acquired, he received no marks 
 of special notice, saving some few which rather 
 indicated hostile than parental feelings. He 
 was peremptorily inducted in the priesthood at 
 an unusually early age, and before he could 
 have formed any notion of his own fitness, in 
 order, as Gardiner openly declared, that the 
 Cardinal might relieve himself of the charge of 
 his maintenance by conferring upon him a small 
 prebend in one of his cathedrals. The due 
 transmission of the narrow income thence de- 
 rived, and the singular precaution which re- 
 moved him from Cambridge during Wolsey's 
 visit there, alone testified that this great patron 
 preserved any further recollection of his 
 existence. 
 
 This persevering neglect, or worse, disdain, 
 might have had some influence in directing 
 the current of Roodspere's mind, as the mor- 
 tifications and sorrows besetting Cranmer's 
 unlucky marriage doubtless had upon his 
 career. But an intellect so bright and inwardly 
 illumined, could not long remain confined within 
 the circle of darkness environing the theolo- 
 gical sciences of the age. The narrow bounds, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 74 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 the unreasoning formulas, and peremptory dog- 
 mas of the scholastic method, could not long 
 content his inquisitive and already revolted 
 spirit. Luther had appeared; his doctrines 
 had begun to shake the world, and the atten- 
 tion of theological students was as necessarily 
 turned towards him and them, as that of astro- 
 nomers to the apparition of a new planet or of a 
 comet in the skies. The influence of this teacher, 
 and the circumstances of Roodspere's youth, 
 alike directed the first force of the impulse he re- 
 ceived against the monastic notions and abuses 
 which had played no inconsiderable a part in 
 his mother's immolation, and had, in fact, given 
 her the woe of martyrdom without its crown. 
 Cranmer, also, had his tale of grief and perse- 
 cution to relate, the consequences of his lawful 
 indulgence in the most beautiful and holy of 
 the passions of humanity. And all these causes 
 working together, produced open manifestations 
 from Roodspere — bursts of the flame a glow 
 within — which might very naturally, he could 
 not conceal from himself, have attracted the 
 Cardinal's inquiry and anger. The rigour he 
 had recently displayed, in the administration of 
 his legative office, against the Reformers, also 
 denoted some great change in his policy, which 
 had formerly been conciliating, almost favour-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BEFORMATION. iO 
 
 able, to their practical views. Roodspere was 
 of course as ignorant as the rest of those not 
 admitted to his confidence, that Wolsey had 
 formed the project of dispossessing a man 
 many years his junior, whom he could not 
 hope to succeed, from the throne of orthodoxy, 
 and that innovation had now become treason 
 against his own projected spiritual sovereignty! 
 Yet amidst all these perturbing thoughts, 
 Roodspere was not without gleams of an infi- 
 nite peace and satisfaction. After mental throes 
 and struggles which only those who have hung 
 suspended over the abysses of religious doubt — 
 who have had their most rooted beliefs torn 
 from them by the whirlwinds of new opinion — 
 can conceive, he had reached a secure standing 
 place, where the dread adversaries that for- 
 merly beset him were powerless. He had 
 passed through the valley of the shadow — he 
 had vanquished the hydra — he had entered a 
 haven of calm and settled faith ! This was a 
 vast gain — a priceless advantage ! And be- 
 sides, he rejoiced that by quitting the Univer- 
 sity he should enter on a course of action the 
 consequences of which would be confined to 
 himself. Persecution and suff'ering, the tender- 
 hearted hero of theology imagined he could
 
 76 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 endure, without shrinking, so long as those 
 whom he loved did not share his afflictions ! 
 
 Roodspere arrived in London, it might almost 
 be said, for the first time, on this occasion. His 
 former brief passage through it, on his sorrow- 
 ful pilgrimage from Lymington, left few im- 
 pressions on his pre-occupied and perturbed 
 mind. But now, when he traversed its popu- 
 lous streets on his way to Westminster, and 
 contemplated the evidences of wealth and 
 power which the even then mighty city pre- 
 sented on all sides, his spirits rose with the 
 reflection that the cause of the Reformation 
 was believed, by more than its friends, to have 
 made considerable, though covert, progress 
 among the citizens of London — and still as 
 the harvest of the ancient labours of WiclifFe. 
 An event that happened a few years previously 
 furnished some grounds for this supposition 
 to the hopes of the Cambridge reformers. 
 This was the celebrated case of Merchant — or 
 as our ancestors pronounced the word — Mar- 
 chant Hunne which we must somewhat 
 detail, as it is intimately connected with the 
 elucidation of certain mysterious events and 
 personages in our future narrative. 
 
 In general it may be observed, that if reform- 
 ing notions had made any visibly extensive
 
 THE DATS OF THE REFOHMATION. 77 
 
 progress in England, at this period, it was 
 in the great towns. The great towns fur- 
 nished those early confessors and martyrs 
 whose names are scarcely recorded, but the 
 sparks from whose flaming stakes scattered 
 everywhere the seeds of a conflagration which 
 a sea of blood could not finally quench. The 
 wealth and population of London, its enlarged 
 intercourse, have in almost all ages of our 
 history rendered it disposed to encourage new 
 ideas, bold and resolute in support of them. 
 The afi'air of Hunne was, however, nearly the 
 first to awaken any startling suspicions of the 
 spread of the new doctrines among its powerful 
 citizenship. 
 
 Richard Hunne was a citizen of London, an 
 inhabitant of the parish of St. Martin-le- 
 Grand, where he carried on the business of 
 court tailor. This parish, though in the heart 
 of the city, was a dependency of the Abbey 
 of AVestminster, whose extensive possessions 
 stretched in all directions beyond the district 
 bearing the name. Hunne was wealthy, and 
 apparently of a litigious disposition, for he 
 had long rendered himself distasteful to those 
 monastic superiors by his resistance to what 
 they considered their dues, and he held to be 
 usurpations and unfair exactions. It was no 
 
 2 H
 
 78 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OH, 
 
 unusual resource of clerical vengeance, in 
 those days, to place such an opponent under 
 the ban of suspicion in the article of religious 
 belief. But from subsequent events it ap- 
 peared that in this instance the monks of 
 Westminster could allege more reasons for the 
 persecution to which they subjected Marchant 
 Hunne than the immediate cause of quarrel — 
 which nevertheless touched them in a vital 
 point. 
 
 Hunne drew on his head the lightnings of 
 the cloud that had long gathered over him, by 
 refusing to pay certain dues claimed by the 
 curate of his parish on the burial of an infant 
 child. The clerical functionary demanded as 
 a mortuary the winding-sheet in which the 
 little defunct was borne to the grave, or an 
 equivalent sum in money. Hunne refused 
 both, and with extraordinary audacity denied 
 the right of the Church to exact either. The 
 Abbey of Westminster, unwilling to be de- 
 frauded of its smallest gains, or owing Hunne 
 a grudge for his imputed heretical opinions, 
 took vehement part with its curate, and cited 
 the recusant parishioner before the proper 
 ecclesiastical tribunal. This was the full 
 chapter of the Abbey itself, which owned no 
 superior but the Roman Pontiff. Hunne had
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEPOIIMATION. 7^ 
 
 perhaps no great confidence in the impartiality 
 of a court so constituted, and but too craftily 
 counselled by his la^vye^s, not only refused to 
 plead his cause before it, but committed the still 
 deadlier ofi'ence of appealing to the civil juris- 
 diction. Not content with even this audacity, 
 he indicted his antagonists in a prcemunire for 
 exercising an unlawful jurisdiction. Such he 
 alleged to be that of the ecclesiastical courts, 
 which sate by authority of the Pope only — a 
 foreign prince whom he asserted to have no 
 jurisdiction over the subjects of the realm. 
 
 This resistance, which struck at the very 
 root of their power, exasperated the entire 
 body of the clergy to the highest degree. They 
 retaliated with the utmost fury on Hunne — 
 found or invented the groundwork of an 
 accusation of heresy against him — and suc- 
 ceeded eventually in lodging him in prison on 
 that formidable charge. While thus secluded, 
 the merchant was either driven by despair to 
 put an end to his o\vn existence, or, in the 
 more general belief, was destroyed by the 
 malice of his clerical enemies. 
 
 Certain it was, at all events, that Hunne was 
 found hanging in the prison belonging to the 
 Abbey of Westminster, and that a coroner's 
 jury affirmed he had been murdered therein.
 
 80 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 It is true that the jury was composed of London 
 citizens, friends and supporters of Hunne, 
 naturally disposed to place the worst con- 
 struction on the circumstances attending his 
 immolation. The monks of Westminster were 
 also in ill-repute with the citizens in general, 
 for there were several points in which their in- 
 terests clashed. But whether conscious of 
 innocence, or hoping to blind suspicion, they 
 seemed purposely to assemble a tribunal of those 
 most likely to prove hostile to their exculpa- 
 tion. The results did not answer this astute 
 calculation, if it was one. The London jury 
 declared it was impossible Hunne could have 
 destroyed himself in the manner exhibited ; 
 that he was not merely strangled, that his neck 
 was broken ! and that other marks of violence 
 and foul play were visible on his person and in 
 his place of confinement. 
 
 The Treasurer of Westminster, by whose 
 orders Hunne had been captured — an old 
 monk noted for his extreme severity and 
 bigotry, whose office was similar to that of 
 the archdeacon of a diocese — was upon this 
 accused of the murder. The jailer, and a half- 
 witted lad who occasionly had charge of the 
 keys, were associated in the accusation. 
 According to the London jurors these were
 
 THE DA.YS OF THE REFORMA.TION. 81 
 
 the only persons who had motives or means to 
 commit the crime. The jailer vindicated him- 
 self, or endeavoured to do so, by alleging he 
 was absent from his post on the night of his 
 prisoner's death. But he could only produce 
 two or three of the disorderly reprobates of the 
 sanctuary of Westminster, and one of the 
 monks, whose jovial but dissolute character 
 affixed no weight of credibility to his evidence, 
 to prove the pretended alibi. On the other 
 hand, his half-witted coadjutor, who was com- 
 monly called " Smiling Willie," lent a wild 
 but horrible support to the popular opinion, in 
 a revelation which he made at the inquest. 
 He declared that it was true he was left by the 
 jailer, Joakin Mugwort, in charge of the keys 
 and of the^prisoner, whose violent demeanour 
 had forced the Treasurer to order him to be 
 placed in a species of durance called the " Iron 
 Clogs," kept to restrain such refractory guests. 
 These consisted of a pair of metal sandals of 
 great weight, riveted to the floor, in which the 
 prisoner's feet were secured by latches and 
 padlocks. Smiling Willie proceeded to aver 
 that in the middle of the night the devil, dis- 
 guised as one of the Abbey monks, entered 
 the jail, and informing him that he had come 
 for the soul of the captive heretic, ordered him
 
 82 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 to open the way to his place of confinement. 
 It appeared that he recognised this terrific 
 visitant by his horse-hoofs, a ghastly horned 
 visage under his cowl, and eyes which shot out 
 long livid streams of flame ! Not daring to 
 disobey so potent a command, he escorted the 
 infernal apparitor to the prisoner's dungeon, 
 which was at the top of a high tower called 
 the Gatehouse of Westminster. He was then 
 ordered to remain at the door and deliver his 
 torch to the fiend, who entered Hunne's 
 chamber alone. The half-mt affirmed that at 
 this time Hunne was firmly secured in the iron 
 clogs, and awake, for he saw his eyes gleaming 
 in the sudden flash of the light. He also 
 showed great marks of terror and confusion at 
 the aspect of his visitor ; but Smiling Willie 
 was instantly signed to withdraw, and was 
 himself so frightened that he remembered little 
 of what followed but a sound of vehement dis- 
 pute between the prisoner and the Evil One, 
 concluding with a great uproar, after which 
 was a silence of some fifteen minutes, for he 
 heard the quarter bell of the Abbey strike 
 t\vice — followed by the abrupt departure of the 
 Evil Spirit, who rushed past him, and disap- 
 peared in a whirlwind of flame ! 
 
 Unhappily for themselves, the monks of
 
 THE DAYS or THE REFORMATION. 83 
 
 Westminster, whether superstitiously or craf- 
 tily, adopted this marvellous view of the case, 
 and unanimously justified themselves and their 
 officers by asserting that the devil had actually 
 exercised this signal vengeance on the heretic 
 prisoner ! But the London jurors, on the con- 
 trary, adopted only so much of the evidence 
 as coincided with their own opinions, and con- 
 cluded that Hunne had been murdered by one 
 of the monks, a worthy representative of the 
 evil agency alleged. Old and infirm as the 
 Treasurer was, it seemed to them very possible 
 that he might have strangled a man so 
 shackled as Hunne was admitted to have been, 
 who was also of slender frame and past the 
 age of physical energy. In vain did the 
 Treasurer prove by the evidence of his fellow 
 conventuals that he spent the night in an en- 
 tirely different part of the Abbey, engaged in 
 devotion at the shrine of St. Edward, in the 
 church. This defence only increased suspicion, 
 since there was no one who could attest the 
 positive fact of the Treasurer's tarriance there. 
 And if all had united in the assurance, it 
 would have produced probably no efiect. It 
 was so much the interest of all to prove the 
 innocence of their official ! 
 
 A wild and general ferment ensued. The
 
 84 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 relations of Hunne, at least his numerous issue 
 by a first wife — a young widow whom he left 
 played a very different part — filled all men's 
 ears with cries for justice. Proceeding on the 
 coroner's verdict, Hunne's children procured 
 a warrant against the parties accused, and at- 
 tempted to put it in force within the privileged 
 precincts of the Abbey of Westminster. But 
 the Treasurer pleaded his clerical exemption, 
 and refused to surrender, or to make his ap- 
 pearance before any lay tribunal, while his 
 supposed accomplices took refuge in the Sanc- 
 tuary of Westminster, whither the officers of 
 the city dared not follow them. Naturally 
 exasperated, and supported by the entire body 
 of the citizens, the children of Hunne appealed 
 to the highest civil jurisdiction, and to the 
 king himself, with clamours that could neither 
 be silenced nor evaded. Thence events arose, 
 at one time threatening momentous conse- 
 quences. The opposite pretensions of the 
 lay and ecclesiastical powers were suddeidy 
 brought into sharp collision. Cardinal Wolsey, 
 as head of the English church, found himself 
 placed in dangerous antagonism to the king, 
 as head of the state. The party in the court 
 secretly banded against him, from the earliest 
 hours of his supremacy, managed to persuade
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATIOIS'. 85 
 
 the haughty Henry that his prerogative was in 
 question, and that it was a fitting time to put 
 some limit on the excessive power of the 
 clergy. But Wolsey was not inclined to risk 
 his favour with the king, even in behalf of 
 the body with which his profession identified 
 him. Perhaps he was in some measure 
 governed by the little esteem or liking he had 
 for the monastic order, whose interests were 
 immediately concerned. He yielded the pri- 
 vileges of the Church, maintained so long in 
 the face of reason and expediency, and sancti- 
 fied by the blood of his own patron saint, 
 A'Becket. He surrendered the Treasurer, who 
 had submitted himself to his judgment, and his 
 alleged accomplices, for trial before the civil 
 tribunals. He even violated the privileges of 
 the Sanctuary of Westminster to eff'ect this 
 object, which the most daring princes and 
 statesmen had hitherto feared in any manner 
 to assail. 
 
 It was at this stage of the extraordinary 
 case of Marchant Hunne that it took one of 
 the most astounding developments the eyes of 
 civilised men, not yet inured to religious per- 
 secutions and cruelty, had witnessed. The 
 Abbey of Westminster, seconded by the ma- 
 jority of the exasperated clergy of London, 
 
 VOL. 1. I
 
 86 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 resumed the process of heresy against Hunne, 
 dead as he was, murdered as he was alleged to 
 be ! A great number of the chiefs of the 
 monastic establishments of London, headed by 
 its fanatic bishop, Fitzjames, and a competent 
 band of learned doctors, assembled in conclave 
 in the Chapterhouse of Westminster. These 
 Courts of Inquisition were usually secret ones, 
 as it was alleged, to prevent the contamination 
 of heretical opinions being diffused by the very 
 means taken for their suppression. It was so 
 on this occasion ; but the results were made 
 audaciously open and manifest. The court 
 proceeded in a trial of the defunct with all the 
 formalities observed towards living persons 
 accused of heresy ; examined witnesses, ad- 
 mitted the charges as proved, and condemned 
 the dead body of Marchant Hunne to suffer 
 the penalties of the offence ! " The vile Lol- 
 lardy of London," as an anonymous chronicler 
 of the Abbey calls them, were indeed struck 
 with amazement when they heard their oppo- 
 nents were resolved to assert the justice of 
 their proceedings, by burning, as a heretic and 
 suicide, the corpse of the man they were accused 
 of having murdered ! 
 
 Roodspere had more reasons than the sjTn- 
 pathy natural to a member of the same perse-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOBMATION. 87 
 
 cuted sect, to keep this ghastly event in his 
 recollection. It happened that it was enacted 
 on the "very day when he arrived in London, 
 on his painful journey from Lymington. 
 Turned from the gates of York Place with 
 tidings of Wolsey's absence at Hampton Court, 
 he was advised by a charitable beggar, who 
 observed his kindred destitution, to apply for 
 food and lodging at the neighbouring Abbey 
 of Westminster. He was assured of its hos- 
 pitality and liberality to the poor, especially to 
 those who either feigned or came on a pil- 
 grimage to the shrine of St.Edward — a business 
 which secured all who chose to allege it a week's 
 dole and harbourage. This latter suggestion 
 the honest country lad would not adopt — the 
 former he did. But to his surprise he arrived, 
 not in the precincts of a peaceful abbey, among 
 quiet monks, but in the midst of a tumultuous 
 rabble, who guarded the execution of their 
 lords' barbarous sentence on the body of 
 Hunne ! 
 
 Though perfectly unacquainted at that time 
 with the circumstances of the case, its dread- 
 ful accompaniments riveted the event in Rood- 
 spere's memory. Nearly three weeks had 
 elapsed since the death of Hunne, however 
 occasioned, and his body had continued un-
 
 88 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 buried, in the Gatehouse-jail. Hitherto the 
 monks alleged they kept it to prevent their 
 enemies mutilating it to support their accusa- 
 tion, while the Londoners and Hunne's rela- 
 tions declared it was done to prevent the 
 evidences of their guilt being made manifest. 
 It now appeared that it was preserved with 
 the intention of visiting the senseless carcass 
 with the punishments assigned to the supposed 
 spiritual aberrations of its defunct owner. 
 
 Roodspere remembered the whole scene 
 long after with the utmost distinctness. It 
 took place in the churchyard before the Abbey ; 
 and though the execution of the sentence fol- 
 lowed almost immediately on its promulgation, 
 a great crowd had assembled to witness it. It 
 was chiefly composed of denizens of the 
 Sanctuary — friends and clients of the monks 
 of Westminster. The latter allowed as little 
 time as possible for any gathering of the 
 Londoners which, in the excited state of men's 
 minds, might have been attended with danger. 
 The same motive, perhaps, influenced the 
 monks in their determination that the execu- 
 tion should take place within their proper pre- 
 cincts, instead of in the more usual place of 
 cremation at Smithfield. Some, however, as- 
 serted that the Abbey feared lest it should
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFORMATION. 89 
 
 ackowledge a jurisdiction of the Bishop of 
 London in its affairs, if the punishment were 
 inflicted in that prelate's limits. 
 
 Roodspere's rustic and ragged appearance 
 insured his admission to the precincts — the 
 rural and vagabond populations were believed 
 to be devoted to the monasteries, from which 
 they received many great benefits. He found 
 himself, then, the spectator of a scene whose 
 strangely horrible accompaniments fixed its 
 minutiae in his memory. The gallery over the 
 great north entrance of the Abbey church was 
 crowded with the black-robed monks of West- 
 minster, and a conclave of the high dignitaries 
 who had adjudged Hunne's corpse to the 
 flames. Mitres and croziers and magnificent 
 robes abounded in this assemblage of ecclesias- 
 tical magnates. The group represented, in- 
 deed, the entire body of the London clergy. 
 Three bishops were present ; and nearly all the 
 chiefs of the numerous monastic establishments 
 of the capital — black, white, grey, and brown 
 — from the Abbot of Westminster to the 
 humblest prior, evinced by their attendance 
 their hearty concurrence in the strange and 
 terrible resolution about to be enforced. The 
 abbot was an old man, of a noble and benevo- 
 lent countenance, gorgeously robed, with a 
 
 1 2
 
 90 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 jewelled mitre and crozier, who, to his credit 
 be it said, sate in his carved and gilded chair, 
 or throne, with a look of much disquiet and 
 distaste. 
 
 Almost facing the north-gate of the church, 
 commonly called Solomon's Porch, was the 
 Gatehouse prison, on the opposite side of the 
 churchyard. It was a massive square tower 
 over a deep archway, which admitted into 
 the sanctuary town of Westminster, and was 
 defended by a raised portcullis, as by the 
 jagged teeth of a whale ready to close on 
 its prey. Accordingly it was commonly known 
 as Jonah's Jaw — but much more rarely than 
 the one the prophet fell into, disgorged its 
 luckless prey. Between the Abbey and this 
 prison, to the west of the little church, or 
 chapel, of St. Margaret, was a space of a cir- 
 cular form, with a huge granite stone in the 
 middle, called the Place of the Ordeal. The 
 abbey traditions averred that it was here, and 
 not at Winchester, as rival traditions asserted, 
 that the mother of the Confessor, Queen 
 Emma, passed over nine burning ploughshares, 
 blindfold yet unharmed, in proof of her 
 innocence of the incontinence imputed to her 
 with her spiritual guide. Bishop Alwin. It is 
 more certain that from an era as remote it
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATlON. 91 
 
 was the spot where the judgments of God by 
 fire, water, and personal combat, were allowed 
 under the Abbey authorities, to such of their 
 vassalage as claimed the privilege. But these bar- 
 barous appeals had long fallen into disuse, and 
 the Place of the Ordeal was usually distiguished 
 by a large wooden crucifixion set in a socket 
 hollowed in the judgment-stone. This emblem 
 of mercy and redemption was now removed to 
 make room for a tall stake, some ten feet high, 
 set round with faggots and shavings. A cask 
 of pitch stood ready at hand to heighten the 
 blaze ; and from these circumstances, and the 
 aspect of the armed yeomen surrounding the 
 stake, with the Abbey's badge of a cock on 
 their partisans, Roodspere was suddenly seized 
 with the conviction that he had accidentally 
 stumbled on the actual performance of one 
 of those prodigious species of execution which 
 had long excited his childish horror and dread 
 in the mere report. He turned with an aghast 
 look to make the inquiry of a person near 
 whom he stood — a man in a very shabby suit 
 of lawyer's robes, who was watching the scene 
 with evident interest, and who seemed struck 
 with the ingenuous horror depicted in Rood- 
 spere's countenance. He informed him of 
 the particulars of the case with a degree of
 
 92 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 sardonic coolness, though with a brevity and 
 clearness that denoted he was thoroughly 
 acquainted with the facts. Nevertheless the 
 vehement expression of Roodspere's hor- 
 ror and amazement, even at the calm and 
 unimpassioned account he gave him, visibly 
 stirred his curiosity. In his turn the lawyer 
 addressed some careless but very skilful 
 queries to elicit the antecedents of his strange 
 companion, whose manner and conversation 
 coincided s© little with his rude and beggarly 
 array. And somehow or another, before the 
 dreadful spectacle they were to witness came 
 to exhibition, the ragged rustic and the 
 seedy-garbed man of laws had established a 
 species of confidential communion very singu- 
 lar in perfect strangers, and on topics so 
 perilous. 
 
 The bailiff of Westminster, a man of knightly 
 rank, in whose family the office was hereditary, 
 with the assistance of his yeomen, had mean- 
 while cleared a space between the Abbey and 
 the Gate house with some difficulty, for the 
 mob were packed as closely as the cobble- 
 stones of a pavement. As soon as this 
 was effected, the joy- bells of the Abbey, 
 called Susanna and the Elders, began to ring 
 merrily, and, simultaneously, two proces-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATIOX. 93 
 
 sions emerged — one from the prison, tlie 
 other from the church. The former car- 
 ried in its ranks the condemned corpse, 
 stretched on a bier, and consisted of the javelin 
 men belonging to the bailliewick of Westmin- 
 ster. The latter was altogether of monks, 
 headed by the principal officials of the monas- 
 tery. 
 
 Roodspere was horrified by the certainty 
 that he beheld the body of Marchant Hunne 
 on the bier, though it was covered by a piece 
 of black pitchcloth, from which a boot pro- 
 jecting in one direction, and a motionless pur- 
 ple hand in another, alone announced that the 
 person of a human being was concealed below. 
 He heard the murmur of the rabble mut- 
 tering " the heretic, the heretic !" and his 
 companion, the man of laws, gave a still more 
 emphatic recognition. " Let us push on, my 
 good rural," he exclaimed, " and get as nigh 
 the body as we can ! I must tell you that 
 Hunne was my client — and I long above all 
 things to verify whether the poor man's neck 
 is broken, as the jury say, by murder; or 
 simply twisted, as the monks say, by suicide, 
 or some directer devil ! Thou art doubtless 
 well skilled in the strangling of poultry, and
 
 94 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 may give us the benefit of thy judgment on 
 the condition of this fowl of Diogenes !" 
 
 Roodspere complied, though too much hor- 
 rified to relish the bantering tone of the 
 lawyer, who perhaps, however, adopted it to 
 conceal his own emotion ; and thus, availing 
 himself of the route which the latter's strength 
 hurtled for them through the crowd, he became 
 a nigh spectator of the events that followed.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOKMATION. 95 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DOMINUS SANCGRAAL. 
 
 EVn like a temple, where the owls retreat, 
 
 And the bats lodge within long-moulder* d shrines, 
 
 Ope but a window, let a sun-burst in, — 
 
 And what a screaming anarchy awakes 
 
 Where falls the light, or sounding footstep comes ! 
 
 KOBEaT MoNTGOMEEY'S " LUTHEB." 
 
 AccoKDiNG to custom, an orator was appointed 
 to go through the ceremony of declaring the 
 heresies of the condemned, and delivering the 
 body of Marchant Hunne to the secular power. 
 In this case, merely from hand to hand, for the 
 Abbey exercised the ci\'il judicature over its 
 extensive domains. One of the monks of 
 Westminster, in the black robe and white 
 scapulary appropriate to the Benedictine order, 
 presented himself for the purpose. The office 
 seemed not to have been coveted by the dig- 
 nitaries of the monastery, since it was confided 
 to a young monk, whose personal charac- 
 teristics, nevertheless, betrayed some remarkable
 
 96 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 fitness for the task. He was of a low stature, 
 or else an habitual stoop in his figure produced 
 the impression — lean and sinewy, and distin- 
 guished by a peculiar writhing movement in 
 his gait, and the ominous addition of a club- 
 foot. The popular imagination identified this de- 
 formity as an infallible characteristic of the Prince 
 of Darkness himself, and a peasant boy could 
 not be supposed to have unlearned the preju- 
 dice. Yet, in after years, when retracing the 
 recollections of the dismal scene, Roodspere 
 could not well imagine why he was seized with 
 so profound a dread and dislike towards the 
 person of a man whom he had never seen 
 before, and might never see again ! But so it 
 was. And when the monk — moving with an 
 irregular impulse, not unlike the writhings of 
 a wounded snake — mounted the judgment-stone 
 to deliver the decretal he had in charge, the 
 impression produced by his peculiar malforma- 
 tion deepened in Roodspere' s rustic imagi- 
 nation. His head was disproportionately large, 
 and his physiognomy combined some singular 
 and startling incongruities. A forehead of 
 great breadth and intellectual expansion, upper 
 features all well and even nobly carved, could 
 not balance the unfavourable efi*ect of the lower 
 visage, which was coarse and sensual in a
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOR]\rATION. 97 
 
 marked degree. Satyr and demigod seemed 
 united in the expressiDn — so fraught with 
 vehement and lurid passions, intellect, and 
 powerful will, it was ! The workings of a 
 fiery though suppressed organization appeared 
 amidst all the laboured calm of the countenance. 
 Those dark, sultry eyes were in a manner caverned 
 in the hollow arching of the brows, the nostrils 
 quivered spasmodically, the bloodless com- 
 plexion was overspread with a deep leaden 
 pallor. The monk had almost the look of one 
 who had long been a physical captive, and who, 
 after years of vain struggle and resistance, had 
 sunk into the apathy of the covered but not 
 extinct volcano ! He was still evidently a 
 young man ; but the baldness of the monastic 
 tonsure, round which the short black curls of 
 his hair clung like soot, added very probably 
 to the age indicated by that worn but imposing 
 physiognomy. 
 
 The post of danger is seldom one of rivalry ; 
 but Roodspere's companion, the seedy man of 
 laws, appeared to be struck with the circum- 
 stance that the office of delivering Hunne's 
 body to the flames had been confided to this 
 young monk. He made inquiries, however, 
 which ascertained some reasons for the choice. 
 Roodspere shared the benefit of the informa- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 98 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 tion elicited from several of the bystanders, 
 among whom were two of the softer sex, who, 
 with great toil and hazard, had thrust them- 
 selves into a position whence they could obtain 
 an advantageous view of so singular a spec- 
 tacle as that of a roasted dead body promised 
 to be. The representative of the Abbey on 
 this occasion, they said, was one of its youngest 
 but most distinguished brethren. His proper 
 name was Bigod, and he was of the great 
 branch of that ancient and most noble family 
 settled at Chepstow Castle, in Monmouthshire. 
 But he was called Sancgraal in his monastery, 
 after the subject of so many of the religious 
 and chivalric romances of the age — the Sanct 
 Graal, or Holy Platter, from which the Saviour 
 was believed to have eaten the Last Supper. 
 The nobility of his birth procured him in addi- 
 tion the title of Dominus Sancgraal, even 
 among his monastic brethren, with whom 
 worldly distinctions were supposed to have no 
 place. Another circumstance rendered it re- 
 markable among them. He was said to have 
 been born in the Abbey church itself, the noble 
 lady, his mother, being taken with premature 
 travail in the sacred enclosure, whither she had 
 come on a pilgrimage to St. Edward. Dominus 
 Sancgraal had been educated and brought up
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 99 
 
 from early childhood within the walls of the 
 Abbey, and had long been considered as des- 
 tined to prove not only an ornament to the 
 order whose habit he wore, but to the entire 
 church. He was already esteemed a master of 
 scholastic theology, and a most eloquent 
 preacher and orator, both in Latin and English. 
 Moreover, he was popular, even among the 
 Londoners, for his skill in church spectacles, 
 and the extraordinary splendour of the 
 dramatic exhibitions which, under the names 
 of Mysteries and Moralities, were still esteemed 
 fitting clerical displays, of which he made 
 AVestminster Abbey the theatre. 
 
 A dozen contending voices heaped this in- 
 formation upon the questioning man of laws. 
 The women added, that the young monk was a 
 miracle of virtue and holiness, and that he held 
 women in such special horror and aversion that 
 he was never known to lift his eyes in their 
 presence, unless in the pulpit or confessional. 
 It appeared to be a received opinion through- 
 out the Abbey vassalage that this ascetic con- 
 ventual, though he held as yet no dignity in 
 the monastery, was the destined successor of 
 the aged Abbot, Islip. His extraordinary 
 talents, and renown for severity of morals and 
 sanctity, rendered him apparently a very fitting
 
 100 WESTMIXSTEK AEBEY ; OK, 
 
 one. Recent services added to his claims. 
 Induced, perhaps, in some measure, by grati- 
 tude and affection for his tutor and trainer, the 
 imprisoned Treasurer, he had taken strenuous 
 part in the resistance offered by the Abbey to 
 the attacks of that functionary's accusers, and 
 was the main instrument in procuring the con- 
 demnation of the heretic corpse. With a de- 
 termination and courage, recalling the audacity 
 of a St. Dunstan or a Becket, he had urged the 
 consistory of London on the extraordinary step 
 it had taken, whereby the clergy evidently as- 
 serted the community of their cause with that 
 of the Treasurer of Westminster, and their 
 resolution to stand by him in the danger and 
 tribulation he had fallen into. 
 
 Considering all these circumstances, the man 
 of laws observed to Roodspere, that a better 
 choice of an orator on the occasion could scarcely 
 have been made — and Dominus Sancgraal's 
 discourse and demeanour fully justified the 
 doubtful approbation thus implied. The young 
 Benedictine awaited until the noise made by 
 the populace, on the first appearance of Hunne's 
 body, gradually subsided, like the swinging 
 and clattering of sails and yards from a sudden 
 gust of wind. Meanwhile, he kept his eyes 
 fixed on the ground with a sombre humility
 
 THE DATS OF THE EEFORMATION. 101 
 
 that, nevertheless, excited the awe and atten- 
 tion of his auditors more than the most vehe- 
 ment summons. When at length silence was 
 established, it was of something deeper and 
 stiller than mere curiosity — and then a voice 
 of extraordinary volume and power, but care- 
 fully preserving a low and respectful tone, 
 which wonderfully gained on a populace so 
 little accustomed to any marks of deference 
 from its superiors, sounded yet to the most 
 remote and indiffeient hearing. 
 
 Roodspere long remembered the chief matter, 
 and some of the very words of this remakable 
 harangue. " Masters and friends !" began the 
 monkish orator, in the insinuating manner he 
 had assumed, " I am here by the commandment 
 of my lawful superiors, whom I am bound to 
 obey were it even to the death. Sancta obedien- 
 tia ! — we poor monks were therefore instituted, 
 merely to obey — implicitly as the very mechanism 
 of men's hands, but more skilfully. Therefore 
 I pray you hear me patiently, for I must do my 
 bidding, whatever comes of it — to men's liking 
 or against it. I am here to declare to you for 
 what cause the miserable carcass of Richard 
 Hunne is this day to be delivered to the flames. 
 His soul already burns in the unquenchable 
 fires of hell ! whither he has cast himself, like 
 
 k2
 
 102 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 him of old who plunged into the jaws of Etna, 
 leaving his brazen sandals upon the rim to 
 attest that himself alone had done the deed ! 
 These are the articles on which Richard Hunne 
 is condemned, whereon pondering ye will well 
 perceive both that he merited his fate, and that 
 it needed no privy and contrived murther, as 
 the raving Lollards of London pretend, to 
 have brought him to his just doom ! Is there 
 any here will say that these following asser- 
 tions are not of the foulest heretic pravity r If 
 so, they are fautors and allies of yonder con- 
 demned heretic, the foul stench of whose car- 
 cass less taints the air than while he lived his 
 doctrines did corrupt men's consciences ! " 
 
 " A sweet invitation to an argument," mut- 
 tered the lawyer to Roodspere. " The monks 
 keep their meats, in sooth, too long before they 
 cook them ! yet I could be nigh tempted to try 
 conclusions with this smooth-spoken, lamenting 
 young hyena, forsooth !" 
 
 The monk had, meanwhile, produced a 
 parchment, portentously signed and sealed, 
 doubtless the sentence of the court which had 
 condemned Hunne. But satisfied with ex- 
 citing expectation, he continued his discourse 
 with an eloquence and power that excited the 
 admiration and wonder even of the censorious
 
 THE DAYS OF THE -REFORMATION. 103 
 
 lawyer, and riveted the attention of the popu- 
 lace. This monk, indeed, possessed some of 
 the most valuable qualities of a popular orator — 
 vehemence, passion — a command of the most 
 effectual and picturesque language — an imagi- 
 nation of singular splendour — and, notwith- 
 standing the gloom and terror of his subject, a 
 species of lurid gaiety shone like the play of 
 lightning over his murky and tempestuous 
 fancies, and a grotesque though sombre humour 
 occasionally mingled with them, always suc- 
 cessful in rousing the laughter of the multitude. 
 " But I mil give you my text first, good 
 brethren," he continued, " inasmuch as an 
 oration without a text is even as a ship with- 
 out a rudder, or a steed without a bridle — or a 
 woman with a tongue, which knows less of 
 governance! ^^ Est blasphemia in castris!" 
 There is blasphemy in the camp ! — Well may 
 I say so since Hunne committed his heresies, 
 and hath found so many favourers and sup- 
 porters, in this very patrimony of St. Peter of 
 Westminster, in the court itself of our most 
 dread and religious prince ! My masters, the 
 text is from Joshua ; but albeit of holy writ, 
 never was it truer than now ! Good sirs, min- 
 strels and others who tell of the deeds of the 
 holy knights of old (for of profane chivalry
 
 104 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 it belioves not us poor silly monks in the 
 world's devices to give our foolish opinion!) 
 do oft rehearse the great combat of the valiant 
 knight, St. George, with the pestilent dragon 
 that ravaged the world in his day. God keep 
 the good knight's soul ! We of Westminster 
 have one of his noble limbs, his stalwart thigh, 
 whereon the lance of the faith was so often 
 couched of yore against the Saracen infidel ! 
 Fearful and horrible to behold was that deadly 
 worm ! Its vast mouth yawned like the pit of 
 hell ; its teeth were sharp and glittering as 
 scythes ; its accursed throat black and devour- 
 ing as the stinking sea-marshes of Essex ! The 
 scales of its monstrous body were purple as 
 the Syrian plague, harder than diamond, flash- 
 ing with a blinding light ! Yet, sirs, I tell ye, 
 the dragon St. George fought withal was 
 innocent and harmless as a lamb frisking 
 among the buttercups in spring, compared 
 with the Dragon of Heresy which hell has 
 spawned upon the earth in our days under the 
 name of Martin Luther ! The dragon of St. 
 George did but devour the mortal carcasses of 
 men— the dragon of Wittenberg devours their 
 undying souls ! God, then, and our Lord and 
 our blessed Lady to the rescue, for this dragon 
 is fairly among us now !
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOKMATlON. 105 
 
 " For truly, sirs, what guided St. George on 
 his woful way to the dragon's cave ? Gnawed 
 bones, mangled remnants of the slaughtered 
 wretches whose blood and marrow had glutted 
 the infernal monster's appetite ! And what 
 see we around us now, wherever we turn our 
 sorrowing eyes ? What see we here r" 
 
 The monk indicated the motionless configu- 
 ration at his feet, but without looking at it. 
 Yet a strange spasm distorted his visage for an 
 instant, and a deeper pallor settled on his 
 countenance, as if his own imagination, without 
 artifice of rhetoric, had raised a sufficiently 
 appalling view. 
 
 " What can we see through that pitchy 
 bearing-sheet ? The devil give it ye back for 
 a mortuary !" muttered the lawyer between 
 his teeth. 
 
 " Yea, here is the mangled carcass of one of 
 the heretic dragon's victims — here at our feet !" 
 continued the orator. " For that Richard 
 Hunne was a most potent and pestilent 
 heretic, none but his fellows and followers 
 (in bale also, I trust. Amen), will deny in 
 face of the plain and evident truths which 
 now I shall rehearse ! Our war with him 
 begins not now; from the very first of his 
 dwelling in our bounds he has been a sharp
 
 106 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 pesterer and perturbator of our peace. From 
 the very first lie refused our clearest dues, and 
 disdained our sway. Even on our blessed 
 saint's feast-day, he has ever refused to be so 
 much as a tester to the decoration of his altar. 
 But St. Edward has repaid him ! And on those 
 occasions it was that he openly maintained one 
 of his worst heresies, saying that the homage and 
 worship paid to the saints was a rank idolatry \ 
 Finding there was no law to compel sinful 
 men to what, on the contrary, were ever 
 voluntary offerings on that behalf, he next 
 denied our right to the tithes and dues of our 
 advowson of St. Martin's-within-the-walls, 
 maintaining that tithes were not of God's 
 ordination, but of the covetousness of bishops 
 and priests ! But in that quarrel the might as 
 well as the right were with us, and we cast 
 him in grievous penalties, even as St. Michael 
 trampled Lucifer ! We had then rest awhile 
 from his persecutions ; but meanwhile he con- 
 tinued his secret wicked doings in spreading 
 the pernicious doctrines of Martin among the 
 citizens of London, or rather those of another 
 and still more detestable heresy which has 
 lately arisen in France. One Calvin is the 
 devil's apostle there, who, dethroning Divine 
 Providence, avouches that men and all they
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 107 
 
 do are governed by a blind fatality ! Among 
 others whom he strove thus to corrupt was his 
 wife, Maudelyn Brandwich, an honest man's 
 daughter in the Vintry. But she being even 
 more plenteously endued, as I have heard, with 
 inner than outward graces, and very devote to 
 our holy St. Edward, turned a deaf ear to all 
 his false arguments and suasions. Thence 
 arose dissensions and jars between them ; and 
 now Hunne, espying that she was fortified in 
 the struggle by the good counsels and reason- 
 ings of her confessor, our Treasurer, who, for 
 the church's sake, is, at this very time, suflfer- 
 ing grievous persecution, strove to deprive her 
 of her last support and consolation, command- 
 ing her, under heavy threats, to frequent the 
 Abbey no more. But Mistress Hunne, know- 
 ing well that God is to be obeyed rather than 
 man, set no store by his prohibition. Where- 
 upon he waxed so ireful and deadly in his 
 cruelty and persecution, that she was obliged, 
 being in danger of her life, to take refuge in 
 our sanctuary. Truly, then, because our 
 Treasurer, as was his duty, persisted in refusing 
 to allow her to be dragged thence by force, the 
 infuriate and possessed wretch, her husband, 
 invented the vilest and most calumnious re- 
 ports against us — pretending that our Trea-
 
 108 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 surer, an aged and mortified man, kept her 
 there for a carnal love and liking toward the 
 beauty of the woman herself ! 
 
 " Not satisfied with the propagation of this 
 most false and infamous scandal, Hunne con- 
 tinued to annoy and molest our Abbey in all 
 manner of ways, stirring up his parochials to 
 resist our claims in a body — calling St. Edward 
 a micher and a thief, because we took his 
 altar-dues by force, being thereto compelled by 
 an undutiful resistance. And, finally, when the 
 infant man-child which, Heaven be praised ! 
 was the sole issue of the ill-starred union of 
 that unhappy girl with old Dickon Hunne, fell 
 a victim to his neglect and maltreatment, after 
 he had driven the mother from her home — 
 yea, and the bitter nursing of his beetle- 
 browed daughter, Margaret, who I doubt not 
 weaned it with a dug steeped in vinegar — 
 when the poor infant perished, I say, out of 
 his revenge and malignancy against the re- 
 fuged mother, and us who had saved her from 
 his wild-wolf rage, he refused one of the 
 clearest and most ancient dues of the church, 
 in the payment of a mortuary on the interment ! 
 Whence it came to pass that the child was 
 buried without Christian rites, cast like a 
 puppy dog into a ditch !"
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 109 
 
 This latter statement awakened a deep 
 feeling of indignation in the majority of the 
 audience, especially among the women. Sobs, 
 mingled with groans of execration and wrath, 
 were audible on all sides. Encouraged by these 
 signs of popular adhesion, the orator adopted a 
 bolder and haughtier tone in continuation. He 
 proceeded to relate the desperate resistance 
 made by the " old miser," as he frequently 
 styled Marchant Hunne, to the exaction of the 
 just claims of his spiritual lords, and his final 
 recourse to the envenomed disobedience of an 
 appeal to the lay tribunals, and the obtaining 
 of the prcemunire, which, if successful, would 
 have subjected the whole clergy of the realm 
 to the royal prerogative, and for ever have 
 destroyed the holy and necessary connexion 
 between all Christian communities and their 
 supreme mother and foundress, Rome ! But 
 the patience of heaven was at last exhausted, 
 and the incessant tears of our Lady of West- 
 minster, the orator declared, moved her almighty 
 son to interfere on behalf of his menaced church. 
 Inspired by these supreme guardians — Rood- 
 spere, young and ignorant as he then was, 
 heard with speechless horror — Hunne's ill-used 
 wife made open confession of his heresies and 
 misdeeds, and furnished ample justification of 
 
 VOL. I. li
 
 110 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OR, 
 
 his arrest and intended doom, which could only- 
 have been recantation or the stake ! But the 
 wretch, according to Dominus Sancgraal, pre- 
 vented the solemn and memorable act of justice 
 and retribution purposed, by taking execution 
 in his own hand! The fiend, according to 
 equally credible testimony, had come for his 
 forfeit soul in person — had loosened his bonds, 
 and put the means of destruction in his grasp ! 
 And yet, because the Treasurer of Westminster 
 had manfully done his duty in the affair — be- 
 cause Hunne's wife happened to be a woman of 
 singular beauty, in the judgment of those who 
 regard such outward fleshly shows of corrup- 
 tion ! — because it so chanced that he was the 
 first to visit the prisoner on the morning after 
 his death and cut him down, that devote func- 
 tionary was accused of murder ! — of a murder 
 which foiled his own most ardent purpose — by 
 the open punishment of the offender to deter 
 others from following in his damned steps ! 
 *' Yea, there are some that scruple not to 
 declare," continued the orator, " that a monk's 
 robe and cowl, much torn and handled, were 
 found in the dungeon, and were by the Trea- 
 surer surreptitiously removed ! Infinite lie ! 
 For what had he else to do but to produce 
 it and clear himself, if it belonged not to
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. Ill 
 
 him ? And who could imagine, if it did, 
 that he would have summoned witnesses, 
 with vehement outcries, at once to the spot ? 
 That he would have sent for a jury of the per- 
 jured London Lollards to sit in judgment on 
 the body ? And what needed we with the 
 blood of Hunne, so shed, or its free current to 
 choke in his old veins ? That we had suffi- 
 cient evidence to convict him of his heresies, 
 here is the proof — that we have sentenced him 
 dead, and that his body is here to abye the 
 penalties ! A solemn trial has been granted to 
 the accused, and by the witnessing of his wife, 
 Maudelyn Hunne, and many concurring testi- 
 mony, he was found guilty of the charges, to 
 the woful satisfaction of the entire Consistory 
 of London ! Masters and friends, these are 
 the accusations proven against him." 
 
 Dominus Sancgraal returned to the point 
 from which he had diverged, and read, in a 
 loud, and now imperious tone, the items of 
 the parchment he held in his hand. From which 
 it appeared that Maudelyn Hunne, Richard's 
 wife, electing rather to bear witness against 
 her own heart's blood than to sin with it 
 against the Holy Ghost, in the matter of 
 heresy, freely and without compulsion, con- 
 fessed that the said Richard Hunne had in
 
 112 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 secret keeping divers English books, prohi- 
 bited and damned by the law : as the Epistles 
 and Gospels in English, Wicliffe's damnable 
 works, and others of a certain Frenchman, 
 written in Latin, containing errors infinite — 
 in the which he had been a long time accus- 
 tomed to read, teach, and study daily. Search 
 being made for the said books, they were 
 found hidden under a plank in his sleeping 
 chamber. Among them, a Bible of the said 
 obstinate heretic WiclifFe, whose bones were 
 burned to ashes, and dispersed to the winds, 
 forty and one years after his death, by order 
 of the great and reverend council of Constance, 
 which also solemnly condemned his teaching 
 as heretical. " This Bible," continued the 
 orator, " we found all scrawled over with 
 annotations in his own hand, wherein, item, 
 he taught, that bishops and priests be teachers 
 and preachers, but no doers ; neither fulfillers 
 of the law of God, but catching, ravening, 
 and all things taking, and nothing ministering, 
 neither giving ! 
 
 " Item, he asserts the inevitableness of all 
 things, and denies the providence and almight 
 of God. 
 
 " Item, his wife confesses and makes oath, 
 that he would oft declare, with imprecations
 
 THE DATS OF THE REFOEMATION. 113 
 
 of the most holy name, that he would in no 
 wise submit him to the decrees and inter- 
 pretations of the church, but would use his 
 own judgment in the Scriptures, to guide 
 him aright. Forsooth, it was his saying — 
 "What need of torches in daylight ? As if the 
 blind could see by any light at all I Item, he 
 denied the power and worship of Our Lady, 
 for when his wife, being in the mortal throes 
 and anguish of childbirth, called on our Lady 
 of Westminster for aid, he sharply rebuked 
 her, saying ' Our Lady hath no power to aid thee, 
 foolish woman ! being but a log of wood, and 
 a marvellous ill-favoured one too ! ' But why 
 should I further sadden and profane the ears of 
 christian men with details of the enormities 
 for which Hunne's carcass is justly con- 
 demned to the flames ? If any man be desirous 
 to know the specialty of these articles, let 
 him come to me privily and I will show to 
 him the whole record. At present, kind 
 friends and masters — " 
 
 " Cry your mercy, my lord monk," interrupted 
 a voice at this moment, and, to Roodspere's sur- 
 prise and admiration, his companion, the lawyer, 
 stepped boldly forward, and challenged atten- 
 tion. " Cry your mercy ! but, by your leave, I 
 must enter a protest on behalf of this silent 
 
 L 2
 
 114 ' WESTMINSTEB ABBEY; OK, 
 
 defendant at your feet ! He was my client, 
 and I made his pleas, yea, and argued them 
 all at length, and, whatsoever his wicked 
 wife may aver to the contrary, I maintain 
 that Richard Hunne never denied the clergy's 
 right to all tithes, but simply to the mortuary 
 of his infant defunct, which having no pro- 
 perty, could forfeit none by demise, attaint or 
 otherwise ! Likewise that all bishops and 
 priests were Pharisees and hypocrites, he 
 nowhere maintained, but that ye of West- 
 minster, and my Lord of London, who per- 
 secuted him to the death, were so, in his 
 passion, he may have averred ! Truly or 
 not, I leave to clearer judgments ! But angry 
 men, the proverb says, may rail ! — What 
 he spoke of the ravening and greediness of 
 the clergy, he spoke of ye of Westminster 
 in particular, not in general ! What ye say he 
 spoke, as denying the providence of God, was 
 in no wise so ; but rather he asserted its 
 immutability and predestination ! Whether 
 he had those books or not, whereof ye speak, 
 I cannot say ; but if his wife heard him read 
 out of them, it hath been to little purpose ! 
 And if he spoke scandal of your monastery, 
 God alone knows it, and in His good time will 
 do him justice, and ye too ! Meanwhile, I
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFOEMATION. 115 
 
 must plainly tell you to your faces, if ye would 
 prove your innocence of the bloodguiltiness 
 laid to your charges, ye take an ill way, to 
 muffle the corpse thus from all men's sight, 
 and to purpose its utter consuming, as if 
 thereby ye could hide it from God's eyes also ! 
 Moreover, refusing, as ye do, to abide a fair, 
 open, and legal trial of a jury of the country !" 
 
 During the delivery of this astonishing 
 replication, the Westminster monk continued 
 to gaze in petrified wonder at the daring 
 speaker. He felt, perhaps, like a pugilist in 
 a country fair, displaying his science before a 
 ring of gaping rustics, who suddenly perceives 
 a gladiator of equal accomplishments step 
 forth to the encounter. He did not recover 
 completely from his amazement until ^the 
 adventurous man of laws had completed his 
 energetic protest. But he did so then in very 
 orthodox style. 
 
 " Master Cromwel ! the heretic and blas- 
 phemous scrivener, who spurted Hunne's 
 venom upon us for so long a season, and 
 invented the prcemunire against us which still 
 works to our detriment ! — who is the cause 
 why our innocent Treasurer must either wear 
 out his last sands in a dismal, plague-haunted 
 jail, or betray the liberties of the church, and
 
 116 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 the blood of holy A'Becket, shed in their 
 maintenance ! Good brethren ! ye who eat 
 the bread of the church at her gates ! put him 
 forth; if ye would not St. Edward himself 
 should arise from his sepulchre to accurse ye 
 as his false and ungrateful bedesmen ! " 
 
 This decree was instantly executed, and in 
 the roughest manner. A mob, consisting of 
 the most ferocious reprobates of the Sanctuary, 
 rushed in upon the bold man of laws — who 
 made an energetic but useless resistance, for 
 some instants, during which Roodspere was 
 thrown down, and severely trampled. When 
 he rose again, he perceived Master Cromwel — 
 as it appeared was his name — hurled out of the 
 Abbey gates, amidst a savage shouting multi- 
 tude, who covered him with blows and mud. 
 His voice was lost amidst the uproar, but his 
 gesture still evinced defiance, and he shook his 
 clenched fist, as he was thus violently hurried 
 out, at the monk. The latter stood calmly 
 looking on, with folded arms, and a smile of 
 withering contempt ; but rather, as it seemed 
 to Roodspere, at the executants of his will 
 than at his antagonist. He then proceeded in 
 the interrupted ceremonial as if nothing had 
 occurred ; read the sentence on Hunne, and 
 the long list of dignified signatures that fol-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFORMATION. 117 
 
 lowed the decree, with emphatic slowness, 
 concluding with the formula of delivering the 
 body to the secular power, to be dealt with 
 according to law. He omitted, however, the 
 usual mockery of entreating the said power to 
 show mercy to the condemned, and on the 
 contrary pronounced, with relentless emphasis, 
 the words of the curse sealing the excom- 
 munication of a heretic — " And may his soul, 
 like his body, consume, burn, and stink in 
 everlasting flames. Amen ! " 
 
 Dominus Sancgraal then turned to the 
 high Bailiflf, and again indicating without 
 glancing towards the muffled victim at his 
 feet, he signed himself with the cross, and 
 murmuring in a lower tone "In nomine 
 Domini. Amen !" he descended from the Stone 
 of the Ordeal. Then, and then only, did any 
 sign of human feeling betray itself in the 
 countenance or manner of this statue of bigoted 
 zeal. He staggered as he reached the ground, 
 a dark flush visited his countenance, and draw- 
 ing his mantle tightly around him, he avoided, 
 with an expression of horror and disgust, a 
 stream of dark liquid which had oozed from 
 the already corrupted carcass. He then glided 
 rapidly away through the opening masses of 
 the populace, and a general movement took
 
 118 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OK, 
 
 place towards the stake. Among the foremost 
 of the pressing multitude was Roodspere, 
 induced by a vague and yet terrible and 
 absorbing curiosity, probably stirred by the 
 lawyer's suggestions. The Bailiff's men raised 
 the bier, the pitchcloth was removed, and the 
 body of Marchant Hunne was exposed to the 
 gaze of all who chose to look upon so sad a 
 spectacle, festering in the garments it had worn 
 in life. The furred gown and golden chain of 
 the chief of an honourable guild still remained 
 upon him, as if his enemies deemed the con- 
 tagion of his heresies could be propagated by 
 the articles of his wear. But all speculation 
 « as to the state of his neck, whether fractured 
 or twisted, was prevented by the fact that the 
 girdle on which he was found hanging was 
 coiled around it so tightly that it was kept 
 rigid, even when the attendants raised the 
 body. 
 
 Roodspere averted his eyes with horror from 
 the ghastly countenance, already far advanced 
 towards decomposition. Or perhaps the 
 fascination of a look darted upon him from 
 the depths of a monk's cowl, in the distance, 
 called it off, and he perceived that Dominus 
 Sancgraal's eyes were fixed upon him with a 
 vague, unfathomable, but terrible expression^
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOIIMA.TION. 119 
 
 which haunted him for years after. The monk 
 disappeared the next moment under the arch 
 of Solomon's Porch, followed by the rest of 
 the brotherhood, chaunting a dreary Te 
 Deum — and Roodspere's gaze reverted, in 
 spite of himself, to the dreadful scene of 
 action. The body of Marchant Hunne was by 
 this time lifted from the bier to the stake, 
 chained to it — the faggots piled — and amidst 
 an universal shout of triumph from the mob, 
 fired! But the heart of Raphael Roodspere 
 gave no echo, sympathetic as it was in all its 
 chords, to that burst of brutish exultation. A 
 sense of the injustice, the cruelty, the per- 
 version of all reason, in what he witnessed 
 swelled in his young bosom in directly contrary 
 ratio to the applause of the multitude, and 
 burst from his lips in a cry of horror and 
 execration that pierced distinctly over all the 
 uproar of approbation, and seemed like the 
 solitary protest of humanity ! 
 
 Smoke and flame speedily obscured all view 
 of the corpse ; yet Roodspere continued to fix 
 his horror-fascinated eyes upon it, until a 
 chance waft of air suddenly gave him a last 
 view of the consuming victim. And then, 
 either his imagination worked an hallucination 
 on his strained vision, or else he saw, that the
 
 120 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 girdle twisted round Hunne's neck being 
 burned away, his head had fallen brokenly on 
 his chest, so that it seemed evident the spine 
 was fractured ! But again the smoke and 
 flames enveloped the martyr-corpse ; and in a 
 few minutes only a heap of black dust, piled 
 -circularly round the Stone of the Ordeal, re- 
 mained to testify that the act of immolation 
 was completed ! 
 
 Roodspere was hungry, footsore ; houseless, 
 friendless, utterly exhausted by toil and pri- 
 vation ! — yet he asked neither food nor lodging 
 that night at the Abbey of Westminster.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 121 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 YORK PLACE. 
 
 All so fast as that he may 
 He rod to Charynge Cross. 
 
 King Athelstaxe 
 
 The approach to Westminster recalled to 
 Roodspere's recollection the dismal associations 
 connected with the case of Marchant Hunne 
 — which had never wholly ceased to haunt it — 
 with renewed vividness. These clung to his 
 memory more tenaciously from the mysterious 
 and enigmatical circumstances involved, and the 
 prodigious desecration of the holiest and ten- 
 derest rights of humanity ! That Hunne's own 
 wife, the partner of his bosom, should have 
 been the main agent in his final immolation, 
 seemed to add an unknown species of sacri- 
 lege to all the other horrors of the deed ! 
 Roodspere also remembered, with as little 
 satisfaction, the subsequent part taken by the 
 Cardinal in the affair. He had himself 
 described to him the scene he witnessed, with 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 122 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 every circumstaDce of its horrors; and had 
 reason to conclude, from his expressions of 
 sympathetic indignation, that Wolsey would 
 efficiently carry out his apparent resolution of 
 bringing the accused parties to j ustice. But he 
 afterwards assented to a compromise, which en- 
 tirely baffled that object. Wolsey had doubt- 
 less strong motives in the course he adopted. A 
 natural esprit de corps — the earnest supplications 
 of the clergy, who put every engine in motion 
 to prevent the scandal and detriment to their 
 power inevitable from a solemn adjudication of 
 the case — the proud prelate's wish to thwart 
 the hopes his enemies had conceived of obtain- 
 ing a complete triumph over him — for the first 
 time — - these were incentives to a contrary 
 policy. The obstinate resistance of the ac- 
 cused Treasurer, and the king's awakened 
 resolution, compelled some subterfuge. All 
 that Henry required Avas an act of submis- 
 sion to his authority, for he was readily brought 
 to believe, what might have been the case, 
 that the persons criminated were the victims of 
 an unfounded popular clamour. Accordingly, 
 the Treasurer being prevailed upon, though 
 with difficulty, to abandon his alleged clerical 
 immunity, and plead not guilty before the royal 
 judges — the lawyers who conducted the case
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 123 
 
 on behalf of the crown were instructed to admit 
 the plea, and withdraw the indictment. This 
 was done, to the great indignation of the Lon- 
 doners, with whom Wolsey was already very 
 far from popular, and who ascribed this nega- 
 tion of justice to his influence. 
 
 The citizens of London had, in other respects, 
 no great cause to hold the Cardinal in par- 
 ticular esteem in his capacity of prime minister 
 to the imperious Henry. He punished some 
 transgressions into which they had fallen, with 
 extreme severity; and in all his intercourse 
 with them conducted himself with a haughtiness 
 and arbitrary control, which, though enforcing 
 compliance, excited deep and lasting resent- 
 ment. He helped himself and his master very 
 liberally from their coffers, whenever the capri- 
 cious policies they pursued had exhausted 
 those of the state. The odium of all fell upon 
 the minister, whose despotic influence was 
 even exaggerated in the popular estimation, 
 and who, it was perceived or imagined, directed 
 the councils of England to views of personal 
 rather than of national advantage. The inspi- 
 ration of his policy was, in fact, held to be 
 exclusively his own passionate ambition to 
 ascend the chair of St, Peter. Now imperial, 
 now French, it was believed that Wolsey veered
 
 ] 24 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 from one to the other of those contending 
 powers, according to the estimate he formed of 
 which seemed likelier to aid him in achieving 
 this crowning object of clerical ambition. At 
 the period we treat' of, he had completed 
 the disgust and exasperation of the citizens by 
 forming a new French alliance, which it was 
 thought would eventuate in a war with the 
 Emperor Charles V. He had just returned 
 from a gorgeous embassy to France, during 
 which he was supposed to have secretly arranged 
 some such stipulation — one that could not but 
 be extremely distasteful to the Londoners, who 
 carried on a lucrative trade with the Emperor's 
 vast dominions. More especially, as the pro- 
 vocations to such a course were considered 
 strictly personal to Wolsey, who, after favour- 
 ing Charles in the colossal enterprises that had 
 ended, not long previously, in the capture of 
 Rome, was alleged to be driven on it purely by 
 anger at the Emperor's refusal to dethrone his 
 captive, Pope Clement VII., and raise himself 
 in his place. The projects of Henry, respect- 
 ing a divorce from his Queen, Katharine 
 of Aragon, were as yet scarcely suspected by 
 the people — who held her in a love and vene- 
 ration which would have greatly heightened 
 their aversion to the Cardinal's policy. Anne
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 125 
 
 Boleyn, though famous in the court for the 
 splendour of her beauty and wit, and the 
 king's marked notice, was as yet unheard of 
 out of it. And certainly, Wolsey, though bent 
 on the divorce, as necessary alike to his ven- 
 geance and elevation, never dreamed he was 
 paving the way for such a successor ! Never- 
 theless, the uneasiness of aU classes had, of 
 late, been excited, and the first portents of the 
 contest had appeared, in the circulation of a re- 
 port that it was found advisable to establish the 
 legitimacy of the Princess Mary, by the solemn 
 adjudication of a court which was to examine 
 the validity of her mother's marriage with a 
 prince who was the brother of her first hus- 
 band, Arthur, Prince of Wales. Some doubts 
 on this point, it was generally known, had been 
 mooted by the French ambassadors, in answer 
 to a proposal to wed the princess to the dauphin. 
 But as yet it was thought, merely with a view 
 to have all cavil on the subject set at rest, 
 preparatory to the alliance. 
 
 Roodspere had lost no time on his journey, 
 and he arrived within that assigned in his sum- 
 mons, in what was then the village of Charing 
 Cross. The despotic prelate's love of prompt 
 obedience was well known, and if only sus- 
 picions were entertained against him, might 
 
 2 M
 
 126 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 go far to obviate them. He had also resolved 
 to comply with the injunction contained in 
 Secretary Cromwel's missive, and seek an 
 interview with him in the first place. The 
 Reformers had some reason to hope that Crom- 
 wel bore a degree of favour to their views, 
 from the audacity he had displayed in his 
 patron's forays on the monastic property. But, 
 at all events, Roodspere deemed it advisable 
 not to neglect any means of illumination on 
 the dangerous and intricate path before him. 
 
 The traveller easily recognised Charing 
 Village by the lofty cross that marked the last 
 halting-place of the body of the beloved queen 
 of the first Edward, on its way to final repose 
 in Westminster Abbey. It was an octagonal 
 structure of two stages, raised upon a flight of 
 steps, in the centre of an extensive though 
 scattered group of farm-houses and cottages. 
 It was elaborately fretted with gothic orna- 
 ments, and surmounted by a cross, once richly 
 gilded, but then, like a ruined noble, pre- 
 serving its splendour chiefly in a name. The 
 Golden Cross was still its designation — with 
 little discoverable reason. But the building 
 formed a sort of market-place, where the far- 
 mers' wives of the Abbey vassalage assembled 
 to dispose of the lighter products of their
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATIOX. 127 
 
 holdings to the good citizens of London, who 
 met them there halfway. 
 
 The sight of this memorial of conjugal ten- 
 derness — this homage of love to death, and the 
 consecration they had combined to make of 
 their dread junction on earth — affected Rood- 
 spere with inexplicable emotion. With all the 
 fervour of his new convictions on dogmatic 
 points, he had never yet ventured to deem that 
 any lawful indulgence in the most beautiful 
 and powerful of human passions remained for 
 him ! Love was a forbidden word in the voca- 
 bulary of the young and desolate priest. His 
 studious life and strength of moral principle— 
 perhaps, also, the absence of any sufficient 
 stimulus to passions as pure and exalted as 
 they were vehement — had hitherto preserved 
 him from the contagion of the almost universal 
 profligacy with which the clergy belied the 
 professions they were compelled to make. The 
 memory of his mother stood like a warning 
 spectre beside the few temptations that crossed 
 the path of a recluse academic. Nevertheless, 
 the sight of this triumphal monument of a love 
 that died not with its object, and dared thus erect 
 a trophy in the sight of heaven and earth — stirred 
 some deep and innermost feeling in his nature, 
 and struck a more profound sense of desolation
 
 128 WESTMIKSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 into his heart. He passed on with a sigh that, 
 perhaps, commenced the struggle of his warm 
 and sympathetic heart with the isolating de- 
 crees of a church whose bondsman he had 
 become in the ignorance of childhood Then 
 traversing a series of marshy meadows and 
 fields, now forming St. James's Park, he arrived 
 before the battlemented enclosure of York 
 Place. 
 
 This was the name by which the future 
 palace of Whitehall was then known, as the 
 residence attached to the archbishopric of 
 York. Known to all England — we might 
 almost say, to all Europe — as the abode of the 
 potent minister whom circumstances and policy 
 had rendered the arbiter of their destinies ! 
 York Place was of very considerable extent, 
 the ancient gothic mansion of Hubert de Burgh 
 having received great additions from the Car- 
 dinal's architectural taste. At a subsequent 
 period it was found sufficient to lodge the im- 
 mense retinue of the English kings ; but was 
 not then too ample to accommodate that of a 
 subject who had risen from at most the inferior 
 middle classes of the people. A guard of tall 
 yeomen, also destined to be a legacy from an 
 ecclesiastic to the crown of England, kept 
 watch and ward round the precincts of the
 
 THE DAYS OF THE HEFORMATION. 129 
 
 palace. But the gates were open to all who 
 chose to enter. Ready attendants took charge 
 of Roodspere's steed — not, perhaps, without 
 some silent wonder at its scraggy appearance, 
 and the travel-stained garb of its o-svner. On 
 his inquiry for Master Cavendish, gentleman 
 usher of the Cardinal's privy chambers, these 
 also directed him into the great hall, or ante- 
 chamber of the palace, where he was at the 
 time, they said, engaged in the duties of his 
 office. 
 
 Much as Roodspere had heard and antici- 
 pated of Wolsey's magnificence, he was amazed, 
 on making his way to this apartment, to behold 
 the realization. As was usual in baronial resi- 
 dences, the hall was of great extent, and yet it 
 was crowded with a multitude of persons of all 
 ranks and conditions, awaiting to do homage 
 to the potent master — confounded in the vas- 
 salage of interest! It was no wonder, for Wol- 
 sey united in his single person all the great 
 offices of state, and dispensed their dignities 
 and rewards at his absolute pleasure. He was 
 in the zenith of his power, blazing unrivalled 
 as the solitary sun, in an apparently cloudless 
 sky of favour and success ! A narrow passage, 
 railed in with gilded ropes, and spread with 
 scarlet cloth, up the middle of the hall, marked
 
 130 "WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 the line the Cardinal would traverse through 
 this mob of suitors. Helmets and mitres, 
 plumed and tonsured heads, were indiscrimi- 
 nately mingled in the throngs that pressed 
 along those slight but magic lines of demar- 
 cation. Only the favoured individuals ad- 
 mitted to an audience were allowed to pass 
 them. But the great extent of the chamber 
 permitted a free circulation even among these 
 numerous groups ; and many diverted the 
 tedium of expectation by walking up and .down 
 the hall, engaged in grave or light discourse, 
 according to the mood of mind and business 
 that brought them thither. Others sate apart, 
 on benches placed in the recesses of the lofty 
 windows, anxiously watching the rest, or pre- 
 serving the dignity of higher rank and station 
 by the seclusion. But the most eager and 
 adventurous portion of the suitors, in a singular 
 variety of costumes, pressed about the doors 
 of a lofty screen that divided off the upper part 
 of the hall. Thence the Cardinal usually made 
 his appearance ; and his expectant worshippers 
 strove to establish themselves on points of 
 vantage about it, with all the impatience and 
 rudeness of a modern mob awaiting the open- 
 ing of some favourite place of entertainment. 
 Even the energetic interference of the ushers
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 131 
 
 who, armed with long white wands, used them 
 with little respect to persons, to keep order, 
 scarcely effected the purpose. 
 
 The proper household of the Cardinal 
 scarcely needed any addition. In all things 
 rivalling, or rather eclipsing, the state of his 
 royal master, he had officers and a retinue of 
 every grade, from a high chamberlain to a 
 yeoman of the pastry. Among his household 
 he also reckoned a number of young men of the 
 highest quality, who were educated under his 
 superintendence, and were proud to swell the 
 glory of his state by personal attendance. In 
 some cases, these noble domestics might be 
 considered as hostages of suspected sires and 
 families. But in the majority of instances they 
 were rather pledges of a servile devotion that 
 sought to flatter the pride of the puissant pre- 
 late, at any price. Nevertheless these young 
 nobles were educated with great care, in all the 
 accomplishments befitting their rank and ex- 
 pectations : it could not but be with too deep 
 a tinge of ecclesiastical discipline ; too slavish 
 a deference for the person and will of their 
 master. But there were counterbalancing ad- 
 vantages too great to be overlooked by the 
 rapacity and ambition of courtiers. The ad- 
 vantages of free access to the mighty Cardinal's
 
 132 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OK, 
 
 presence, and consequent opportunities of 
 attracting his notice and favour, gave scope to 
 parental emulation. The enjoyments of a 
 sumptuous home, and an ample share in all the 
 diversions of the court — the large resort of 
 strangers distinguished by any species of merit, 
 and the general kindness and affability of 
 Wolsey's manners, reconciled the young men 
 themselves to their glittering servitude. 
 
 Roodspere was not aware that he was ad- 
 dressing one of these high-born domestics in 
 the person of a gentleman, in the Cardinal's 
 livery of scarlet and black, whom he accosted, 
 to learn where Cavendish could be found. He 
 was a young man, gracefully though slenderly 
 made, with a handsome but saturnine visage, 
 nervously working at the lips and nostrils in 
 a manner indicative of an irresolute and melan- 
 choly character, not contradicted by the lan- 
 gour and almost gloom remarkable in his large 
 and deeply arched eyes. He was leaning with 
 folded arms against a projection of one of the 
 windows, in so profound a revery that he started 
 when Roodspere spoke to him. But he replied, 
 with great politeness, that Master Cavendish 
 had gone into the palace to announce the arrival 
 of the Lord Treasurer, and that if he pleased to
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATIOX. 133 
 
 tarry his return he would point him out to his 
 cognisance. 
 
 Roodspere returned his thanks, and had ex- 
 changed a few commonplace observations with 
 the stranger, when another made way towards 
 them, who was evidently none with the party 
 he had first addressed. The new comer was a 
 young cavalier, with the face and figure of an 
 Apollo, whose appearance realised the per- 
 fection of manly beauty in unison with courtly 
 elegance and grace. The browu hues of his 
 complexion, and his dark flowing hair, were 
 indeed somewhat at variance with this classical 
 ideal. But the brilliant sparkle in his eyes, 
 and the rich colour that flushed his cheeks — 
 evidently with vehemently excited feeling — 
 would not have misbecome the sun-god at the 
 moment when he prepared to pour his avenging 
 arrows of fire on the Grecian camp. His garb 
 exhibited the most elaborate splendour of the 
 times, and far exceeded anything Roodspere 
 had ever yet seen in the way of personal deco- 
 ration. His breeches, widely stufi'ed to coun- 
 terfeit a bulkiness made fashionable by the 
 massive person of Henry YHL, as well as his 
 doublet, were of amber-coloured satin, quilted 
 into a rich and complex pattern with gold 
 thread. His sleeves were of an enormous size, 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 134 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 puffed in half-a-dozen divisions, and, as was 
 also his cloak, were of orange-tawny velvet, 
 embroidered almost to the effacement of the 
 original stuff with 'gold. His high boots, of 
 white cordovan, broadening about the knees as 
 if intended to hold half-a-dozen limbs of the 
 calibre of those inserted, were like vases of 
 nosegays, so overflowing were they with curled 
 ribands of every hue and colour. A little cap, 
 of the brightest ruby velvet, set with an aigrette 
 of peacocks' feathers, shone like the gem 
 itself, by force of its rich^hue, on his head. A 
 laced handkerchief, doubtless some lady's 
 favour, was fastened with an air of defiance to 
 the pommel of his ornamented sword, as if to 
 provoke the envy and challenge of his rivals. 
 On the whole it would scarcely have been pos- 
 sible, even in that magnificent court, to have 
 produced a more glorious-looking cavalier. 
 But with all these florid externals it did not 
 appear that the courtly Apollo himself was in 
 very festive humour. His first greeting to 
 the noble servitor with whom Roodspere had 
 spoken, expressed as much. " So, my Lord 
 Percy ! I have buffeted my way to you at last. 
 Why stand you here moping like an owl in 
 the broad daylight ? I bring you a message 
 that brooks no more delay between pouring
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 135 
 
 and quaffing than the whizzing wines of 
 Champagne ! Nay, not a joyous one, unless 
 you take it so, for acceptance makes the value 
 of the gift ! " 
 
 " What canst thou bring me, dear George 
 Boleyn, from whence thou comest, doubtless, 
 but what is of most joyful significance to 
 me ?" returned the saturnine cavalier, with a 
 sudden beaming of animated expectation in 
 all his features. 
 
 " Why then, hearken ! It hath come to 
 this at last — that the lady you wot of is re- 
 solved to declare open war with her adver- 
 sary. And they who are not with her, she 
 swears, shall henceforth be held to be against 
 her !" said the handsome cavalier, addressed 
 as George Boleyn. The Lord Percy — as it 
 appeared the other was styled — grew pale as 
 death as these words were uttered, and stared 
 with aghast attention as the envoy continued. 
 " Yea, she commands that all who pretend to 
 be her servants and lovers, of whatsoever 
 degree, as they would escape her everlasting 
 resentment and displeasure, on the first 
 public occasion that ojffers itself, shall appear 
 before all the world wearing a marigold flower 
 on some conspicuous garniture — which hence- 
 forth she adopts as her cognisance and badge !"
 
 136 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 " A marigold flower ! Wherefore would 
 my lady wear a yellow flower ? Yellow is for 
 jealousy," replied Lord Percy, with visible 
 dismay and surprise. 
 
 " Wherefore ? Do you alone of all the 
 court know not the wherefore r" returned 
 Boleyn, with passionate vehemence. " Me- 
 thought it would have been the prime jest 
 among you of the Cardinal's vassalage here, 
 my Lord Percy ! Heard ye not how yester- 
 day, in the Antioch chamber, before the Queen 
 and all the court, saving his Grace, the Car- 
 dinal flouted my sister — likening her to the 
 marigold, that spreads its gaudy leaves so 
 broadly and boldly to the sun, as if to rival 
 as well as woo its beams ' — these were his 
 words — * that anon it sickens and withers 
 in the noontide glow, and at night is but a 
 feast for snails and caterpillars !' " 
 
 " I heard, indeed, that his grace likened 
 Mistress Anne to the marigold, but methought 
 it was but in the matter of her complexion, 
 which indeed resembles the golden brown of a 
 field of ripe corn, with the poppy deep down 
 in the glow for the rich hues on her cheeks !" 
 said Percy, with visible agitation. 
 
 " Nay, my lord, it was full well seen of all 
 who were present, that the Cardinal would
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOKMATION. 137 
 
 have it thought my sister woos her own dis- 
 honour with the king ! The queen herself 
 seemed to assent therein by a wintry smile she 
 gave, while all the women, who hate my 
 bright sister for eclipsing them into unno- 
 ticed darkness, laughed like a clutter of 
 sparrows flying at some glorious jay of the 
 woods that should sally forth in all its 
 spangled bravery !" returned George Boleyn. 
 
 "Quoth my lord so? — O George! and, 
 truly, is it not strange that ever since her 
 arrival in the court she has been so sharp a 
 pesterer of his grace, on whom I must depend 
 wholly for freedom ever to be hers ? — While 
 with the king, whose favour for her to win is 
 the very death of my hopes ! — with the king, 
 in very sooth, George, she is too lavish of her 
 company and witcheries if, as she would have 
 me think, she means me well !" said the Lord 
 Percy, with a vehemence of emotion that van- 
 quished for the moment his habitual timorous- 
 ness and caution. 
 
 " You have it in your o^vn power, had ye 
 the will, to cure yourself of all fears on that 
 score. Lord Percy !" replied Boleyn, with 
 equal warmth. " But well thou wottest, 
 Henry, that her sole purpose in seeking the 
 king's notice and favour is to win some 
 
 N 2
 
 138 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 powerful protection against the Cardinal's 
 malign aspect towards your plighted loves ! 
 The rest is nought but false leasings and in- 
 ventions of my bitter wife and her comates, 
 whose evil tongues, finding only charms and 
 perfections in my sister, do turn them also 
 against her ! Believe me — unless the Italian's 
 proverb stand, that a million lies make a truth 
 — there is no more in their report than of light 
 in the pit of hell ! The king loves music, and 
 mirth and minstrelsy — and of all my sister is 
 so sovereign a mistress that 'tis no marvel he 
 delights in her society — having also but so sad 
 a consort to amuse his leisure ! But for Anne 
 Boleyn to curry favour with the Cardinal, it is 
 not possible ! She cannot abide his puffed 
 pride and insolence — which, God he knows, 
 how others endure is more than an infinite 
 marvel ! And knowing, as she doth, how he 
 hath betrothed you to the Lady Mary Talbot 
 so rivetedly, it would seem, by his high and 
 mighty will and pleasure therein, that you dare 
 not even clank the chain lest you should 
 ascertain it is not so fixed to the dungeon 
 staple as married men find theirs !" 
 
 " I have hopes, if she would but give me 
 time, and second me by a humility and com- 
 pliance with my lord's humours ! But well
 
 THE DATS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 139 
 
 all men know he will endure no emulation in 
 his highness's favour, from any of whatsoever 
 degree or sex, much less one of the Norfolk 
 blood !" replied Percy. " If she would but 
 imitate your pliant father, George ! all would 
 go well anon." 
 
 " Why, what hath he gained by keeping 
 ever a willowy back to the wind ?" said young 
 Boleyn, scorn dilating all his handsome fea- 
 tures. " He has served your lord till it seems 
 he is past service — or else it is for his 
 daughter's sake the Cardinal deems so, who 
 hath advised him frankly to go to his sheep- 
 shearing in Kent ! Yet, by the passion of our 
 Lord ! were not your Cardinal the most jealous 
 dotard in Christendom, he would heed my 
 sister's quips and cranks no more than the 
 lordly bull the fluttering of a butterfly over his 
 pastures, when, belike, he raises his head, 
 stares for an instant, and then gi-azes on ! 
 But were I like thee, so great an earl's heir, I 
 would set as little store by a proud priest's 
 yea or nay as any of your ancestors of a 
 Scottish king's, whence would ride beyond the 
 border !" 
 
 " How can he sail whose ship yet grows in 
 the forest ? Or who hath his hunger sated 
 with the expectancy of a feast?" returned
 
 140 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 Percy, adding with a start, for his eye at that 
 moment encountered Eoodspere's ; " but, 
 hush ! here is one too nigh at hand, who may 
 overhear what is said, when there is an end, 
 indeed, to all hope !" 
 
 " Nay, my Lord Percy, for I have purposed 
 all along that he should ! It is an open war, I 
 tell you, now ! and methinks a beggarly clerk's 
 robe assures us of a certain espial to his 
 grace !" said George Boleyn, in a high and 
 haughty tone, and looking at Roodspere with 
 an expression of defiance and contempt. 
 Percy also gazed at him, but with a very dif- 
 ferent one, of alarm and almost of supplication 
 in his eye. 
 
 " Nay, sirs, ye need dread none espial in 
 me — I have more reason to fear such on my 
 own behalf," replied Roodspere, without ap- 
 pearing to notice either demonstration. " I 
 have heard as little of your discoui'se as I 
 could hinder myself, being firmly wedged into 
 this niche, and, as I thought, in too public a 
 presence to run risk of overhearing secrets. 
 But, be it as it may, I shall report none. I am 
 a poor scholar of Cambridge who have no 
 concern nor understanding in court matters, 
 nor desire any." 
 
 " For my part, thou hast good leave to
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 141 
 
 report all thou hast heard ; I will deny nothing 
 I have said. I trust it is not treason yet to 
 wear a lady's favour, and be proud of it — as I 
 will, anon, in every presence, wear the mari- 
 gold !" said Boleyn, with impetuosity ; but con- 
 tinuing, in a tone in which it was difficult to say 
 whether jest or earnest predominated, " So, 
 you are of Cambridge, master scholar ? I trust 
 then you are not tainted with learned Bilney's 
 plague, and come among us to be medicined 
 with fire?" 
 
 Roodspere was rather surprised at the tone 
 of this remark, and still more at the eager 
 and inquiring gaze fixed upon him by the 
 handsome cavalier, which seemed to seek 
 some signs of mystic recognition, such as the 
 ancient adepts might have exchanged, in his 
 countenance. 
 
 " If I had caught Bilney's malady, mayhap 
 his remedies might yet not serve to my cure !" 
 he replied, with a significance not lost upon 
 either of the previous interlocutors. 
 
 *' Why then, if you are one of Bilney's men, 
 are you summoned before the Legate's Court, 
 to be purged of your iniquity ?" said Percy, 
 shrinking back as if from the approach of a 
 literal contagion. 
 
 " I am a friend of Bilney's. I have been
 
 142 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 his pupil in the Greek and Hebrew, but what 
 mine iniquity therein may be, I am yet to 
 learn," replied Roodspere ; but still rather 
 addressing himself to the young lord's com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Why, then, if your leisure should serve for 
 such a purpose, I would fain learn from you 
 what it is that Bilney hath said and done to 
 put our black cattle in such a turmoil, as if a 
 hornet were in all their tails !" said George 
 Boleyn. " I should be glad to see you, mas- 
 ter scholar, in a poor house, which an angry 
 goodwife I have sometimes permits me to call 
 mine own, in the Strand." 
 
 " I know not what liberty of acceptance 
 may remain to me ! Whether the Cardinal — 
 whether I have not in somewise have offended so 
 as to make my visitation the less to be desired, 
 sir !" said Roodspere, somewhat confusedly. 
 
 . " Oh, the master of my house doth not 
 ask the legatine court's pleasure as to who 
 shall be welcome therein ! But, perhaps, you 
 are in danger of seeing the inside of the 
 Lollard's Tower at Paul's, or of the Gate- 
 house of Westminster, first r" replied Boleyn, 
 carelessly in tone, but emphatically in look. 
 
 " Tut, George ! his business is with the gen- 
 tleman of the privy chambers, and lo ye where
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BEFOEMATION. 143 
 
 he comes! This is Master Cavendish, sir!" 
 interrupted Lord Percy, with manifest uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 " But he hath other business, meseems, at 
 this moment ! Oh, by St. Venus, he is 
 hastening him to meet a flutter of nuns at the 
 gate — who have affairs, doubtless, with the 
 Legate's Court !" said George Boleyn ; and 
 indeed, as he spoke, the historical official 
 mentioned bustled so hastily past along the 
 reserved way, that Lord Percy failed in an 
 effort to attract his attention. And veritably 
 Cavendish's object appeared to be to receive a 
 rather numerous procession of nuns, in the 
 black and white Benedictine robes, and closely 
 veiled, who now made their appearance within 
 the great folding doors of the hall. With a 
 deference paid either to their sex or to some 
 occult protection. Master Cavendish admitted 
 them also into the pale kept for the Cardinal's 
 passage, and returned, ceremoniously escort* 
 ing the group along the line. They passed 
 Roodspere and the cavaliers with whom he 
 was in confabulation, who had thus an 
 opportunity of observing that it consisted of 
 about a dozen cloisteresses, headed by a lady 
 of a tall and portly figure, who seemed to be 
 the superioress, and was probably abbess or
 
 144 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 prioress of some wealthy community, by the 
 respectful style of her reception, and the 
 general appearance of herself and retinue. 
 Indeed, she had adopted in her array all the 
 luxury and ornament in any manner consistent 
 with conventual costume. Her robes were, it is 
 true, of black stuff, but were of the finest 
 woof, and her under vestment, wimple, and 
 veil, were of the richest silver lace instead of 
 plain linen. She w^ore a rosary of goldsmith's 
 work, at her girdle, of which a queen might 
 have been proud, and carried a crosier of 
 wrought silver with as much stateliness as if 
 it had been a sceptre. 
 
 The rest of the nuns wore the sombre habit 
 of their order, also in extremely fine materials, 
 and very possibly of their own manufacture. 
 But among them was the figure of what 
 appeared to be a young girl about seventeen, 
 who being dressed altogether in white, was 
 evidently a novice not yet professed, or only 
 so far as enabled her to assume the first, or 
 white veil, of probation. The slender beauty 
 and grace of the form that appeared in this 
 snowy costume, like a lily amid the dark 
 reeds and bulrushes of a standing pool, 
 attracted general observation — and especially 
 that of the three young men who were watch-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 145 
 
 ing the advance of the group. And some 
 likelihood seemed offered of a more distinct 
 survey, for at a little distance farther on, 
 Cavendish invited the nuns to enter one of the 
 numerous arched window bays in the hall, 
 set like the cells of a honeycomb along the 
 walls. These formed convenient waiting- 
 rooms, only allowed to favoured individuals, 
 being separated by gilded railings from the 
 pressure and movement in the main approach, 
 The one in which the nuns were now ushered 
 was nearly opposite to Roodspere's station. 
 
 *' Marry, what goodly magpie sisterhood is 
 this ? Canst thou tell us, Percy, who art first 
 page of the body to his ail-but holiness the 
 Legate ?" said George Boleyn, after a brief 
 scrutiny of the train. 
 
 " It is Dame Juliana Brocas, the Prioress of 
 Clerkenwell," replied Percy. " Of that I am 
 as well assured as a man can be of a veiled 
 visage, for 'tis not her first visit hither. Yet 
 she cleared herself passing well heretofore. 
 What can be her summons here to-day?" 
 
 " I will tell you, Harry Lackadaisy, as one 
 who should know, being so bosomed in the 
 abbey secrets as I am, whereof Clerkenwell 
 nunnery is a sufi'ragan priory ! " said the voice 
 of a fourth speaker, who now joined the three 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 146 WESTMINSTEJB ABBEY; OR, 
 
 previous interlocutors. He was about their 
 own age, of a stalwart person and commanding 
 features, and evidently of distinction, but with 
 a haggard and dissolute expression, doubtless 
 achieved in a long course of licentious indul- 
 gence. These traits were not unsuited to the 
 style of his costume, which was of soiled and 
 tarnished stuflfs, yet had been originally of the 
 richest materials, and profusely ornamented 
 with jewels and embroidery. But only traces 
 where these had been plucked off remained to 
 testify their former presence. Altogether the 
 new arrivant had the air of some desperate 
 adventurer, whom a career of profligacy and 
 extravagance had reduced from a proud station 
 to one of almost abject destitution and reck- 
 lessness. 
 
 *' Well, what brings my lady prioress among 
 us to day, Bigod ? " said George Boleyn, 
 adding with a satirical smile, "It may be in- 
 finitely to the bettering of thy fortunes if she 
 be the lady of whom we have heard in the 
 court, in whose service (^clambering the ivy on 
 the nunnery walls!) a knight of St. John broke 
 his neck of late. Thou hast but to muster 
 some of the looks with which ye won the 
 French ladies at the Field of the Cloth -of
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 147 
 
 Gold, where I have heard you say you carried 
 two of your best manors on your back." 
 
 " Curses on the Field of the Cloth-of-Gold ! 
 — and on the Jew villains that lent me the money 
 to make a gorgeous fool of myself there with 
 the rest, and would now squeeze the marrow 
 out of my bones to pay their usuries !" returned 
 the person addressed by the name of Bigod, 
 with something of fury in his tones. 
 
 " Why dost thou not rather curse the haught 
 upstart, to swell whose peacock pride — " 
 began Boleyn, when Percy interrupted him 
 with alarmed precipitation. " George, art 
 thou mad ? The Cardinal owes my Lord Bigod 
 thanks for his duteous service there, and will 
 doubtless make him his losses good some day." 
 
 "Dost thou think, dear lad, he will ever 
 give me the lieutenancy of Calais, for which I 
 besiege him day and night? " said Lord^Bigod, 
 for such it seemed was his title, who was, 
 doubtless, one of those nobles whom the osten- 
 tation or policy of Wolsey had led into extra- 
 vagances, in the famous interview between 
 Henry VIII. and Francis I., which for ever 
 afterwards crippled their means, and reduced 
 them to his dependence. 
 
 " Ay ! when his grace no longer finds the 
 revenues of Calais of use in his own treasury ;
 
 148 WESTillNSTER ABEET ; OK, 
 
 and if thou canst unmake thyself, and cease to 
 be thy mutinous brother of the Abbey's brother," 
 said George Boleyn, with a derisive laugh. 
 
 " I would I could, so that the dead halt 
 were made by him," returned the affectionate 
 relative. 
 
 " Nay, man alive ! It were enough if thou 
 couldst win thy saintly brother to a submis- 
 sion," remonstrated Percy. 
 
 " It is impossible ; he will listen to no 
 reason," said Lord Bigod, with angry vehe- 
 mence. 
 
 " What concern have reason and thou to- 
 gether, that thou shouldst urge aught in her 
 behalf with thy brother, Prior Sancgraal ? " 
 said Boleyn, smiling. 
 
 " This much— that the Cardinal doth all 
 but promise me the lieutenancy of Calais, if 
 I can win the peevish fellow to a submission. 
 And what can be more unreasonable than for 
 a man who hath resigned his birthright, and 
 all other his possessions, in favour of a younger 
 brother, to scruple to grant him a little favour, 
 which would yet crown all the rest at last ? Is 
 he not a saint, and is not his profession, more- 
 over, humility and self-denial ? But his eyes 
 iiamed like a demon's, v/hen I but proposed 
 the thing. He called me a worser Cain, who
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMATIOX. 149 
 
 would destroy his brother's soul ! All but 
 spurned me out of his cell, and bidding me go 
 like the reptile I was, and lick the dust of the 
 feet of him who had crushed me into it, said 
 that the janitors should have orders not to 
 admit me again into the Abbey, and so mshed 
 me an eternal God speed to the devil ! I was 
 so vexed when I came out — so adry with rage 
 — that I ran like a mad dog into the Sanctuary, 
 to St. Julian's, swallowed a bucket of some kind 
 of wash, and lost the ducats you lent me, 
 George, at tables with a big, swearing deserter 
 of the wars, who vowed to all the fiends he had 
 parted with his inheritance, as I had done, to 
 swell the Cardinal's pomp, in the fields between 
 Ardres and Guines." 
 
 *' What quarrel hath the Cardinal with Prior 
 Sancgraal?" said George Boleyn. " Is it the 
 old matter about the suppressed monksties ?" 
 
 " All manner of matters ! But what lacks 
 this whey-faced clerk, who stands gaping at 
 us so earnestly?" said Lord Bigod, ob- 
 serving Iloodspere for the first time. 
 
 " I was awaiting, sir — if you speak of me — 
 to learn for what cause these ladies of Clerken- 
 well attend the legate's court ?" returned Rood- 
 spere, overlooking the insulting tone of the 
 
 o 2
 
 150 TVESTMINSTEE ABBEY J OE, 
 
 speech, in an apparently very anxious desire 
 for the information thus solicited. 
 
 "St. Venus! they have thrown bacK their 
 veils ! And, good troth, yonder novice is as 
 sweet a blushet as ever mine eyes alighted 
 on !" exclaimed Boleyn, with sudden vivacity. 
 The two young lords and himself then first 
 noticed a spectacle which had been for some 
 time riveting Roodspere's attention. 
 
 The nuns had been comfortably ensconced 
 by Cavendish's care in one of the recesses 
 mentioned above, where the prioress and some 
 of her attendants were furnished with seats. 
 The novice reverently took a station behind 
 the chair of her superior, and for several 
 minutes all was silence and timid observation 
 among the recluse bevy thus suddenly brought 
 into the full glare of the world. But by and 
 by they began to exchange remarks ; a buzz of 
 conversational whispers arose like the murmur 
 of bees in a hive, and once or twice the light 
 flutter of a laugh was audible among the gentle 
 group. Then, as it seemed, finding their 
 veils too close in the crowded atmosphere of 
 the hall, the prioress gave a general permis- 
 sion, perhaps command, to remove them. 
 Herself authorised the exposition by example, 
 and throwing back her veil revealed the plump
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOKMATIOK. 151 
 
 high-coloured visage of a handsome woman of 
 middle age, who was certainly by no means 
 ignorant of her own advantages. The glance 
 of a pair of sufficiently bright but bold and 
 roving eyes, after wandering for a period 
 among the crowded assemblage, singled Kood- 
 spere out, and for some reason or another con- 
 tinually reverted to him. But he speedily for- 
 got to take any notice of the circumstance. His 
 gaze and indeed his entire faculties became 
 absorbed in another contemplation. 
 
 With the implicit obedience of the cloister, 
 the nuns imitated the action of their superior. 
 The young novice also ; and Roodspere's atten- 
 tion, already attracted towards her by a vague 
 sentiment of compassion, was at once riveted 
 by the exquisite and touching character of the 
 beauty thus displayed, with all the unconscious* 
 ness of virgin modesty. 
 
 Never before had the young reformer's gaze 
 lighted on so fair an apparition of female love- 
 liness, even in those dreams which visited his 
 youthful slumbers, and haunted him wakingly, 
 in spite of his conviction of the superstitious 
 nature of his thraldom, with associations of 
 remorse and dread. A girl in the earliest 
 years of womanhood was before him, shining 
 like a sun- clad seraph, in the vivid illumination
 
 152 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 of the vast window — the exquisite outline of 
 whose features was matched by the lovely 
 bloom of a complexion which, in delicacy and 
 warmth of colour, resembled a lily fraught 
 with the rosy glow of a summer sunset. An 
 incarnate lily, indeed, she seemed in her virgin 
 modesty and sweetness, bending with cloistral 
 humility and bashfulness over the prioress's 
 chair, in her snowy robes ! By a trick of the 
 same natural association, the clustering ringlets 
 of her light golden hair seemed like the curling 
 of the honeysuckle on its scented tendrils 
 round her blush-rose visage. But it was not 
 merely the beauty of the young novice that 
 fascinated Roodspere's gaze — nor even the 
 divine light of purity and youth that environed 
 her with a kind of lustrous halo. It seemed 
 to him that there was something familiar and 
 yet unknown to him in the features of her face 
 — as if he had seen it in some previous state of 
 existence, in some platonic world of the past ! 
 Full of this puzzling thought, he gazed so 
 earnestly on the youthful novice, that her eyes 
 were compelled, by the strange fascination ex- 
 ,ercised with those wonderful orbs, to encounter 
 his. The glance from the clear blue liquid 
 depths thus disturbed still more startled Rood- 
 spere, and though he perceived that the novice's
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOBMITIOX. 153 
 
 lovely colour deepened to the glow of a carnation 
 with modest surprise, and that her gaze sunk 
 from his, and arose not again, he could not 
 withdraw his observation until Bigod's excla- 
 mation broke the spell. 
 
 Nevertheless, the baronial spendthrift, in a 
 few words, explained the mystery. 
 
 " By St. Botolph of Bigod !" he vociferated 
 almost loud enough to be heard on the opposite 
 side of the chamber by the nuns themselves, 
 " this must be stout old Sir Amias Paulet's 
 orphan heiress, about whom the chief wrangle 
 now is between my brother and the Cardinal's 
 court, and concerning whom my lady prioress 
 of Clerkenwell is doubtless in question to-day ! 
 Sancgraal and his nuns have bewitched her 
 into the notion that she can only save her soul 
 by becoming one of them, and the Cardinal is 
 mad to see a wealthy ward of his court of 
 chancery snatched out of his hand and gift 
 under such crafty religious shows, that he can- 
 not very churchmanly gainsay it." 
 
 Roodspere then comprehended, with a 
 sudden rush of emotions to his heart, that it 
 was a daughter's resemblance to the doughty 
 lord of Hinton St. George, whom he scarcely 
 knew whether to remember as a persecutor or 
 a protector, which had thus caught and per-
 
 154 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 plexed his attention. He recollected imme- 
 diately that Sir Amias had an only child, and 
 that it was supposed to add to the asperity of 
 his temper that it was a female one. But the 
 young heiress was still an infant when her 
 sire's misfortunes compelled him to reside at a 
 distance from his estates. It now appeared 
 that he was dead, and had left this orphan to 
 the contention of those whom in his life he 
 had most hated and despised. O death ! in- 
 deed but thou art powerless !
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 155 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 
 
 He was a man 
 Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking 
 Himself with princes ; one, that by suggestion, 
 Ty'd all the kingdom. Simony was fair play ; 
 
 His own opinion was his law 
 
 Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
 The clergy ill example. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The longer Roodspere gazed on the novice's 
 sweet visage, the more clearly did he recognise 
 the noble Paulet features, softened and, as it 
 were, spiritualised, into a peculiar kind of 
 beauty which suggested the thought to him 
 that, if the great races of men had indeed 
 their planetary angels, the orphan inheritrix 
 of the proud name of the lords of Hinton 
 might well be taken for that of her own 
 departing lineage. A thousand associations 
 of his own sorrowful childhood returned with 
 the mere sound of that name ; but now, by some 
 strange magic, they seemed divested of their
 
 156 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 saddest hues, like dark clouds that silver in all 
 their skirts as they pass the moon. What new 
 light was this in Roodspere's soul that shed 
 so balmy an effulgence on those painful and 
 thronging recollections of the past r 
 
 The eyes of the youthful novice meanwhile 
 never reverted to Roodspere's fixed and fasci- 
 nated gaze. She stood patiently as a wingless 
 seraph behind the prioress's chair, her long 
 eyelashes pencilling her fair cheek, and sha- 
 dowing their blue and humid depths like the 
 golden reeds skirting a translucent lake. Yet 
 the electricity of the glance she had encoun- 
 tered spent not all its force in that brief 
 concussion. A glow of fire lingered on the 
 novice's cheek, her lips quivered, and Rood- 
 spere felt that she was aware he still gazed 
 on ! And gaze on he did, in spite of extreme 
 dread that he might off'end — the certainty that 
 he was adding to her timidity and embarrass- 
 ment ; in spite of a secret consciousness that 
 he was accumulating materials for anguish 
 and regret in his own heart. His whole frame 
 seemed gradually to awaken to a new and mar- 
 vellous vitality. A sensation more overpower- 
 ingly delicious than any he had ever yet 
 experienced glided through all his veins — into 
 his very marrow — with the subtle thrill of the
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 157 
 
 element to which the imagination of lovers 
 has so often likened their delusive bliss ! Yet 
 was this rich emotion fraught with almost as 
 intense a sentiment of sorrow and hopelessness. 
 It was like a glimpse into Eden caught by a 
 condemned spirit through the eternal bars ! 
 A vague apprehension haunted him even as he 
 gazed, resembling that of the storm- environed 
 traveller contemplating a rainbow, whose aerial 
 tints he fears will melt into their native heaven 
 ere he can fix their lovely hues in his vision — 
 and so leave him to a deeper desolation and 
 despair. 
 
 While thus absorbed, Roodspere's ideas 
 were, nevertheless, painfully distracted by the 
 conversation the young nobles with whom he 
 had spoken continued among themselves. The 
 licentious Bigod broadly avowed that he was 
 laying himself out to catch the attention of the 
 prioress, who, it seemed, enjoyed a reputation 
 not altogether discouraging to such imperti- 
 nence. The church had ruined him, he said 
 with his reckless audacity, and it was but meet 
 that she should now lend some succour to his 
 grievous necessities ! On the other hand, 
 George Boleyn, with a more poetical apprecia- 
 tion, ran wild in his expressions of admiration 
 of the young novice, and vivaciously, though 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 158 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 certainly with no lack of serious goodwill to 
 the task, discussed the possible means of car- 
 rying off so sweet a prize from the same 
 much-abused personification. " For I'll be 
 sworn," Roodspere was shocked to hear him 
 say, " that the church — which means the 
 Cardinal — who hath still his colt's tooth in his 
 head, will not see her without having his lips 
 set watering ! Yet for the monks to win her 
 from him, and shut her up in four walls, as if 
 the Lord were a Babylonish soldan who would 
 keep his lemans safe, it were a full foul shame 
 to all christian chivalry !" 
 
 Percy endeavoured, but with little success, 
 to change the current of this wild discourse. 
 " Talk you thus," George," he exclaimed, 
 " when you have scarcely been my Lady 
 Wingfield's sworn servant a month's space, 
 counted by the swiftest almanac of lovers' 
 sighs ?" 
 
 " Long enough for any folly to last!" re- 
 turned the gay cavalier. " But for the blus- 
 tering threats of her foolish husband, I could 
 be nigh tempted to cast this embroidered ker- 
 chief she guerdoned me withal, to the winds, 
 and take up with pure maiden w'hite for 
 awhile ! Thy colours will be piebald, Bigod ; 
 mine shall be the vestal snow !"
 
 THE DATS OF THE EEFORMATION. 159 
 
 *' They were soon soiled with such wear- 
 ing !" said Roodspere, with a sudden ebullition 
 of indignant feeling. He was too little accus- 
 tomed to the manners of the profligate courts 
 of the age to be aware how much of this con- 
 fabulation was to be taken for persiflage, and 
 the light current vein of courtly raillery. 
 
 " In very sooth, master scholar, my ladies 
 are not long unkind : I would they were, for 
 the chief pleasure of the lovechase, methinks, 
 lies in the pursuit," returned Boleyn, a dis- 
 dainful smile at this clerical reproof over- 
 spreading his superbly handsome face. " But 
 go to, man ! why art thou angry ? Thou hast 
 scant hope, methinks, to come between the 
 lion and the jackal for the prey, that thou 
 shouldst rebuke the subtle leopard for creeping 
 through the bushes on it, if he may ! Yet, by 
 Dian's curd-white visage, my lady prioress 
 beckons to you ! How ! are ye old acquaint- 
 ances ? List, list how she sings to you with 
 her eyes," he concluded, in a melodious under- 
 song — 
 
 " Kiss me for old acquaintance sake ; 
 Sweetheart, that once wert mine !" 
 
 Roodspere, indeed, now observed that Dame 
 Juliana made him an emphatic signal to cross
 
 160 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 to the recess, where she sate in state. Whether 
 she mistook the object of his sedulous obser- 
 vation, the novice being posted immediately 
 behind her chair, or had some particular reason 
 for the summons, he did not pause to reflect. 
 Without, indeed, a moment's hesitation, he 
 ventured to raise the rope fencing the 
 reserved way, and traversed the intervening 
 space, luckily without exciting the animad- 
 version of the white -wanded officials who 
 preserved decorum in the assemblage. The 
 prioress's proceedings, however, seemed not 
 altogether to meet the approbation of her own 
 retinue. It was pretty obvious that one of 
 the nuns made some remonstrance. This 
 was a severe, formal-looking woman, whose 
 meridian of ill-favouredness — for beauty she 
 could never have possessed any — was long 
 passed. A narrow-minded and malignant 
 expression pervaded her pinched and withered 
 features, while the short bluish hairs that 
 decked her upper lip, and her mottled com- 
 plexion, gave her a haggish and witch-like 
 look very much in consonance with the name 
 it appeared she had adopted as her conventual 
 one, " Sister Barbara ! you are to remember 
 that I, and not you, am prioress of the poor 
 foundation of our Lady of the Assumption, of
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 161 
 
 Glerkenwell, and, though unworthy, am 
 thereby the fittest to regulate the conduct to 
 be observed of all under its rule and govern- 
 ance, mine own surely in especial included !" 
 the prioress was saying, in raised and angry 
 tones, as Roodspere arrived. Sister Barbara 
 turned with a vexed look, and whispered 
 something to the novice, who immediately 
 began to tell her beads with an air of implicit 
 submission and devotion. 
 
 The excitement of the rebuke she had found 
 it necessary to administer — or some other 
 reason — heightened the prioress's complexion 
 to the crimson hues of the peony when Rood- 
 spere reached her presence. She hastened to 
 explain the reason of the summons she had 
 ventured, she modestly observed, to give him — 
 and they proved very fitting ones. She said 
 that, perceiving his clerical garb, she had ven- 
 tured to solicit his countenance and protection 
 towards some poor religious women unaccus- 
 tomed to the world — very bats in the daylight 
 — who had been compelled to quit the shadows 
 of their cloister, unwillingly, in obedience to 
 the superiors God had placed over them, and 
 make their appearance in that unfit locality. 
 With, perhaps, some secret purpose of ascer- 
 taining who he was, the prioress then skil- 
 
 p 2
 
 162 WESTMINSTER ABBEY J OE, 
 
 fully added a request, if he was of the car- 
 dinal's retinue, that he would kindly hasten 
 Master Cavendish's return with tidings of when 
 they might expect to be admitted to his grace's 
 gracious presence — whither they were sum- 
 moned, Dame Juliana added with no feigned 
 expression of dismay, on a very troublesome 
 business, the issue of which was extremely 
 doubtful, and full of harassment. 
 
 Roodspere expressed his sympathy with this 
 latter announcement, and the pleasure he 
 should have experienced in being of any ser- 
 vice to so honourable a lady and her commu- 
 nity. But he confessed that he himself was 
 only a poor Cambridge scholar, who had also 
 business with the legate's court, which he 
 might possibly find equally vexatious. Mean- 
 while, he respectfully intreated to know what 
 the occasion of their presence and annoyance 
 might be, as he was possessed of some skill in 
 the canon law, and might, perhaps, offer some 
 suggestion worthy of notice on any point in 
 debate. This was enough ; the prioress replied 
 with a whole torrent of information. " Alack, 
 alack ! we are fallen into my lord legate's 
 displeasure, gentle master, on account of our 
 young novice here, Lily- Virgin, who hath hid- 
 den herself, after her simple wont, behind me,
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATlON. 163 
 
 for I see her not," she replied. " Master clerk, 
 she hath a call to a devote and singular life in our 
 poor nunnery of St. Mary — which the cardinal's 
 grace will by no means be brought to allow. 
 And so we are all called into question and 
 trouble on her account, as if we should have 
 used unlawful arts and devices to win her to 
 her said holy and religious purpose ! " 
 
 Roodspere's reply was of an unexpected 
 nature. His aversion to monasticism, in all 
 its forms, would at any time have rendered the 
 spectacle of an intended sacrifice of the kind 
 distasteful to him. But it was peculiarly so 
 in this instance. 
 
 " Why, in truth, reverend lady," he replied, 
 with emotion, " in very truth, is not this 
 youthful maiden too young, and ignorant of her 
 own inclinings, and of the world she relin- 
 quishes, to be able to form as yet a ripe and 
 fitting judgment on so important a decision, 
 that consigns an entire existence to solitude 
 and useless abnegation ? As if God made his 
 loveliest creations — the flower and essences of 
 humanity — to be immured from the light — to 
 wither in unseen neglect — their beauty and 
 fragrance wasted on dull cold cloister walls I — 
 perchance to be profaned to unhallowed uses,
 
 164 WESTMINSTEB ABBEY ; OS, 
 
 even as magicians and sorcerers work their 
 spells with holy and else sanative herbs ?" 
 
 The novice raised her eyes, floating in a 
 golden humidity of unshed tears, with an 
 expression of astonishment. Sister Barbara 
 looked at the prioress with one of silent but 
 severe reproof. But Dame Juliana herself 
 seemed rather pleased and flattered than other- 
 wise. " You are right, master clerk ! " she 
 observed. " I was myself much too young 
 when I took upon me the obligations of our 
 holy order, awhile agone ! and so I often tell 
 our Lily of the Virgin, and do exhort her in all 
 things to be conformable to the will of our most 
 excellent lord and vicar of Christ's vicar, the 
 cardinal!" 
 
 " Methought the sweet lady's name was 
 Mary ? The Lady Mary, I do remember me, 
 we of her father's vassalage were wont to call 
 our infant heiress at Hinton St. George !" said 
 Roodspere. 
 
 The young novice started, and looked at 
 Roodspere with a sudden and vividly excited 
 interest. These names, it was evident, exer- 
 cised also upon her the spell of old association. 
 And a word, a sound, in the most remote and 
 dissevered scenes will, indeed, at times strike 
 upon the chords of the heart like the key-note
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 165 
 
 of some forgotten strain which revives the whole 
 harmony. In very sweet, though low and 
 tremulous tones, the novice observed, " Me- 
 thought, indeed, master clerk, I had seen you 
 ere now — may it be that you are he that was a 
 little lad at my father's warren-lodge, who 
 had the tame deer which he found a wounded 
 fawn beside its dead dam in the forest ? " 
 
 It was even so : and to the astonishment, 
 and possibly the chagrin, of the high dame 
 who had been the unconscious instrument in 
 bringing about this reunion, the youthful Lady 
 of Hinton and her vassal's grandson fell as 
 naturally as might be into an interchange of 
 reminiscences connected with a period when 
 one was a mere infant and the other but a 
 child of maturer years, yet which both seemed 
 distinctly to recal in the minutest particulars. 
 Remembering the favour in which his grand- 
 sire was held by Sir Amias Paulet, and the 
 latter's frequent visits to his gamekeeper's 
 lodge, Roodspere himself was not surprised to 
 find the youthful lady was familiar with his 
 name, and even preserved so distinct a recol- 
 lection of the branded and fearstruck rustic, 
 who had scarcely ever dared to raise his eyes 
 in presence of his severe lord ! Sister Barbara 
 wearied much sooner than the young natives
 
 166 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 of Hinton St. George of this harmless exchange 
 of recognition. " Daughter Lily !" she inter- 
 rupted, with sudden asperity, " for she hath 
 bidden adieu, sir, to this worldly though most 
 blessed name of Mary with which you salute 
 her — daughter Lily- Virgin! you should not 
 need now to be taught that the young betrothed 
 of our Lord are not to speak thus freely with 
 every stranger and wayfarer who may enter 
 into discourse with them ! — More especially 
 being where we are, and having good cause to 
 misdoubt of evil in the fairest shows that may 
 be offered to us here !" 
 
 " Peace, sister ! — you talk most unadvisedly 
 — but I am allowed no good rule in my com- 
 munity, and bear only the penalties of misde- 
 meanour — Lo ye, here comes Master Caven- 
 dish!" said the prioress, very pettishly ; so that 
 it was perhaps fortunate — though Roodspere 
 did not think so — that the gentleman-usher, so 
 designated, arrived on the scene of action at 
 this moment. 
 
 At the approach of the functionary, Rood- 
 spere remarked that the prioress — whose eyes 
 had nearly all the time dwelt upon himself 
 with a steadiness that greatly embarrassed 
 him — cast down her eyelids with an almost 
 ludicrous expression of modest humility and
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 167 
 
 unconnection with what was passing in the 
 bustling scene around. But Cavendish was too 
 much absorbed in his own flourishing cogita- 
 tions to notice that his arrival was not a sub- 
 ject of universal satisfaction. 
 
 " Forsooth, my Lady of Clerkenwell," he 
 said, with an air of infinite felicitation, 
 " rather than to cherish apprehensions of his 
 grace's displeasure, you should assure yourself 
 of standing better in his good favour than the 
 most potent peers and nobles in all this glo- 
 rious realm ! My lord will speak with you as 
 soon as he has dismissed the Bishop of Lin- 
 coln, the king's highness's confessor, who is 
 with him on a special business of the state 
 that brooks of no delay. Meanwhile, I am to 
 escort you to the privy chambers, where such 
 preparation of banquet, music, and other fes- 
 tivity is made for you as might content his 
 royal majesty's own visitation! And, more- 
 over, his grace gives no other audience this 
 day — and purposes not to quit his palace, but 
 to yield him wholly to mirth and solace as 
 with very pleasing and honoured guests. The 
 high chamberlain, Sir Harry Guildford, hath 
 it in charge to deliver so much to this wor-* 
 shipful attendance — among whom, as ye may 
 well espy, are my Lords of Norfolk and Suf-
 
 168 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 folk, and the Abbot of Lichfield, in full ponti- 
 ficals, fuming like the grains of a brewage for 
 an audience, and shall get none !— And who 
 are you, fair sir, who gaze at me thus earnestly ?" 
 
 Much surprised with what he heard, Rood- 
 spere nevertheless replied, without hesitation, 
 that he had received instructions to attend 
 upon Master Secretary Cromwel at that hour, 
 and desired to know whether his honour was 
 at liberty to receive a stranger ? The gentle- 
 man-usher elevated his eyebrows, and looked 
 at the querent with very considerable doubt 
 and interrogatory. Roodspere's shabby scho- 
 lar's garb, much travel-stained and disordered, 
 struck on his courtly observation with, it was 
 obvious, no very favourable effect. But a 
 recollection seemed suddenly to strike him. 
 *' Forsooth, if it be so that you are of Cam- 
 bridge, and your name Roodspere, Master 
 Secretary has given me a strict command con- 
 cerning you, and will most gladly welcome 
 you ! Follow with my ladies of Clerkenwell, 
 and I will take you where you may abide his 
 leisure." 
 
 " So, Master Cavendish ! what ails my lord 
 cardinal, that we shall not even have the divi- 
 sion of a frowning glance among us to-day ?" 
 interposed a voice ; and to Roodspere's great
 
 THE DAYS OF THE UEFOEMATION. 169 
 
 vexation, the speaker, George Boleyn, and the 
 Lord Bigod crossed to where he stood. 
 
 " His grace expressly commanded no other 
 reason should be assigned, save his good 
 pleasure, sir," replied the gentleman-usher, 
 with a dry hauteur which evinced that he 
 shared his master's dislikes as well as his 
 predilections. " Madame prioress, will you 
 walk?" 
 
 *'Ifmyarm might beofanystay,reverend lady 
 prioress," began the audacious Bigod, pushing 
 forward to that dignified personage, who, as 
 well as her nuns, had now arisen, in com- 
 pliance with Cavendish's notification. 
 
 " Or mine, to this youthful demoiselle, who 
 seems to lack some assistance ?" said Boleyn. 
 
 " Peace, sirs ! — these ladies are invited 
 whither none come without his grace's especial 
 summons !" said Cavendish, with lofty state- 
 liness. " Follow on, master scholar, and I 
 trust my lady prioress will find me a stout 
 enough prop for the nonce !" 
 
 Roodspere joyfully offered his arm to the 
 novice, while Dame Juliana found it impos- 
 sible to decline the proffered attention of the 
 gentleman-usher, who then solemnly led the 
 way along the reserved passage. George 
 Boleyn and his companion were left, with little 
 
 YOL. I. Q
 
 170 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY; OK, 
 
 ceremony of adieu, to digest as they best might 
 the mortifying circumstances of their rebuff. 
 
 " Whew !" whistled the former cavalier, after 
 a pause, and bursting into a laugh — but not of 
 satisfaction. " The priest takes both bite and 
 sup as usual ! Let us go and see how my sal- 
 low kinsman of Norfolk relishes cooling his 
 heels so long in vain !" 
 
 " I will be seen in no such company," replied 
 Lord Bigod. " Blessed Botolph ! deem you 
 I said aught in his hearing which the roguish 
 clerk can repeat to my disadvantage ? " 
 
 " Infinite matter ; and to mine — but I care 
 not," returned Boleyn, with a gesture of ve- 
 hement defiance. 
 
 " If he doth, by God's wounds ! I will cut 
 his ears from his head, though I be thereby 
 compelled to eat the Abbey scraps in the 
 Sanctuary for the rest of my days ! " said the 
 baronial prodigal, concluding with another still 
 more fearful oath. 
 
 The Cardinal's court, as it might well be 
 called, was now fast breaking up ; but envious 
 and inquiring looks followed the favoured 
 procession of which Roodspere made one. 
 When, at length, it reached the screen, and 
 Cavendish, unlocking a door in it with a 
 key which hung at his girdle, admitted the
 
 THE DATS OF THE REFORMATION. I7l 
 
 whole train, had the crowds in the hall seen a 
 select group let into paradise, they could 
 scarcely have stared more grudgingly after 
 them! 
 
 The screen admitted to a staircase so broad 
 that a score of persons might have ascended it 
 abreast without ruffling each other's purfled 
 pomp. This terminated in a guard chamber, 
 tenanted by a body of gentlemen-at-arms, 
 whose special business it was to watch over 
 the safety of the cardinal's person. They 
 passed unquestioned through these guardsmen, 
 to whom Cavendish was, of course, familiarly 
 known, and who were besides busily engaged 
 in throwing dice. Thence they entered a gal- 
 lery of extraordinary length and spaciousness, 
 hung with rich silken tapestry. Cavendish 
 paused about the middle of this apartment, 
 and politely addressing Roodspere, requested 
 him to remain in the gallery until he could 
 send Master Cromwel ; and this he promised 
 to do as soon as he had escorted the ladies of 
 Clerkenwell to the apartments provided for 
 their reception. 
 
 Roodspere felt that it was impossible to 
 offer any objection to so reasonable a pro- 
 cedure. Nevertheless, he felt an infinitude. 
 He had not spoken a word to the novice in
 
 172 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OK 
 
 their hurried transit, yet it seemed as if millions 
 of thoughts had crowded for utterance to his 
 lips ! A silent acquiescence was all he could 
 command ; but Dame Juliana luckily filled up 
 the pause by the expression of a courteous 
 hope that the learned Cambridge doctor, as 
 she now understood him to be, would visit her 
 at his earliest leisure, in Clerkenwell, and help 
 her to set her mind at rest on the point, 
 whether she might lawfully withstand her 
 novice^s earnest desire to dedicate herself to 
 the service of our Lady. Roodspere liked 
 neither the look nor manner that accom- 
 panied this invitation, yet he eagerly, almost 
 passionately, promised compliance. The fair 
 novice blushed, wherefore she herself would 
 have been altogether incapable of elucidating, 
 while her whole sweet visage brightened like 
 the flower, her prototype, in a sudden beam of 
 the sun. Little other ceremony of leave-taking 
 ensued, and Cavendish, escorting the nuns 
 through a portal which gave a momentary 
 glimpse into a stately corridor, Roodspere 
 was left alone, and never before had he felt so 
 emphatically the meaning of that dreary 
 word ! It seemed as if some delicious strain 
 of music had suddenly ceased, some beautiful 
 light become extinguished on his path, some
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFOEMATION. 173 
 
 sweetest essence lost its dewy fragrance in the 
 air ! He was left alone to sorrowful recollec- 
 tions and uneasy apprehensions, to doubt and 
 despondent certainties, oppressed rather than 
 aroused to curious notice by the deserted gran- 
 deur of the scene in which he remained. In 
 these brief moments he appeared to his 
 own consciousness to have lived years — to 
 have exhausted life — to have drained its 
 sweetest draught to the dregs, and to have 
 henceforth only bitterness and regret for his 
 vanished good remaining ! Yet even this new 
 and vehement sentiment was linked to an 
 association which recalled Roodspere to the 
 consideration of his proper business and con- 
 dition. Mary Paulet was led before the 
 Legate — and was it a relenting father or a 
 stern judge whom he was himself to face in 
 the same personage ? The chief of the tyran- 
 nous orthodoxy he had renounced, or the 
 daring and successful innovator destined to 
 pioneer the advance of a glorious reformation ? 
 But while thus musing and endeavouring to 
 place himself and his mighty kinsman in some 
 distinct relative light, Roodspere recalled, with 
 a sudden sickness at heart, the hints he 
 had heard thrown out concerning the Cardi- 
 nal's possible views on the orphan heiress of 
 
 Q 2
 
 1 74 WESTMITTSTEE ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 the name he had been taught to reverence 
 early as to contemn that of his sire ! Was it 
 not strange that he should have ordained her 
 reception in the recesses of his palace under 
 circumstances of such extraordinary ostenta- 
 tion of welcome ? The character and manners 
 of the Prioress of Clerkenwell offered no great 
 security for the safe-guidance and protection 
 of her charge. But Roodspere himself was 
 now suddenly grieved that he had spoken so 
 warmly against the orphan novice's apparent 
 purpose of immuring herself from such guar- 
 dianship, even within the melancholy vs'alls of 
 a nunnery ! A profound gloom by degrees 
 gained like a nightmare on his spirits ! and he 
 could have been tempted to venture after the 
 prioress and her company, and put them on 
 their guard against the dangers to be appre- 
 hended from the very circumstances that 
 seemed to banish any. The uselessness and 
 impracticability of such an interposition did, 
 nevertheless, occur to him with sufficient force 
 to restrain any untoward manifestation — and 
 one resource only remained. But it was one 
 from whose inexhaustible fount help and pro- 
 tection flow to sustain the universe, as the 
 light of the sun pervades its own vast but 
 limited sphere ! One habitual to the recourse
 
 THfi DAYS 01" THE EEFOEMATION. 175 
 
 of the young champion of the cross, who be- 
 lieved that he had received his armour and 
 vv^eapons and commission from the God of 
 Sahaoth, and owed to that Supreme Leader 
 only an account of the manner in which he 
 wielded them. But now it was to implore the 
 aid of the invisible but all-pervading power of 
 Good, on behalf of a helpless orphan and 
 woman, that Raphael Roodspere knelt, ob- 
 livious altogether of his own great needs. 
 Unwilling that this act of devotion should be 
 observed, and, perhaps, mistaken for a pha- 
 risaic display, he stepped into a deep recess 
 corresponding to one of the window-bays in 
 the hall below, by a series of which, along one 
 side, the gallery was also lighted. The deep, 
 though motley-coloured shadow that filled the 
 indentation from the lofty stained glass, em- 
 blazoned with the dusky colours of some 
 ancient archbishop's arms, would effectually 
 screen him, he imagined, from notice. And 
 sinking on his knees in this species of oratory, 
 Roodspere speedily became absorbed in a 
 passion of supplication and prayer. 
 
 The devote stranger had not observed that 
 on each side of the recess he had selected 
 were doors that probably admitted to interior 
 chambers of the palace. And so absorbed did
 
 176 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 Roodspere continue in his pious exercise that 
 he observed not the opening of one of these 
 entrances and the emergence of two persons 
 on the threshold. The massive framework of 
 the window, and its gloom of particoloured 
 shadow, completely shielded him from notice, 
 even if the parties had not been absorbed — 
 which it was soon evident they were — in a 
 conversation of great interest. It was not 
 until the voice of one of the interlocutors, 
 uttering some words in tones but little raised 
 above a whisper, came to his hearing that 
 Roodspere imagined any one was near. 
 
 " Said he so ? Why, then, harp well on 
 that string, brother Lincoln, sith it gives forth 
 such jangling music ! " said this voice. " And, 
 indeed, without any stretch of conscience, you 
 may well urge any plea, and all, in the proof 
 that a marriage between a brother and a 
 brother's wife is neither lawful nor blessed — 
 nay, rather is certainly most lawless and 
 accursed, seeing that the very malison de 
 nounced in Holy Scripture has fallen on our 
 royal prince ! For he truly may be called 
 childless that hath but a woman heir to suc- 
 ceed him in a realm than ever yet needed a 
 good knight, with a sharp sword and a heavy 
 hand, to rule it in any quietness. Harp well
 
 THE DATS OV THE EEFOEMATION. 177 
 
 that string, say I ! The shoe pinches him 
 worst there, for nothing irked his highness 
 more in all Buckingham's treasons than the 
 Carthusian's prophecy that the crown should 
 depart from the line of Tudor for lack of true 
 inheritance. And so it may well chance if 
 Henry leaves no other issue than the sour 
 Spaniard's daughter ; and who can hope fruit 
 from a tree that for s^ven springs has never 
 blossomed ? " 
 
 *' It is the barren fig-tree, my lord, that 
 should be cut down," replied the brother of 
 Lincoln. " But that is certain since your 
 grace, whose purposes never fail, is thereupon 
 resolved. Yet, indeed, my lord, I still must 
 fear his princely anger — which>ho may kindle 
 and live ? Should he cut me short with his 
 ha ! I am but lost, for it shakes men's hearts 
 worse than a sudden petard ! '' 
 
 ** Fear thou nothing, brother ! When Wol- 
 sey is with a man, what should he fear in 
 England ? — whereas he may hope everything !" 
 returned the first speaker, whom, with some- 
 thing nigh akin to the sensation described by 
 the confessor of Henry VIII., under the petard 
 simile, the unseen auditor could not but under- 
 stand to be Wolsey himself! But simul- 
 taneously he felt that to have overheard the
 
 178 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 smallest part of this dialogue was sufficient to 
 cause his ruin, and that his only chance of 
 safety was to remain undetected. Hoping the 
 conversation would be as brief as it was sud- 
 den, he held his breath, and continued kneeling 
 as fixedly as a statue of prayer. 
 
 " My most best lord ! I trust me wholly to 
 your disposal and assurance — I am as clay in 
 the potter's hands, and verily do never forget 
 that what I am, and eke what I may be, are 
 as much of your creation as the first man of 
 our Lord God's ! " was the Bishop of Lincoln's 
 reply, which, however, subsided from its tone 
 of blasphemous adulation to one of querulous 
 anxiety as he continued, " But in a matter of 
 such high and dangerous concernment, me- 
 thinks I would wade no farther in than as I 
 shall see others, and specially your grace, going 
 hand-in-hand with me ! " 
 
 " Thou unbelieving Thomas, thou ! What 
 wouldst thou have ?" returned Wolsey, play- 
 fully. " Have I not told thee that I have con- 
 cluded all in France, and that as soon as the 
 repudiation of this aunt of the empire is com- 
 pleted, our king's marriage with the gracious 
 Duchess of Alen^on is assured by all rea- 
 sonable plights ; and above all by the French- 
 men's interest running so evenly with the plan
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 179 
 
 that, without as it were sundering two already 
 mingled streams, they cannot be separated by 
 any malice or invention ? " 
 
 *' The Duchess of Alen^on is a widow, my 
 lord! I know not how that will chime in 
 with his grace's known fantasies r" observed 
 the confessor, with continued hesitation. 
 
 " What, though she be a widow ? She is none 
 the less the wittiest and pleasantest-spirited 
 lady of the world; and who hath the nicest 
 discernment to espy the like merits in others !" 
 replied Wolsey, testily. " What, though she 
 be a widow ? I have persuaded him out of 
 harder conceits than this foolish repugnance 
 to sit down after another at a feast — for who 
 can tell what he weds when he weds a 
 woman?" 
 
 *' In good troth, my lord, unless an angel 
 from Heaven chose her — or your grace ! " 
 returned the courtly bishop. " But I fear me 
 the divorce will not be so easily accomplished 
 as your wisdom deems, though it must needs 
 be acknowledged that hitherto the very ele- 
 ments do seem to have it in commission to 
 obey you ! " 
 
 " Wherefore not, brother Lincoln, wherefore 
 not ? " said Wolsey, with the fretful impatience 
 of a spoilt child of fortune, thwarted of some
 
 180 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 favourite toy. " So far, all goes as I would 
 have it ! The King's Highness is utterly 
 wearied and disgusted with this lady's melan- 
 choly humour, and her autumnal years that 
 hang not, as the promise of the seasons should, 
 with lusty fruit. He hath greedily imbibed 
 our suggestions concerning the unlawfulness 
 of his matrimony with his brother's wife — and, 
 let me tell you, once put a thought into his 
 head, and you shall easier draw out the wedge 
 from the unriven oak ! He hath applied the 
 light of his own wit and learning to the judg- 
 ment of the case, and finds that the irrefraga- 
 ble doctor, on whose wisdom he places more 
 stress than on all the Scriptures, which yet 
 are consentaneous — that Aquinas himself con- 
 demns his coupling wholly! The Pope cannot 
 and doth not refuse an equal hearing of the 
 cause. Nay, I will be plain with you ; his 
 holiness hath already named myself and Cam- 
 peius joint legatine commissioners, with ample 
 powers, to adjudicate upon it. Daily I expect 
 his arrival — and being, as Pope Clement is, 
 under obligation almost of life and limb to our 
 prince, Campeius himself so wealthily beneficed 
 by his favour in England — they cannot think to 
 refuse, so high majesty impetrating, the 
 necessary condescension to his desires. The
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOKMATION. 181 
 
 queen herself knows nothing of the plot, and 
 hath fallen prettily into our pretence, that these 
 proceedings are merely to stablish, beyond 
 cavil, her daughter's title. For the rude people, 
 I take them into none account, and — " 
 
 " I crave pardon, my lord ! but is your grace 
 so well assured the queen suspects nothing of 
 this practice ? " humbly interrupted the less 
 sanguine politician. " How is the abrupt de- 
 parture, without any ceremony of leavetaking, 
 either with the king or with your grace, to be 
 explained of the Spaniard's ambassador ? And 
 if once the Emperor suspects what is in hand, 
 he will scarce fail to let his holiness under- 
 stand your project of dispossessing him of the 
 holy chair, on the proven charges of his simony 
 and bastardy." 
 
 " Why so, let be, the pope will still not dare 
 to quarrel with us and France, his now only 
 allies and upholders ! " returned Wolsey, with 
 vehemence. 
 
 " Unless he makes friends and common 
 cause with the Emperor ; which is like enough, 
 being, as he now is, wholly at his power and 
 mercy, my lord," said the bishop. 
 
 " But he hath already confirmed us our 
 commission, under lead and wax, and I will 
 make such diligence that he shall not have 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 182 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY; OE, 
 
 time to revoke it, were it for his life ! " re- 
 turned Wolsey. " Go, go ; dost thou think I 
 have lost the trick of policies, my Lord of 
 Lincoln ? But what makes thee imagine that 
 this infinitely secret matter, lodged in three 
 bosoms only, can have oozed forth to the 
 light ? " 
 
 " Why hath his holiness appointed Cam- 
 peius to the office, a crafty Italian, and sub- 
 jected to politic fits of the gout?" said the 
 bishop. " And do not all men observe with 
 how infinitely less than the respect due to your 
 greatness and merits, which overtop it all, the 
 queen entreats you of late ? Yea, though 
 methinks she no otherwise cherishes her pert 
 French waiting damsel. Mistress Boleyn, she 
 encourages all the onslaughts of her prate on 
 your grace — which verily our blessed Lord 
 himself might scantily, with patience, have 
 endured !" 
 
 " You are right, brother, you are right ! " 
 replied Wolsey, in tones that changed suddenly 
 and remarkably from those of exultant hope, 
 to the churning of deep though suppressed 
 wrath. " But our lady queen, forsooth, is too 
 precise and peevish to see any good in us, 
 because we live not after the fashion of the 
 mad monks of Montserrat, on herbs and water,
 
 THE DATS 0¥ THE REFORMATION. 183 
 
 and mumbling orisons till the angels themselves 
 be aweary of the drowsy drone ! But she will 
 kaow herself not to show so erminely in men's 
 eyes when she stands convict-^as soon she 
 must on evident canonical reasons — of this in- 
 cestuous marriage with her husband's brother! 
 But for the tart-tongued wench of whom ye 
 speak, she needs no encouragement but her 
 own audacity and wilfulness, that will needs 
 send her to try her moth's wings in the torch ! 
 Withal, I am well informed my foolish enviers 
 and gainsayers in the court, with the Howard 
 faction to the boot, have joined hand and glove 
 with her to my perdition ! Ay, named her 
 their she-Sampson, that is, to pull down the 
 Church itself about our ears ; for, save the mark ! 
 she hath her judgment also in religious matters, 
 as well as in the sway of a satin robe, or the 
 slash of a pinked sleeve !" 
 
 " But I do marvel your grace, knowing this 
 — knowing this gorgeous lady for your enemy 
 and detractor — should suffer her so near the 
 king's person, whom she lays herself out so 
 lavishly to win — with what good success none 
 can doubt that watch his dotage over her ! " 
 replied the episcopal confederate.. 
 
 " I was to blame, in sooth, I was to blame !" 
 returned Wolsey, with a depth of regret and
 
 184 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 bitterness that even startled his suggestive 
 counsellor. " I thought it was but a matter to 
 amuse his grace, while I toiled in my deeper 
 policies, not dreaming — but thou sayest, bro- 
 ther, 'tis so ! — I had thought to have found the 
 business concluded on my return, according to 
 his highness's wonted fashion, whose fleshly 
 appetites have ever yet surfeited in the glut of 
 possession, to the death ! Yet you are the 
 king's confessor — and you say you have not 
 found occasion to shrive him of the transgres- 
 sion whereof I know, three months agone, he 
 would full fain have dree'd the penalties. How 
 may this be ? Her report in France gives ar- 
 gument of all vanity and accostableness — yet 
 the king speeds not in his suit ! Belike she 
 thinks to play a deeper game with us than the 
 rest, and market herself to a chariness. But 
 look to it. Mistress Anne ! the chapmen weary 
 at nightfall, and leave the too thrifty butter- 
 wife to trudge home with her eggs unsold ! 
 Even as light and unsubstantial a ware do you 
 market! But Wolsey will have no bidders 
 with him for his king's love and favour ! We 
 will reign there, as ever, alone, as jealously as 
 He who suffers no creature in the heavens, or 
 the earth, or the waters that are under the 
 earth, to contend with His supremacy !"
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORJtfATION. 185 
 
 " I would humbly counsel your grace to 
 lose no time then, for she is hourly worming 
 herself more deeply into his highness's favour 
 Yesterday, when he knelt to me at confession, 
 he twice uttered her name, instead of our Lady's, 
 in his prayers.'* 
 
 " Ay, indeed ! " said Wolsey, in uneasy and 
 exasperated tones. " I will take thy counsel, 
 be well assured, brother; and, besides, the 
 king expects from me the gratification of all 
 his humours, of whatsoever sort. I will get 
 him his plaything, and thereby acquire me a 
 new claim upon his love, and mine enemies 
 will find it to their profit to lay down their 
 arms with those of their chieftainess. How 
 have they so soon forgotten Buckingham ? In 
 him I spared not the royal blood of a Plan- 
 tagenet ! But the mercer Boleyn's — if they 
 anger me too far, even in a woman's veins — I 
 shall not deem too dully-hued to be poured 
 back into its native kennel by my provoked 
 indignation ! Nay, worse may chance to her ! 
 I have heard of her in France, that she fa- 
 voured the new heresy there, and would fre- 
 quent Louis de Berquin's ravings in Paris, as 
 an he spoke God's oracles. And being, as I 
 am now, resolved to root out these malignant 
 weeds of heresy with fire and plough through- 
 
 R 2
 
 186 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 out the land, it is not like that I shall spare 
 one that would also entangle my feet to an 
 overthrow ! Rest thee content, lief brother, 
 I shall find my way with this restiff jennet, too, 
 in mine own time. Leave the task to me, for 
 I may say, albeit I would not all men heard 
 me, I have some little skill in breaking in 
 women to their paces !" 
 
 The confessor responded with a low, acqui- 
 escing, profoundly deferential murmur of 
 cachination, and then, after a moment's 
 pause, requested leave to kiss the cardinal's 
 hand and withdraw. 
 
 " Well, be it so, I have other iron on the 
 anvil to weld. These cursed monks of West- 
 minster weary me more than all the rest of the 
 crew," said Wolsey. " But, no, you shall but 
 salute the holy relic in our signet. We are 
 not worthy of more honour from an episcopal 
 brother now, nor shall be until we dispossess 
 simoniacal Clement, and restore the free ex- 
 ercise of the Holy Spirit in a canonical election 
 to the papacy. France has sworn to aid us in 
 this purpose, on condition that we assist him, 
 tooth and nail, in driving the Germans out of 
 Italy. Let be, let be ! it shall be seen if I 
 answer not the mansworn Emperor's mock : 
 ' priests should be patient men.' "
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATION. 187 
 
 " For a purpose so beneficial — nay, so utterly 
 necessary to the weal of all Christendom — I 
 am willing to put myself and my poor fortunes 
 to the hazard," responded the confederate, 
 visibly cheered. " In all Christendom, only 
 your grace hath the ability and will to save 
 the church, so tangled now in the folds of 
 heresy. The perfidious Almayne will live yet 
 to repent his false play with the cards, albeit 
 they seemed to win him the game." 
 
 " I shall leave something to reward my 
 friends and well-wishers in England whenever 
 I go hence for Italy," said Wolsey, " and look 
 to have the choice of my bishoprics here, 
 brother, when I am supreme in Rome. Mean- 
 while, proceed on the path chalked out for thee, 
 and apply thyself diligently to keep the king's 
 conscience awake wherein it hath so long slum- 
 bered, insensible to the warnings of Heaven 
 sent in his dead-born sons. It is a wise and a 
 most necessary policy for the weal of this 
 realm, whose wounds of civil war are scarcely 
 yet scarred over, were it nought else. God be 
 your speed ; and look that as you go you take 
 no skill to hide that you have been with us. 
 Plotting Norfolk and feather-brained Sufi'olk 
 alike, will think twice what they whisper
 
 188 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 against us when they shall see the king's con- 
 fessor is of one counsel and bosom with us." 
 
 Luckily for Roodspere, with all his anxiety 
 to secure the devotion of this necessary agent 
 of his policy, the haughty cardinal extended 
 his farewell condescension no further than to 
 raise the bishop, after he had knelt and kissed 
 his reliquary. He advanced not a step beyond 
 the threshold of the oratory, where both stood; 
 and as the obsequious dependent retired the 
 whole breadth of the gallery, in a deep abai- 
 sance, he wonderfully missed perceiving Rood- 
 spere when he raised his head and made his 
 exit. 
 
 The unwilling espial's danger was now either 
 that Cavendish might abruptly return in search 
 of him, or the cardinal come into the gallery 
 and discern him. But Wols»y continued to 
 stand at the door of his oratory, either watching 
 his confederate out, or absorbed in reverie. 
 The latter appeared to be the case, for he at 
 last exclaimed aloud, as if unable to contain 
 the swelling passion in his heart, " Ay, King 
 of Castile, Arragon, and all the Spains ! Em- 
 peror of Germany ! Lord of Naples and the 
 Milanese ! Inheritor of a New World ! — with 
 all thy pride and power, and these titles of an 
 earth-divinity, thou shalt find that the butcher s
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 189 
 
 dog, as thou callest Wolsey, can bite as well 
 as bark, vaunt loudly as thou wilt that thou 
 hast drawn his teeth ! " 
 
 And the Cardinal withdrew, closing the 
 oratory door after him, and audibly bolting it 
 within.
 
 190 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OK, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THOMAS CEOMWEL. 
 
 And thus far hear me, Cromwel, 
 And when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; 
 And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
 Of me must more be heard of— say I taught thee. 
 
 King Henry tiii. 
 
 The moment the sound of the bolts ceased, 
 Roodspere arose from his kneeling attitude, 
 in a state of indescribable agitation. But 
 his judgment did not desert him, and he 
 felt that he had not an instant to lose in 
 devising some means of extrication from the 
 perilous consequences of detection in such a 
 position. It could scarcely be doubted, the 
 Cardinal would speedily hear of his attend- 
 ance in the gallery — so that the only hope 
 of eluding his wrath lay in the possibility of 
 giving rise to an inference that he might 
 have been in it, without overhearing the im- 
 portant state secrets discussed between the 
 minister and his subordinate. Fortunately
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BEFOKMATION. 191 
 
 the gallery was of an extent to countenance 
 the supposition, if the listener apprehended 
 were at its farthest extremity. The superb 
 tapestry that covered the walls, like the 
 pictures in a modern gallery of art, might 
 well be supposed to allure a stranger the 
 whole length of the apartment. The Cardi- 
 nal had not stepped from the threshold of 
 his oratory — and could not therefore decide, 
 from his own recollections, whether this ex- 
 tended space was clear or not. At all events, 
 it was the only means of obviating suspicion 
 that suggested itself to Roodspere. On tip- 
 toe, and lightly as the silken figures in the 
 tapestry might have stepped from their frames, 
 he followed the guidance of his inspiration. 
 Chance befriended him. He had time to 
 take his station at the end of the gallery, 
 and feign to be absorbed in the view from the 
 great window there, before any arrival dis- 
 turbed him. And then it was only a number 
 of musicians, tuning and thrumming their 
 various instruments, as if preparing for a 
 concert, who crossed the gallery, and entered 
 the corridor leading to what were styled the 
 privy chambers of the palace. 
 
 The end of the gallery, where Roodspere 
 stood, formed a circular apartment, probably
 
 192 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OR, 
 
 in one of the numerous lantern towers of 
 York Place; isolated on all sides, excepting 
 that on which it adhered to the main building. 
 It was lighted also by a round window, from 
 which circumstance, he afterwards learned, it 
 was called the " Bull's Eye." Or it might be, 
 the courtiers gave it the designation from the 
 accidental fact that it commanded a view along 
 the rivet to the royal palace at Westminster ; 
 and thence it seemed as if the jealous and 
 insatiable minister could personally keep up 
 that observation on the court of his sovereign 
 which they found to their cost he seldom or 
 never relaxed. 
 
 An animated spectacle of river navigation 
 was below Roodspere's glance — and in the 
 distance were the stately masses of the royal 
 palace, above which the lofty roof of West- 
 minster Abbey was visible. But he took no 
 notice of this diversified scene ; his mind was 
 entirely absorbed in the thoughts awakened in 
 it by the revelations forced upon him during 
 his involuntary espionage. The glimpses he 
 had caught into the secrets of Wolsey's cha- 
 racter and policy struck him with a protracted 
 amazement ! His domineering pride, his worldly 
 vices, his intriguing and revengeful spirit, 
 could not, indeed, surprise any one acquainted
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 193 
 
 with his history. But the project he had now 
 formed to gratify those dominant emotions of 
 his nature, appeared to Roodspere fraught 
 with momentous consequences of a far different 
 kind. The reformers had every reason to appre- 
 hend a most dangerous opposition in the influ- 
 ence of the princess, mother of the heiress of the 
 realm, whom Wolsey thus conspired to remove 
 from their way. Queen Katharine was a 
 devote adherent of the ancient tenets, and was 
 allied by blood to their most bigoted and 
 powerful supporters throughout Europe. On 
 the contrary it was rumoured that the court 
 of France, and King Francis's witty and learned 
 sister especially, were inclined to favour the 
 Lutheran revolt. Political motives influenced 
 with them chiefly, perhaps — but not the less 
 efiiciently, in favour of the great cause ! Might 
 it then be that the cardinal himself was raised 
 as a blind but active instrument of heaven in 
 the work of the Reformation ? Until this period 
 Roodspere had never considered theologically 
 the question of the lawfulness of the king's 
 marriage with his brother's widow. But the 
 natural delicacy of his feelings was opposed to 
 the propriety of such an union ; and it must 
 be forgiven to the weakness of humanity, if the 
 infinite benefits that might flow to his trampled 
 VOL. 1. s
 
 194 WESTMINSTER ABEEY ; OE, 
 
 cause, from its dissolution, filled Koodspere 
 with an ardent hope — almost a conviction — 
 that in the oracles of the Scriptures he should 
 find its condemnation. Yet the perfidy and 
 cruelty of the means to be employed did cer- 
 tainly stagger the reformer's eager conclusions. 
 But evil men, he mused, like tempests, hail, 
 and other disastrous agencies of providence, 
 could only work by the laws of their organiza- 
 tion ; and Wolsey's unprincipled efi'orts to 
 attain the popedom might be turned, by 
 superior decrees, into the very levers of its 
 overthrow ! 
 
 This idea wonderfully restored Roodspere's 
 courage ; he ceased even to dread the approach- 
 ing interview with his unkind and formidable 
 sire. His awe of his greatness had, in- 
 deed, magically diminished contemplating the 
 unsound inner carpentery of the colossal 
 edifice he had reared in his fortunes, for the 
 ignorant homage of mankind. The clay feet 
 of the idol were too visible ! " Let me thank, 
 and no longer blame him, for that he has 
 shown me always so little of a parent's kind- 
 ness — that his gift of life has been to me only 
 a sorrowful and unprized boon, such as osten- 
 tatious chance might well throw and forget in 
 the same breath ! — And if not love, why should
 
 THE DATS OF THE REFORMATION. 195 
 
 I fear him ? This stately palace is but a 
 theatre of pollution — these glittering axemen 
 guard a tyrant and a betrayer — this pompous 
 retinue knees but a luciferous ambition which 
 also shall fall from the stars ! God be praised, 
 I have so little cause to mourn its fall !" 
 
 The sounds that interrupted this soliloquy 
 were certainly not meant for its echo. The 
 musicians he saw arrive had evidently left some 
 doors ajar behind them, in their passage to the 
 privy chambers, for a strain of festive harmony 
 came very distinctly, though from a distance, 
 to Roodspere's sense. He listened for an 
 instant somewhat attentively, and distinguished 
 a fine solo voice of a man, accompanying 
 himself on the lute with incomparable skill. 
 The words he sung were evidently those of 
 some amatory ditty, in the taste of the times, 
 still less suited to the locality, one would have 
 thought, than even the reformer's cogitations. 
 But though a hired maker of sweet sounds, 
 the musician's tones were full of passion and 
 glow, as if his own sentiments were in some 
 measure the inspiration of the strain. And it 
 might well be, for it was Mark Smeaton that 
 sung, destined to play so basely amorous a 
 part in Anne Boleyn's tragedy, and who was
 
 196 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 already held to be the choicest minstrel about 
 the court. This was his lay : — 
 
 Oh, that together — none beside — 
 
 We twain were in the woodlands straying ! 
 The secrets now my heart must hide 
 
 Should burst like streams that go a-maying 
 AU through the meadows' golden flowers 
 
 "When spring brings back love's roaming hours ! 
 Arbours, with honeysuckle blind, 
 
 Shall shield us from all eyes bewraying — 
 The sunflecked daisies will be kind. 
 
 And teU no tales to love's betraying — 
 Doves in their bowers will but coo 
 
 The more when they shall spy us woo ! 
 Oh, that together— none beside — 
 
 "We twain might dwell apart for ever 
 Where scarce the wandering sunbeams glide — 
 
 In mossy caves, where frowns not sever 
 Lovers that would be kind and true 
 
 As, sweet, I fain would prove with you ! 
 
 The strain, as we have said, was harmonious 
 and tender in voice and melody as the murmur 
 of wood and water to the nightingale's moonlit 
 serenade — yet it troubled Roodspere, and he 
 was glad when it ceased. To whom, then, 
 was this amorous homage paid ? To what ears 
 this melting descant addressed ? It came from 
 the direction of those inner recesses of the 
 palace, whither the nuns of Clerkenwell and
 
 THS DAfS OF THE EEFORMATION. 197 
 
 their beautiful novice had been escorted ! 
 Could it then by possibility be intended for 
 their delectation and enthralment ? If so, why 
 should Wolsey take such pains to please his 
 submissive and powerless visitants ? A deadly 
 sickness glided over Roodspere's heart as he 
 suddenly recalled the laughing but significant 
 reflections of George Boleyn and the Lord 
 Bigod, on the novice's presence in the train of 
 the Prioress of Clerkenwell ! The announce- 
 ment made by Cavendish of the festive solem- 
 nities awaiting them — something peculiar in 
 his manner — also recurred with painful vivid- 
 ness to Roodspere's fancy. Could it possibly 
 be that, after having crushed the father by his 
 severity, an excess of vengeance — or a still 
 more lawless and baneful passion — urged the 
 Cardinal on the debasement of the child ? If 
 it might be so, what hope of escape was there 
 for an inexperienced and unprotected girl, in 
 the power of the subtle, eloquent, magnificent, 
 and dreaded Wolsey ? Yet did this seem so 
 cniel and complicated a wickedness that Rood- 
 spere, ^vith a shudder, strove to dismiss it from 
 his apprehensions. It seemed such a desecra- 
 tion of nature as even the stern lawgiver of the 
 Hebrews had forbidden, when he declared that 
 the kid should not be seethed in the milk of
 
 198 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OB, 
 
 its dam. Remembering also the prioress's 
 demeanour and repute, he took consolation 
 from the thought that she might be the object 
 of this gallant and sumptuous reception. 
 Roodspere was not deep read enough as yet 
 in the dark lore of humanity to understand 
 what charms innocence and purity may possess 
 to the jaded sensualist ; and how the fiend 
 himself, in the beginning of evil, took delight in 
 their corruption and debasement ! 
 
 What would not Roodspere have given, as 
 these thoughts chased and contended with each 
 other in his mind, to have passed magnetically 
 into the mysterious penetralia of this glittering 
 palace, and with his own eyes have satisfied 
 himself of the safety of the youthful daughter 
 of his once lord ? An irresistible impulse had, 
 in fact, drawn him some paces towards the 
 adit by which the musicians entered to the 
 scene of festivity, when, luckily for himself, 
 his steps were arrested by the abrupt entrance 
 of two persons. In one of them he recognised 
 Cavendish. The other was a man of square 
 and strong-set figure, in the furred gown and 
 cap worn by persons in the profession of the 
 law — in whose countenance it was hard to say 
 whether a character of subtle though smiling 
 sagacity, or of determined energy, predominated.
 
 THE DATS or THE EEPORMATION. 199 
 
 And equally difficult would it have been to 
 decide which qualities were in ascendancy in 
 the moral composition of Thomas Cromwel — 
 for he it was — who was destined to play so 
 memorable a part in the changeful tragedy of 
 the English Reformation. The gentleman- 
 usher's formal introduction was scarcely neces- 
 sary to announce the identity to Roodspere, 
 who was struck with a conviction, at the first 
 glance, that he had previously met with some 
 similar personage of the name ; though where 
 and how he could not for a considerable time 
 call to mind. 
 
 The circumstances of Cromwel's career 
 accounted for much of the singular combination 
 of personal and mental qualities which were 
 destined, at no distant period, to set him so 
 prominently on the stage of the world — all of 
 which were essential to the great agency events 
 had in store for him. The son of a blacksmith, 
 his strong-knit frame, sinewy hands, and pecu- 
 liarly muscular right arm, still indicated that 
 his earliest years were spent in the toils of 
 Tubal Cain. In succession, he had been a 
 merchant's clerk, a soldier of fortune, and a 
 lawyer ; and in these capacities, in the course 
 of a wandering life, he had acquired the most 
 extensive knowledge of men and of the world, a
 
 200 WESIMINSTEU ABBEY; OE, 
 
 tinge of misanthropy, not far removed from 
 scorn of mankind, and a facility of principles 
 too nigh akin to indifference to any but such 
 as served his own purposes and ambition. 
 Nevertheless, Cromwel was capable of the 
 most generous and kind emotions ; possessed 
 iron nerve, and a resolution which no difficul- 
 ties could daunt, or obstacles could baffle. In 
 his last vocation of the law, he attracted the 
 attention of Cardinal Wolsey, by his activity, 
 his audacity, his ready ingenuity, and his 
 poverty ! For Wolsey loved to make his crea- 
 tures absolutely his own, by making them from 
 nothing; and the future Earl of Essex, and 
 main agent of the Reformation, owed the 
 beginning of his fortunes to a church which 
 he was destined to overthrow, but which, in 
 the end, retaliated upon him with a like de- 
 struction, as the dying scorpion leaves its sting 
 in the marrow of its crusher's grasp. 
 
 Cromwel entered speaking to Master Caven- 
 dish. " How ! he will see no one to-day 
 though he brought him the news that Pope 
 Clement had died of the pip ? Well, well, 
 our scholar's business can abide his grace's 
 leisure better than a poached egg ! But 
 what is all this thrumming and skirling in the 
 privy chambers. Master Cavendish ? Methought
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 201 
 
 you told me even now that the nuns of Clerken- 
 well only were there — whom such piping 
 revelry, methinks, should rather affright than 
 deUght?" 
 
 " I spoke truth, master secretary — they only 
 are within — at a most costly and especial ban- 
 quet with my lord ! — save that there are certain 
 musicians posted in the Seven-Deadly-Sins' 
 gallery, and Fool Patch is set to keep the 
 ladies in laughter and merriment, if it should 
 chance my lord's sadder affairs make him to 
 muse," replied the gentleman-usher. 
 
 *' Good, good ! — but the proverb will be 
 marred — one fool will not make many — he will 
 find them ready made," said the secretary, 
 with some asperity. " Prithee, canst thou tell 
 me, brother, whether a certain simpleton novice 
 they call Lily- Virgin be in the train of my 
 jolly lady prioress .^" 
 
 " Doubtless, master secretary, sithence my 
 lord bade me prepare his oratory for her recep- 
 tion, where he intends to examine her con- 
 science in some matters wherein she hath dis- 
 pleased him," replied Cavendish. 
 
 " Ay, indeed ? " said Cromwel. " Well, no 
 matter — his grace's wisdom and discretion may 
 well provide a remedy for what is amiss ! 
 Where is this scholar of ours ? AVelcome to
 
 202 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 York Place, worthy and learned doctor ! — for, 
 I doubt not, you are such now in degree as well 
 as in merit," he concluded, courteously remov- 
 ing his coif. 
 
 Before this address was made, Roodspere 
 was aware that he became an object of indi- 
 rect but keen scrutiny, on the part of his cor- 
 respondent. He was scarcely prepared for 
 the easy frankness and cordiality of its tone ; 
 and he replied with visible hesitation, " I have 
 obeyed my Lord Legate's command in all 
 things, master secretary — and so hath the 
 university," and was silent. 
 
 "In all things, master scholar?" returned 
 Cromwel, with a good-humoured but strangely 
 significant smile. Then, turning to the gentle- 
 man-usher, " We will not trouble you further, 
 Master Cavendish ; go and help the fool to 
 entertain my lady prioress and her grey geese — 
 whiles his grace uses his wondrous eloquence 
 to bring their snow-feathered pullet, or Paulet, 
 to her natural woman's senses ! Little enow, 
 forsooth ; but enough, I should opine, in the 
 end, to keep her out of a nunnery! Nay, 
 brother Cavendish, be not offended with me — 
 a wise man may play the fool when it serves 
 his turn — and better than thou have held the 
 candle to the devil when he walked their way."
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFORMATION. 203 
 
 " You are ever at your dark jesting, Master 
 Cromwel ; but, I thank my God, I understand 
 no more than suits with the duty of my place ! " 
 replied the gentleman-usher, rather pettishly. 
 
 " Ay, we should thank God for all things of 
 grace, Master Cavendish ! But, to speak 
 plainly, brother, thou knowest where two are 
 good company, the third should step out to see 
 how the wind blows ! My business is private 
 with this reverend young man." 
 
 Cavendish bowed, still somewhat out of 
 humour ; but comprehending that his presence 
 was not required, he withdrew, with a pro- 
 tracted sidelong glance at Roodspere. 
 
 " He will make no odds when he joins my 
 lord's fool, howbeit ! — there will be a pair 
 of them," continued the sarcastic secretary. 
 " But before we talk, let us see if the doors 
 are closed, and Master Cavendish's fox-slippers 
 glided elsewhere. He is a good old lad, but 
 loves to be in all men's secrets better than 
 they to trust them to him.'* 
 
 Somewhat to Roodspere's dissatisfaction he 
 proceeded on tiptoe, and carefully ascertained 
 that all the doors opening on the gallery were 
 closed — that included which had admitted the 
 sounds of revel. Returning, he made a gesture
 
 204 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 to Roodspere, and led him back to the circular 
 chamber at the end of the gallery. 
 
 " All is well," said the secretary, smiling at 
 his visitor's intent expression. " The car- 
 dinal's grace is at his noon repast, which he 
 hurries not on a fast-day — and this is a feast-day 
 it seems ! My fellow, Gardiner, God be 
 praised, is wrangling with the pope's jailers in 
 Rome, and we have a little peace of his 
 viperous tongue. But, by all the holiness he 
 will find, or carry there ! he will owe me an ill 
 turn when he comes home, and learns how I 
 have ravelled one of his choicest webs of 
 policy, and brought you hither, face to face 
 with the Cardinal!" 
 
 " Did Master Stephen oppose my coming to 
 his grace's presence?" said Roodspere, with 
 emotion, though not much surprised at the 
 intimation. 
 
 " Ay, and would, if he might, all other 
 access, for he is as jealous of my lord as if he 
 had bought the fee-simple of his favour with 
 his immortal soul ! — which it may truly also be 
 that he hath," said Cromwel. " But I see now 
 why he misliked and disserved you the most ! 
 Howbeit, he is away — on his secret Roman 
 embassy, forsooth — and other counsels prevail. 
 Know ye not that he had persuaded the Cardi-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 205 
 
 nal, on the credit of a lunatic friar's astrology, 
 that it were more fatal for him to meet thine 
 eyes than the basilisk's ? — Good faith, I had 
 much ado to reason his grace out of that 
 dotage, albeit none knew better how false 
 Hopkins's prophecies had proved in Bucking- 
 ham's affairs ! The astrologer said the good 
 duke should wear a crown — and so deprived 
 him of the head to put it on ! But until these 
 late matters came to pass, I might in no wise 
 prevail." 
 
 " I know nothing to have commended me, 
 — of late, to the Cardinal's special favour?" said 
 Roodspere, with some secret consciousness to 
 the contrary mantling on his brows. 
 
 " What ! not thy company-keeping with the 
 Cambridge Lutherans — thy wondrously loving 
 and most eloquent epistle on behalf of railing 
 Bilney ?" said Cromwel, laughing outright at 
 Roodspere's astonished and perplexed expres- 
 sion. " But on the whole, it did thee good ! 
 I took occasion thereupon to recite to his grace 
 the fable of him who had a son of whom the 
 astrologers predicted he should be destroyed by 
 a lion. Upon this the lad was for great care- 
 fulness shut up in a strong tower, wherein 
 were divers pictures of men and beasts set, to 
 amuse his imprisoned eyes. Among them, of 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 206 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 a lion ; which he one day contemplating, out of 
 measure enwrathed with his captivity, exclaims, 
 ' And thou art the cause !' and strikes the 
 canvas a fierce blow ; wherein was a rusty 
 nail, which, piercing his hand, festered to a 
 mortal wound ! This fable I told the cardinal, 
 who, spying my drift, gave me, at last, permis- 
 sion to send for you to his court, on an office 
 which will require but little of your presence 
 in it, yet give you meet means of advancement. 
 But so much of what from time to time has 
 been sent us by envious spies concerning you 
 and your fellows, I have so altered, softened, 
 suppressed, and otherwise garbled, that I 
 dreaded, unless forewarned, you might, in your 
 interview with the cardinal, stumble on some 
 intelligence to him unknown, and awaken the 
 suspicion of his watchful nature." 
 
 Roodspere looked amazed, but kept an em- 
 barrassed silence. 
 
 " Ye marvel wherefore I should cherish you 
 whom — unless in some wild, whirling dream, 
 long agone — I never remember to have seen?" 
 resumed Cromwel, more gravely. " But from 
 the first I liked of ye, and knew there must 
 be something good in ye, when I understood 
 how my bitter gainsayer and crosser, Stephen 
 Gardiner, hated you ! Then the Cardinal
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOKMiLTION. 207 
 
 would oft speak of you witli good affection, and 
 regret that he must hold ye at distance — 
 nay, he took the less delight in the rich report 
 of your learning and virtuous commendation 
 that Stephen persuaded him they rendered you 
 the more dangerous and capable of fulfilling 
 the prophecy !" 
 
 " I never gave Master Stephen cause of 
 offence, that I wot of," said Roodspere. 
 
 " What cause of offence doth the pheasant 
 give to the weasel, when it sucks its eggs ?" 
 returned Cromwel. " He saw the Cardinal had 
 good likings for you, and feared your promotion 
 might balk his own, or some of his friends'. 
 But, for my part, I thought that one good turn 
 deserved another ; and awhile ago his grace 
 told me his attention was first turned to my 
 admirable qualities by your commendation." 
 
 " By mine ?" repeated Roodspere, after an 
 instant's recollection, adding, " I did indeed 
 speak once or twice to his grace concerning the 
 courageous carriage of a man of laws, of your 
 name, on the horrible occasion of the burning 
 of Hunne ; but knew not — " 
 
 " Was it even there we first encountered ? 
 This is strange !" exclaimed Cromwel. " I 
 do, indeed, remember me of a tall, ragged 
 youth — ghastly with famine and fear — with
 
 208 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 whom I gossipped before the broil began ! 
 None other." 
 
 " I was he," replied Roodspere. 
 " I say that this is strange ! considering on 
 what special business I have procured your 
 recal. It might go something to persuade one 
 of a faith shaken by watching how this world 
 wags, that an avenging Providence indeed 
 mixes its might in men's affairs !" said the 
 secretary, with some visible and certainly un- 
 wonted emotion. " But was it indeed thou 
 in those beggar weeds ? Ay, truly, thy 
 tongue was tipped with fire even then ! Be 
 not ashamed that I should remember of you 
 in your poorer estate, sith the cardinal has 
 told me your whole story, master scholar ! 
 Neither be shamefaced to own so glorious a 
 sire — lest peradventure you countenance Gar- 
 diner's lie, for the which I once heard the 
 Cardinal dismally rate him, that you were his 
 enemy. Sir Amias Paulet's, own misbegot !" 
 
 " He lied, indeed ; most utterly — most 
 malignly, there !" returned Roodspere, with 
 a vehemence he very rarely used in speaking 
 on the subject, that evidently pleased Cromwel. 
 
 " Maintain your true parentage then apertly, 
 and especially to the Cardinal — who is some- 
 thing offended with your close concealment of
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BEFOEMATION. 209 
 
 the fact at Cambridge. He dreads no scandal 
 now— he is no longer a parish priest starving 
 on a glebe that scarcely keeps a sheep in 
 maggots," said the secretary. " I see well 
 my whispering genius is no cogging devil, but 
 a true counsellor ! The Cardinal already loves 
 you so as methinks only forbidden inclinings 
 do — for seldom one loveth his lawful son, or 
 his wife, or anything else that he may keep 
 with the commandments, as Pope Borgia did 
 his queans, and his Csesar, and his ill-got 
 dominion ! Marry, then, you have only to 
 show yourself benignly on your part, and we 
 shall more than balance all Gardiner's sway 
 and counsels, that do as continually thwart me 
 in my acts as the devil doth all good! But 
 now, ere you coast the Cardinal, it is fitting you 
 should know on what special business I have 
 procured your recal. Can logic teach you 
 that?" 
 
 " Since I am not summoned to answer any 
 imputed ofi"ence, I must conclude some privy 
 purpose of his grace's own ?" Roodspere an- 
 swered. 
 
 " Well reasoned in Ba-ra-co, master scholar! 
 — your ergo is fairly drawn," said Crom- 
 wel, smiling with the mixture of mild con- 
 tempt a man of the world might well feel for 
 
 T 2
 
 210 WESTMINSTER ABBEY J OB, 
 
 the scholastic logic of the age. " But, forget 
 not, I am the middle figure of the syllogism ; 
 for it was I who suggested how profitably you 
 might be employed in the matter, reciting how, 
 after your sermon, in Jesus', against the life 
 monastic, the monks nigh tore you to pieces 
 as ye came down from the pulpit ! The Car- 
 dinal thereupon owned you were well fitted 
 for the ofiice we needed one to fill, and was 
 besides moved with your evident danger, 
 abiding among the buncing black cattle 
 yonder !" 
 
 " I do indeed esteem the monks' whole 
 system to be founded on a fallacy — to be a 
 web of snares and delusions for the human 
 soul ! But may it then be. Master Cromwel, 
 that the light from Sinai has descended so 
 deep down in the vallies, that the truth and 
 simplicity of the Gospel should also find 
 favourers in the very centre of the Egyptian 
 darkness that overspreads the land ?" exclaimed 
 Roodspere, with rash eagerness. 
 
 " I hate the monks, and specially those of 
 Westminster ; there is gospel enow to serve 
 the turn," said Cromwell, drily. *' But, I pray 
 you. Master Roodspere, if you would not bring 
 your friends, as well as yourself, into jeopardy, 
 speak not this shibboleth of light and darkness
 
 THE DAYS or THE EEFOEMATION. 211 
 
 among us ! I hate the monks, and they me ! 
 Truly, there is such feud between Thomas 
 Cromwel and all colours of the cowl, that either 
 they or I must be rooted out of the land. I am 
 of those who either make or mar themselves 
 utterly in what they undertake; and I have 
 special cause, as I have said, to hate the 
 Westminster monks. Heard ye how their 
 rabble treated me when they hurtled me into 
 the Sanctuary ? They beat and abused me 
 into every colour of the rainbow, covered me 
 with tar— rolled me in Hunne's ashes, and 
 would have murthered me as a make-weight 
 to his tragedy, but that the monks grew afraid, 
 and sent orders to have me turned adrift ! 
 And now will you aid me in such a work as 
 to bring just judgment upon them — not 
 merely for their murther of Hunne, but for 
 all other their crying enormities, that do 
 daily call down upon them a blacker shower 
 than of old made Sodom and Gomorrah 
 wastes of fire and flame ?" 
 
 " With whatsoever means He who sent 
 that destruction down of old might sanction 
 now !" returned Roodspere, with a vehement 
 kindling of opinions which recent circum- 
 stances had roused to the strength of passions 
 in his heart. " But how say you, ' murther,'
 
 2X2 WESTMIKSTEE ABBEY; OH, 
 
 Master Cromwel? Deem you, as methinks 
 the Londoners did, that Mar chant Hunne came 
 unfairly by his end ?" 
 
 " Did I say * murther ?' " repeated Cromwel, 
 musingly. " Good troth, Master Logic, that 
 is one of the maziest of the puzzles I do 
 expect you to read me aright in the Abbey of 
 Westminster. But, in faith, I cannot well see 
 what the monks were to gain by murdering 
 him, seeing that they had him trussed and 
 ready for the spit, on lawful provocation ! 
 Unless some portion of what I did once take 
 for a jealous old man's ravings can be true ! 
 Else indeed I cannot devise why the monks 
 should take on them so odious and unneces- 
 sary a deed !" 
 
 " What jealous raving, master secretary ? 
 I heard, indeed, Hunne' s wife bore testimony 
 against him ; but on matters of religion 
 only !" said Roodspere, with much interest. 
 
 " You shall hear further — though I well 
 believe your zeal needs little quickening," said 
 Cromwel, with a smile. "I was Hunne's 
 advocate and legal prompter in the business 
 of the mortuary, as doubtless you have heard ; 
 and he confided so wholly in me, that I learned 
 what were his suspicions of his wife — which 
 were not unsupported by strong seemings !
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOKMATION. 213 
 
 She was a young and gainly woman, I have 
 heard, for I never saw her, but of a wilful wit 
 and ways. They told me she could dance 
 most feetishly, and sing like a thrush in May — 
 whereas Hunne was an old man, of a studious, 
 morose habitude, much given to religious 
 researches and inquiries — and, of consequence, 
 no doubt, as the monks suspected, more than 
 half way gone over to the new opinions. A 
 jealous old hunks, I can well imagine him — 
 and one that kept a gloomy house overhead. 
 Contrariwise, from all accounts, his wife was 
 given to the sports and junketings of youth, 
 and marvellously devote — to the shows, feast- 
 days, and merry-makings of the church ! 
 Hunne's house was likely enough to be dis- 
 tasteful to her, so, for he was of the new kind 
 of Lollards the French have got among them, 
 taught by one Calvinus, who do believe no 
 man shall be saved unless his visage vinegar 
 milk, and his garb out-gloom the gallows' 
 raven's ! 
 
 " Hunne himself confessed to me — not in 
 such form, mayhap — that, not content with 
 worrying his own mind to lick a file smooth, 
 he must trouble her silly woman's fancies with 
 his heresies. Marry, she left him as oft as 
 she might — at least so he made his plaint to
 
 214 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 me — at home with his wisdom, and sallied 
 forth on all manner of maygames and festivals, 
 which our merry-go-lightly church keeps under 
 the name of saints' days and pardonings. 
 Above all, frequenting the Abbey of West- 
 minster, under pl^a of a special devotion to 
 St. Edward. Rather, meseems, because there 
 are to be seen the gaudiest shows, and the 
 goodliest gestes, and romances are told in the 
 sermons, and the most luscious sweet music 
 is to be heard in the world, trilled from the 
 lips of young choir-boys and novices, whom the 
 j oily monks choicely pick out of all their vas- 
 salage for the purpose. But Hunne took it 
 into his husband's head that worse ill might 
 come of her gadding than a cold hearthstone 
 at home. Of old, he knew, the sons of God 
 could see that the daughters of men were fair, 
 and they are quick-sighted enow in such 
 matters still! In brief, Hunne liked his 
 wife's devotion so ill at last, that he forbade 
 her to frequent Westminster any more. 
 Thence quarrels endless arose between them ; 
 and, so powerfully wrought heaven's grace 
 within her, that, I heard from many quarters, 
 she would to Westminster, by stealth, whether 
 her husband willed it or nilled it ! 
 
 "At last a child was born to them, and
 
 THE DATS OF THE REFORMATION. 215 
 
 there was rest in the house awhile to nurse 
 it. But all of a sudden, the rage broke 
 out wilder than heretofore. Mistress Hunne 
 would go to give thanks for her first-born to 
 St. Edward. But piously unwilling to vex 
 her spouse, she went to the churching alone, 
 as to a holy work that needed no witnessing. 
 Natheless, her step-daughter, who loved her 
 not, and was indeed the older and the craftier 
 of the twain, took care to warn old Marchant 
 Hunne ; and he foHowed after her in a flaming 
 rage, to bring her back by the hair of her 
 head. Now mark you what he averred to 
 me !' — One of the monks there, suspecting no 
 harm, or willing to do a brother a mischief 
 who shamed all the rest by his learning and 
 sanctity, secretly informed Hunne where he 
 might find his wife — not even in one of their 
 snug chapels and confessionals, but in a cell 
 in the roof of the Abbey, which this holy 
 young Dunstan of whom I speak had fashioned 
 himself, and named after a canonized abbot of 
 theirs of yore — St. Wulfin's Hermitage ! The 
 false brother is now the Abbey Almoner ; but 
 you must care never to divulge the part he 
 took in the aflfair, or Prior Sancgraal would 
 speedily deprive me of a welUassured and 
 watchful spy and coadjutor !"
 
 216 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY J OK, 
 
 " Prior Sancgraal ? — the name haunts me ! 
 — some such strange one, methinks, the monk 
 had who gave Hunne's body to the flames ?" 
 said Roodspere, on wliose memory the particu- 
 lars of that hideous event were minutely 
 impressed, and who had heard so much of late 
 to revive them. 
 
 " Even so — he was but a simple monk, then, 
 of his degree, if not of his qualities," continued 
 Cromwel. " But peace — let me tell my tale ! 
 'Tis certain. Almoner Benson meant no ill, 
 and that he told Marchant Hunne how the case 
 stood purely to quiet his alarms, and the 
 shooting pains in his brows ! But rather it 
 added to them — for until then his wife had 
 always assured him that her confessor was a 
 certain dried old mummy of the Abbey, whose 
 chief pleasure is to whip himself for his 
 offences, and to harry the vassalage with all 
 manner of exactions — one Father Gislebert, the 
 treasurer. But now it appeared that it was 
 our beatified Dominus Sancgraal, who even 
 then was renowned for his bitter zeal against 
 the Lutherans, and the goodly shows and 
 legends he devised to please the people. I 
 own that he was already also held to be a 
 saint — but then he was but a young one !— 
 withered and deformed, it is also most true,
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 217 
 
 but endowed with a magic that wins well with 
 women, in the marvels of his story, and in his 
 glosing tongue ! Be it as it might, Hunne was 
 of a sudden as one possessed with all the fiends 
 of jealousy. And his despair moved charitable 
 Brother Quodvultdeus, of whom I spoke, to 
 such compassion that — to convince him how 
 mistaken he was — he showed him by what 
 means he might mount to the Hermitage, and 
 with his own eyes ascertain the groundlessness 
 of his suspicions ! 
 
 " Hunne afterwards avouched to me that of 
 his transit he remembered little more than that 
 the good brother, his informant, opened a 
 massive door in the south-west cross, wherein 
 were stairs that wound upward to the first 
 great gallery of the church. This he traversed, 
 and whirling up a second flight, he came into 
 a second gallery — thence into a third — and 
 thence by a winding staircase, black as doom, 
 to a strong-barred door, hung on the pillars of 
 an arch, at a dizzy height above the ground. 
 I shudder still when I bethink me what 
 desperate madness men's passions will make 
 possible ! The Hermitage of St. Wulfin, it 
 seems, is a vast loft in the roof of the Abbey, 
 extending over the chapels of the shrine and 
 other most ancient buildings of the church, to 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 218 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OH, 
 
 where it joins with the new chapel of our late 
 lord, King Henry VII. It is lighted from the 
 great tower of the transept, at a prodigious 
 height, by arched apertures, into which 
 scarcely a spider would seem to have room to 
 creep, with its venomous hunch, to one who 
 looks upward from the floor of the church. 
 But Marchant Hunne, finding the door was 
 barred, and that he could make no one hear 
 within — yea, and yet discerning his infant's 
 unhushed cry, adventured to clamber round 
 the pillar on which the door was hung, from 
 an archway in the clerestory where he stood, 
 to one of those narrow openings in the wall 
 of the Hermitage, having to stride the angle 
 of the tower — an old man, possessed and 
 frantic with his rage ! 
 
 "I must needs avow what Marchant Hunne 
 himself admitted : that he should have fallen, 
 and been dashed to pieces in the church 
 below, but for a strong arm that was stretched 
 out from the Hermitage, and drew him across 
 the gulf with a giant's grasp. Dominus Sanc- 
 graal himself saved him, Hunne denied not. 
 Yet I know not how — unless he can indeed 
 work miracles, or his heaped shoulders boast 
 a double pith and brawn ! But the wife was 
 there, in good faith, with her baby child, and
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFOEMATION. 219 
 
 fury deprived Hunne of all sense of gratitude 
 and thanksgiving. In vain did that godly young 
 monk explain to him, that his wife, discon- 
 tented with his refusal to have her churched 
 in the usual form, had come to him privately 
 for the purpose, not to infringe the obedience 
 a faithful woman owes to her spouse, in all 
 but unlawful commands. The contest grew 
 between them ; and Hunne, like a raving 
 madman, accused the good young monk of the 
 seduction of his wife, in plain terms ; which 
 he right soberly denied, and retaliated by de- 
 nouncing on him his secret heresies, and threat- 
 ening him with fire and faggot for his meed. 
 Thereupon Hunne snatched the child; and 
 because the woman resisted, they nigh rent 
 its little limbs between them, till the mother, 
 fearing to slay it, relinquished the prize. 
 Meanwhile, Dominus Sancgraal interposed, 
 and Hunne, finding no better could be done, 
 fled away with the babe, supposing its be- 
 reaved dam would certainly follow ! But it 
 was not so ; and the next news were that 
 Mistress Hunne had taken refuge from her 
 heretic husband's mad-dog rage in the Sanc- 
 tuary ! 
 
 " And thence no persuasions or entreaties 
 — not even the certainty that her child was
 
 220 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 withering and dying for lack of a mother's 
 milk and care — could ever bring her forth I 
 So when the deserted thing perished, Mar- 
 chant Hunne took a new obstinacy, and 
 refused to pay the mortuary on its winding- 
 sheet. But in truth, it had none : it was 
 buried, all the gossips said, as carelessly as a 
 dropped lamb. — It was about this season 
 Marchant Hunne came to me, as a client, 
 having heard, I doubt not, of my audacity in 
 pleading causes, being at the time rat-poor, 
 and willing to make or mar myself, as my 
 saying is, on any cast. You can keep a 
 Lollard's secret. Master Raodspere? — and 
 know that Hunne bitterly averred the child 
 was none of his — that a strange blood and 
 lineaments most visibly showed in all its cha- 
 racters ! Mayhap the step-daughter's rancour 
 suggested it ; but the thought worked like 
 mad yeast in his naturally choleric and seething 
 blood. And indeed I also thought it some- 
 thing hard layfolks should have to pay the 
 monks for burying their own bairns ! And 
 so we resisted them, step by step, as all Eng- 
 land has heard — until his implacable, over- 
 boiling rage, and my too deep skill, brought 
 us both to the very pitch of triumph and ruin 
 in the praemunire ! Oh, how he howled and
 
 THE DAYS OF THE HEPORMATION. 221 
 
 hugged me for very joy, when I showed him 
 my law in Richard XL's statute of provisors ! 
 Our Cardinal has violated that as much in 
 exercising his legacy by the Pope's authority — 
 but might makes right ! The monks were not 
 so propped — and, finding themselves in a cleft 
 stick, to get out of it, they reversed King 
 Alexander's plan to solve perplexities, and 
 tied a noose instead of cutting one ! — And 
 now, how say you. Master Roodspere ? Was 
 it not fitting I should enter my protest on 
 Hunne's behalf that day ?" 
 
 " Of proof direct, I espy none — and it were 
 scant justice to condemn men on surmises and 
 inimical conclusions," said Roodspere, with a 
 judicial gravity that made Cromwel secretly 
 smile. "These, as you have said, may be 
 but an old man's jealous fancies — for truly, 
 what needed the monks to do murther on a 
 prisoner whom they could so easily have con- 
 demned to an open and lawful (as they deem 
 it) doom ?" 
 
 "Unless to prevent Hunne's accusation of 
 their young saint! It would have given a 
 blur to his reputation, and old Gislebert is 
 known nigh to worship him, and to have 
 brought him up from infancy to fill a niche !" 
 replied the secretary. " But whither have we 
 
 u2
 
 222 WESTMINSTER ABBET ; OB, 
 
 wandered from the marrow matter of our dis- 
 course ? Neither for justice nor revenge only 
 have my policies been stirred against the 
 monks of Westminster. I have infinite other 
 reasons wherefore to begin with their Abbey ! 
 It is the wealthiest and mightiest monastery 
 in all England — it sets itself up as the cham- 
 pion and protector of the rest — and were 
 Westminster once ours, all the others would 
 ofi'er but a plucking of ripe fruit in season. 
 I purpose, then, to bring about its destruction, 
 and to render it the fitter, Westminster has 
 so grievously offended the Cardinal, that our 
 work is already three parts done." 
 
 *' Mean you that the Lord Legate purposes 
 the destruction of the monasteries of Eng- 
 land ?" exclaimed Roodspere, with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 '* Hist, man, speak low ! — though indeed 
 Thames only can be a-listening beneath these 
 windows !" said Cromwel, sinking his own 
 tones nevertheless to a whisper. " Hearken ! 
 I seek not to disguise from you. Master Rood- 
 spere, whom I take into all confidence, satisfied 
 that you must see I am already deep as the 
 bottom in yours — that the cardinal projects no 
 such mighty overthrow as yet ! He thinks only 
 to frighten the Westminster monks into giving
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEilATlON. 223 
 
 up their dispossessed brethrens' cause, and 
 yielding himself the sway in their monastery. 
 He also hates their now prior, and is resolved 
 he shall never be abbot, as the monks purpose 
 when their present old man drops into the 
 grave — whose time may be reckoned on the 
 hour-glass. Rather he is determined to secure 
 the election to himself. He will not succeed 
 in this project — will go angry, and crush them 
 all into the dust like pismires beneath an ox's 
 tread ! He who rolls a stone down a hill, 
 cannot stop it where he will !" 
 
 " But what can I do in the matter. Master 
 Cromwel? How serve your purposes ?" said 
 Roodspere. 
 
 " Like a terrier in a barn full of rats ! You 
 are to go among the Westminster monks as 
 the Lord Legate's visitor, to search into the 
 mystery of their iniquities, and furnish us with 
 pithy reasons for what is to be done !" replied 
 the secretary.
 
 224 WESTMINSTER ABBEY J OEj 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LILY YIEGIN. 
 
 None but who saw (quotli he) would ween forsooth 
 How shamefully that maid he did torment ! 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 As Visitor to Westminster Abbey ! Rood- 
 spere was greatly relieved when he heard this 
 explanation of the purpose of his mysterious 
 summons. Relieved from great anxiety on 
 the score of the danger that might be involved 
 in his own, to his friends and associates at 
 Cambridge ; and from a still more depressing 
 sentiment — the Cardinal's conduct towards 
 him no longer wore hues so unnatural and 
 repulsive, but was explained to the more en- 
 lightened, and thence more indulgent, reason 
 of the young reformer, by the superstition of 
 the age and of the man. The affection and 
 gratitude Wolsey had formerly inspired in 
 him revived like the rich colours of a picture 
 when a skilful hand has removed the dust and 
 rust of time. He forgot for_ awhile his more
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 225 
 
 recent unfavourable impressions, and an 
 emotion of filial tenderness flowed round his 
 heart like a stream long checked, that finds 
 again its wonted way. The ofiice thus indi- 
 cated was in congruiiy with his opinions and 
 favourite objects of pursuit. Against monas- 
 ticism — meaning by that word the whole 
 constitution and foundations of the monachal 
 system — all the views and efi'orts of the re- 
 formers were most vehemently enlisted. It 
 was based on the two dogmas most earnestly 
 repudiated and denounced by them — the belief 
 in purgatory, and in the eflEicacy of men's 
 works to obtain the remission of sins. The 
 first of these credences in its practical work- 
 ings, in the sale of the indulgences, and in the 
 demoralization of the people, had been the 
 very origin of Luther's resistance. The second 
 was utterly opposed to the doctrines of men 
 who ascribed all the hopes of human redemp- 
 tion to the expiation on the cross. The 
 monasteries were still the mightiest strong- 
 holds of the papistical system, and covered 
 Europe with fortresses of resistance and attack. 
 Their destruction would also furnish the mate- 
 rials for the raising of those new structures of 
 universal enlightenment and education which 
 the scholarly enthusiasm of Roodspere had
 
 226 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 always suggested to him as the most certain 
 means to advance the cause he had embraced 
 — lighthouses along the wreck-strewed and 
 iron-bound coasts of the ancient superstitions 
 which might guide remotest ages and nations 
 into redemption ! 
 
 The prospect of bringing to justice the 
 possible perpetrators of the direful tragedy of 
 Hunne — certainly his relentless persecutors — 
 of probing the dark mystery of his fate to its 
 depths — offered allurements to a natural 
 curiosity and a sense of the retribution due 
 for such enormities. Not to be thrown into 
 collision with the Cardinal, and yet to be 
 removed from any temptation or necessity of 
 joining in his nefarious enterprises, were addi- 
 tional attractions to the service on which it 
 seemed he was to be employed. His only 
 reluctance was expressed in the few words 
 with which he accompanied his acceptance of 
 the office. 
 
 " It is no part of my disposition to play the 
 spy and delator— to make myself the mouth- 
 piece of men's ill-report! But the wages of 
 sin are as surely due as those of eternal life ! 
 I will take the office, trusting also that therein 
 I may find the means of opening a lantern in 
 the darkness here too ! So nigh the court —
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 227 
 
 SO nigh the city ! with so fair a pretext as the 
 dispelling of the black fog of monkish igno' 
 ranee settled over Westminster! — whence, 
 could we expel the drones, as hath been done 
 elsewhere, it might become a hive of learning 
 and true wisdom unto all generations ! Master 
 secretary, I accept the office." 
 
 Cromwel smiled. " Put the wedge in any 
 notch thou wilt, so it but rive the wood!" he 
 said. " I wot well there is nothing like 
 leather ! You scholars are all for learning — 
 well, no matter — there will be enow for all — 
 let us not quarrel about the bearskin till we 
 have caught the bear ! We must engage men 
 by their interests to maintain a new order of 
 things ; Machiaval says so — a ripe Italian wit 
 and perfect master of all policy ! You will do 
 yourself, and those who have befriended you, 
 infinite good by your success in this office. 
 And in what regards the earthing of the foxes, 
 I will take the chief part of the toil and care 
 upon myself, for I have a better nose belike 
 for ill scents. Meanwhile you will prove to 
 the Cardinal, by your discreet handling of the 
 affair, and obedience in your charge, how 
 little cause he has to dread your horoscope." 
 
 " But deem you veritably we shall find 
 reasonable justification for so great a measure
 
 228 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 as the confiscation of a mitred abbey, in West- 
 minster ?" said Roodspere. 
 
 " If not, we must seek it — in the Cardinal's 
 indignation!" returned Cromwel. "He is 
 already enwrathed with them, as I have told 
 you — and not lightly, which you may well 
 opine when you shall hear the causes declared. 
 Now, firstly, the monks of Westminster have 
 been the most constant and earnest impugners 
 of the powers vested in his grace by his 
 legatine commission, and especially in the 
 dissolving of the beggarly cells and endow- 
 ments we have only as yet suppressed ! They 
 have allied themselves with my lord's worst 
 enemies in the court — with Norfolk, Sufi'olk, 
 and the Queen — so that we are mightily 
 harassed in all our doings. They have roused 
 the whole order of St. Benedict against us, 
 and bring us daily into worse liking with the 
 people, by their pestilent sermons and railing 
 discourses. And, of all, their buckfaced saint 
 is the prime leader and guide — the very heart 
 and soul of the entire faction, w^hich daily 
 strengthens in its insolence and opposition. 
 He has seen into our plans, and taught them 
 their power of resistance ! It is as if a herd 
 of oxen, which the butcher was quietly driving 
 to the slaughter-house, should suddenly become 
 
 4 
 
 \
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 229 
 
 aware of their doom, and of their bulky power 
 of beef and thews, and turn with frenzied 
 horns and roaring upon him ! This rebellion 
 hath also the rankling sting of ingratitude in 
 it, for the Cardinal shielded their treasurer 
 and his accomplices, to the great increase of 
 his own unpopularity, and the ill-will of the 
 Londoners, besides sustaining therein so rude 
 a jolt in the king's favour that perchance he 
 hath never since sate so rocky-fixed in it 
 again ! And, besides all this, they have 
 grievously ofi'ended him in a point of sway and 
 jurisdiction wherein he is infinitely absolute 
 and resolved — in the disposal of one of his 
 wards of the chancery !" 
 
 *' Of the daughter of Sir Amias Paulet :" 
 exclaimed Roodspere, with an eagerness that 
 might have excited CromweFs observation if 
 he had not been very much interested in the 
 subject himself. 
 
 " Ay, 'tis the common talk ! — or have you 
 taken special note of it, because the father 
 was the man who, for your sake, put your 
 father in the stocks :" said Cromwel, with 
 a doubtful smile. *' Truly, in this craft and 
 misdoing of the monks, I also am in some- 
 wise a suff'erer ! You know that it is one 
 of the king's royalties to give the custody of 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 230 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 the wards of his high Court of Chancery to 
 whom he pleases — and the governance and 
 care of a minor's estate is of good commodity 
 and profit to us well — deserving lacklands and 
 hangers-on of fortune in the court. Sir Amias 
 Paulet's health being broken by his long 
 dismal dwelling in the Sanctuary of West- 
 minster, he died shortly after his release, 
 in an unexpected suddenness, so that his 
 daughter became a ward of the king's, in 
 Chancery ; which I understanding, made suit to 
 his grace for the grant, and he being as liberal 
 and condescending to those who serve him, 
 as he is sharp and masterful to his oppugners, 
 without more ado than asking conferred upon 
 me. Now you are to understand it was my 
 ill-hap to put her for her schooling in the 
 nunnery of Clerkenwell, believing, as I had 
 good cause, for a great service and redemption 
 I had occasion to do to her of yore, that the 
 prioress there was devoted to my will and 
 interest. But gratitude hath a short memory, 
 or greed stifled it — for, whatever my Lady 
 Juliana pretends, she must needs have been 
 all along aware of the artifices set afoot, 
 shortly after his return from a long abode in 
 the foreign schools of the same, by this Prior 
 Sancgraal ! She well knew I had good hopes
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 231 
 
 and purposes so to rear this youthful lady 
 that, with the Cardinal's favour and further- 
 ance, and my diligence in the care of her 
 estate and person, I should in a manner 
 entitle me to herself in marriage, as a reward, 
 who am now something of a ripe bachelor, 
 and weary of my joyless freedom celibiacal ! 
 Moreover, an alliance with so noble a name 
 and the patrimony thence derived, would, me- 
 thought, have set me on the first round of a 
 preferment — which I think yet to achieve in 
 spite of all the greasy-pated friars in the 
 world ! But lo ye, Clerkenwell Nunnery is 
 a foundation and dependency of the Abbey of 
 Westminster ; and no sooner did this apish 
 fellow come home — for be it known to you 
 Prior Sancgraal affects the tricks of the old 
 miracle-mongers to the life — than he took 
 to meddling with everything ; and among the 
 rest, with my ward. All unknown to me, 
 poor innocent ! who was busied elsewhere, 
 and suspected no such cuckoos in my nest, 
 he got to persuade Mistress Paulet that the 
 only mean. "to work her own salvation, and 
 redeem her father's soul from the penalties 
 in which he wrought upon her to believe he 
 died, was to become a votaress of our Lady of 
 the Assumption. And she, being a milky.
 
 232 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OB, 
 
 blue-eyed simpleton, believed him, and grew 
 to fancy she had a special call to dedicate her- 
 self to the life of a frog in a well ! At last 
 she was emboldened by her advisers to declare 
 as much to me — who, you may believe, utterly 
 denied my consent. But, in scorn of my 
 refusal, the nuns openly permitted her to 
 assume the white veil of probation ; and, with 
 a marvellous obstinacy and boldness in one 
 so weak and wontedly meek, she avouched to 
 me her firm resolve to put on the black one 
 as soon as she could obtain her superior's 
 permission to that eflfect. Finding no better 
 could be done, and that her confessor, Sancgraal, 
 worked her as the mere puppet of his will, I 
 laid my just complaint before the Cardinal, 
 who, siding with me as a good lord should by 
 his vassal, ordered the damsel to be brought 
 before him, that by the awe of his person and 
 authority, he might exorcise her contradictious 
 demon, and win her to a submission. But, 
 Diavolo ! as the Italian says, I know not 
 what tricks of persuasion they had taught her ; 
 but after he had seen and conversed with her, 
 of a sudden the Cardinal took part against 
 me, and would have me to believe that she 
 was driven to her course by dislike and fear 
 of my wooing. Wherefore I was commanded
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOBMATION. 233 
 
 to cease it utterly, and to give her assurance 
 of the same ; after which, he said, he doubted 
 not to bring her to a more reasonable judg- 
 ment ; and his grace was pleased to add that 
 it was great folly and presumption in a man 
 so lowly born as, without doubt, T am — having 
 only a woman for a mother! — to aspire to 
 so noble an alliance. Howbeit, his grace, 
 I sometimes think, means her a greater shame 
 — if shame went ever in purple and fine linen, 
 and under cloths of estate ! Why do you 
 stare at me with such widening eyes, fair 
 clerk ? " 
 
 *' How mean you, sir ? That the Lord 
 Legate could project aught against the inno- 
 cence of this helpless girl ?" said Roodspere, 
 with a look of horror that in turn alarmed 
 Cromwel. 
 
 " I say not so — I know not so — I know no- 
 thing. His grace takes me not into his 
 counsels, you may believe, in this matter !" 
 replied Cromwel. " It may be that the Car- 
 dinal only projects, by letting her see the 
 extremity of earthly glory and delights — by 
 kind blandishments, and arguments which 
 women can understand — in the shape of 
 glistering silks and ornaments — to wean her 
 from her folly ! I am no jealous lover to 
 
 X 2
 
 234 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 suspect other ! But if so I am fairly avenged 
 on the monks — and, moreover, I have put 
 into the Cardinal's head a firm resolve that 
 whenever Abbot Islip dies, himself, and none 
 other, shall be his successor in Westminster. 
 This is his project — ours must be to drive 
 him on crushing the monkery by its ill suc- 
 cess — which is certain, for they are possessed 
 with a notion that Sancgraal was born to their 
 redemption, for that a lying-in woman, gone 
 delirious, followed a dream to the shrine of 
 St. Edward, and whelped him there !" 
 
 *' Heaven, in good sooth, must be aweary of 
 the system whereof these men and their deeds 
 are the true spawn ! " said Roodspere, with a 
 profound sigh. " But do you, indeed, suspect 
 this man — these monks of Westminster — of 
 being so much other than they seem r" 
 
 " Do I suspect the devil to be black, though 
 he wear a surplice of snow?" returned Cromwel, 
 with vehemence. " I will tell you more anon ! 
 — The monks of Westminster may keep their 
 sepulchre better whited than the rest, having an 
 abbot who is too old to gainsay, and a prior and 
 treasurer who are aware of what the times 
 demand ; one of whom would have men deem 
 him a saint, and the other is one, if fastings 
 and whippings, and prayers and dotage can
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 235 
 
 make a man so without the pope's patent ! 
 
 Ay, but this Sancgraal himself! I cannot 
 
 bring myself to believe that a monk, educated 
 
 in all the luxury and crapulence of a mitred 
 
 abbey, can be a saint ! Look at his sensual 
 
 and passion-seething countenance, with all 
 
 its mock humility ! List to the tone of his 
 
 discourses, more resembling a jongleur's lays 
 
 than a sober priest's ! Almoner Benson tells 
 
 me strange stories, too, of his gloomy and 
 
 rebellious youth — of the merciless training 
 
 bestowed upon him by Gislebert, which might 
 
 well fashion a hypocrite very difficult to 
 
 detect — but one indeed ! His pride and 
 
 malice and savage melancholy which won 
 
 him, even in childhood, the title of Brother 
 
 Lucifer, much more than his devil's hoof ! — 
 
 strange tales of him in his hermitage, averring 
 
 that there he studied magic under cover of 
 
 acquiring skill in medicine — and medicine, 
 
 that he might make the people imagine he 
 
 also hath the gift of healing ! And when old 
 
 Gislebert was imprisoned, they say, he took 
 
 his full share in the disorders and misrule 
 
 that ensued in the abbey ; insomuch that he 
 
 was sent on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, 
 
 and to study in the foreign universities, that 
 
 men might have time to forget the interlude
 
 236 WESTMiNsiER absey ; on 
 
 in his sanctity. In brief, Hunne's suspicions 
 are never well out of my mind — and I doubt 
 whether we know the worst of him yet, or by 
 what manner of spells he has wrought upon 
 this foolish novice of ours, against all rhyme 
 and reason, to dedicate herself in his nunnery 
 of Clerkenwell! But my Lord Cardinal will 
 doubtless screw the truth out of her to-day — 
 even women's craft were scarce Si match for 
 his ! Why do you change colour. Master 
 Koodspere ? Out upon me to forget how 
 hurriedly you have complied with my post- 
 scriptum, and how much you must need 
 refreshment and rest ! Well then, since my lord 
 is so busy swan -hopping to-day, we will abide 
 his leisure, and dine at the comptroller's table. 
 But how is this ? Why have you not donned 
 your doctor's violet robes ?" 
 
 Roodspere, thinking of far other things, 
 rallied sufficiently to confess, with some little 
 reluctance, that he had no better array in 
 which to present himself than that he 
 wore. Something he spoke of his hurried 
 departure — and then, in a braver spirit, he 
 acknowledged his poverty, and was silent. 
 
 " This is not well ! " said Cromwel, thought- 
 fully. " For so wise a man, the Cardinal is a 
 very woman in his eye for fine garniture ! And
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 237 
 
 yet it is well ! It will vex his grace to the 
 heart to see how poorly you are kept, by 
 Gardiner's procurement — and nature has fur- 
 nished you with a choicer suit than tailors 
 can fashion. Come with me now — we have 
 no other business here." 
 
 Roodspere could devise no plausible pretext 
 to remain ; yet he felt an extreme reluctance 
 to quit the gallery. All he had heard in- 
 creased his dread for the safety of the daughter 
 of Sir Amias Paulet, and it seemed to him as 
 if he were withdrawing some appointed pro- 
 tection from her, as he slowly followed in 
 Cromwel's steps. So strongly did this notion 
 work upon him that an irresistible power 
 appeared to check his steps as he passed the 
 door opening to the inner chambers of the 
 palace — and to compel him to halt before 
 that of Wolsey's oratory. 
 
 " What is the matter ? Why stare you so 
 planet-struck ?" said Cromwel. 
 
 *' Hush ! do you not hear voices, master 
 secretary ? A woman's voice in lamenting 
 beseeching?" exclaimed Roodspere, turning 
 deadly pale. 
 
 " In the Cardinal's oratory ? Not I, in- 
 deed!" 
 
 *' Listen then !"
 
 238 "WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 And a female voice could then be distinctly 
 heard, in raised and affrighted accents — the 
 voice of the daughter of Sir Amias Paulet — 
 proceeding from the chamber. 
 
 " Let me forth, let me forth ! I will tarry 
 no longer with thee, wicked Cardinal ! This 
 is no holy shriving ! — I will say no more, nor 
 hear ! I hate thee and all thy pomp and 
 riches worse than the fiend and his fiery claws ! 
 I will go to our mother and my sisters ! Let 
 me forth, in our blissful Lady's name, or I will 
 make such an outcry as shall summon the 
 whole world to witness how unlike a priest 
 and holy churchman you do entreat me here !" 
 These were the words. 
 
 " Peace, foolish girl ! — like all thy race, of 
 evil and undutiful tongue ! — whom canst thou 
 summon in this palace that will dare to 
 cross my will ? Yea, or throughout the land 
 of England ?" returned the loud and imperious 
 — else it could not have been so distinctly 
 overheard — and yet agitated voice of Wolsey. 
 " Peace ! or I will stifle thy causeless clamours 
 in a strange sort ! — What ails thee, sweet 
 simpleton, to be so scared ? What have I 
 done to thee ? I might not refrain ! Were thy 
 cheeks the fruit of Paradise that lured to per- 
 dition, I must needs have devoured after
 
 THE DATS or THE EEFORMATION. 239 
 
 savouring their sweetness ! — Give me my 
 kisses back again, if they displease thee. — I 
 have other uses for my gifts than to bestow 
 them on those who show themselves un- 
 grateful even in the receiving ! But, nay, 
 let them nestle in thy snowy sweetness here 
 — they are but the billings of a loving bird ! 
 What doth the harmless bee in the lily's 
 bosom, thy namesake, but gather sweets ?^ 
 How, pretty heretic, darest thou be disobe- 
 dient unto us, our lord the pope's vicar ?" 
 
 " My gracious lord ! — you wot well, I 
 have a peculiar call — I am betrothed to 
 Him who is thy lord as well as mine ! I 
 hate the glare of the world, and all its 
 pomps and vanities ! Only by my dedication 
 can I redeem my father's soul from purga- 
 tory — mayhap from eternal fires ! Your 
 sternness drove him thither ! for how could he 
 believe. — I pray you pardon me, my lord !— 
 but I do oft see him in very frightful dreams, 
 wandering like a shape of fire through the 
 black mists of hell, and shrieking to me to 
 have mercy upon him and redeem his forfeit 
 soul !" replied those afirighted tones. The 
 answer was in a lower but eager and im- 
 passioned utterance, which only the sense of
 
 240 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ', OR, 
 
 hearing strained to the uttermost could have 
 caught. 
 
 " What have these mad monks put into her 
 head ? — Sweet child ! I have plenary powers.— 
 I will set thy father free from all penalties, if 
 thou wilt love me as I love thee ! Yea, 
 boundlessly much I love thee, my little panting 
 goldfinch ! Dost thou not see how bright a 
 cage I have prepared for my delight ? Wilt 
 thou not, then, tarry in it, and sing ' Sweet, 
 sweet, sweet,' for evermore with him who, for 
 very love, has stolen his gentle bird's nest, and 
 brought it hither home ? Or dost thou doubt, 
 my lily, that I should fail in my promises — 
 yea, and a thousand fold their fulfilling — when 
 thou art mine ? Dost thou think I could joy 
 to go to my supremacy in Rome so lonely and 
 all-abandoned by those I love ? No, I would 
 go like the flowering oak, covered with my 
 blossoms, that men may know it is no aged 
 stem, but the sire of a forest that is trans- 
 planted thither ! — Nay, an thou doubt me, put 
 me to my oath, and, all respects laid aside, I 
 will swear till thou believe ! " 
 
 " I need no oaths — you do afiright me, my 
 lord ! Let me go, o'God's name, and I will 
 not be so peremptory to take on me our lady's
 
 THE DAYS OP THE REFOEMITION. 241 
 
 weed, until you give me fair leave !" returned 
 the affrighted girl. 
 
 "Hear you now, Master Cromwel?" mut- 
 tered Roodspere, in a low hoarse whisper. 
 
 "What is to be heard? What ails you, 
 sir? The Cardinal "is mad! — He would but 
 bring this obstinate girl to a fitting obedience," 
 said the secretary, who was nevertheless ex- 
 tremely agitated. 
 
 " Ay, truly ! Of old, he used craft ; hath 
 bis unmastered villany passed on now to 
 violence ?" returned the same husky tones. 
 
 " That is something to promise ; but, sweet, 
 you must show your obedience more perfectly 
 — by consenting to abide in my palace hence- 
 forth ! — I am the king's master of the wards, 
 and you may well do so without scandal or 
 offence ; and you will stay with one, sweet 
 thing, who is the master of England, but who 
 —but who worships thee thus !" returned 
 Wolsey, in fond and cajoling tones that 
 sickened Roodspere's inmost heart. 
 
 *' I will not, I will not ! I will rather go to my 
 father's grave, whither you sent him long be- 
 fore his time, cruel Cardinal, with all his 
 compelled sins upon his head !" was the vehe- 
 ment rejoinder — suddenly changed into tones 
 of terror and entreaty. " But approach me 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 242 WESTMINSTEB ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 not, I say ! or I will shriek so loudly that the 
 angels of heaven shall come to mine aid, if 
 none of your base vassalage dares ! Help, 
 mother of God! alma redemploris mater, 
 help !" 
 
 A fist, clenched like a knob of steel, thun- 
 dering rather than rapping at the exterior of 
 the oratory door, responded to this appeal 
 
 " The Cardinal is mad ! but are you madder 
 still r" exclaimed Cromwel. 
 
 " Open the door ! What evil is at work 
 within here ? Open, or I summon the 
 Cardinal's guard!" cried a voice, fraught with 
 the dismal undertones of the coming hurri- 
 cane. 
 
 " Well bethought of ! Feign that you think 
 the Cardinal himself in danger ?" whispered 
 Cromwel. 
 
 " Who is there ? Who dares to intrude 
 upon my privacy ? I am the Cardinal of York — 
 All is well — begone !" returned the haughty 
 and imperious tones of Wolsey. 
 
 " All is not well ! Who calls within ? What 
 is ado ? No Cardinal of York would fright a 
 woman into these outcries !" retorted the un- 
 welcome summoner. 
 
 '* No, no, good sir ! kind voice ! — I am 
 evil entreated here ! Take me forth, in our
 
 THE DATS OF THE KEFOKMATION. 243 
 
 sweet mother's name, ever a virgin ! Of her 
 mercy, save me that am her votaress, and Sir 
 Amias Paulet's daughter, in infinite danger of 
 mine honour from this false — " But the 
 outcry was suddenly stifled, as if by some 
 violent means, for a noise of struggling and 
 of suppressed shrieks was audible within. 
 
 " Open the door, Cardinal ! or I will batter 
 it down, and make your own slaves the wit- 
 nesses of your vileness ! " returned the 
 scarcely articulate tones of Roodspere, after 
 renewed thunder of rappings at the door. 
 
 " Why who art thou that dar'st to make 
 question with us ? I am Wolsey, the Cardinal ! 
 As thou wouldst shun my consuming wrath, 
 depart ! " said the lordly voice within. 
 
 " Oh, it is he ; it is he ! he is still here ! 
 Help, gentle clerk ! A wolf ravens me in 
 this den ! Oh, as thou didst boast thyself ere- 
 while my father's true vassal, defend his 
 daughter now ! She is in danger of her honour, 
 and so of her life !" burst in half-choked 
 intervals from the lips of the bewrayed daughter 
 of Sir Amias Paulet. 
 
 " Nay, then, I must make me a way to the 
 rescue !" returned Roodspere, rending at the 
 door of the oratory with a frenzied violence, 
 that seemed likely enough to effect its object.
 
 244 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 " My lord, my lord ! Open, I beseech you ! 
 Here are sudden news — unexpected despatches 
 from Rome which demand instant expedition !" 
 interposed Cromwel, restraining by main force, 
 though with difficulty, this violent onset. 
 
 " What is the matter, Cromwel ? — Peace, 
 obstinate fool, if thou wouldst not. — Thou 
 shalt be let forth, Lily — Lily mine ! Be but 
 calm and patient, silly girl ! I meant no such 
 folly as thou dost image thee in thy girlish 
 simplicity ! Thou shalt return to thy convent 
 if — peace, peace, I say ! What are the news, 
 Cromwel, that make such assault and battery 
 of haste at our doors ? Seest thou, sim- 
 pleton ? I will let thee forth !" said Wolsey, 
 in broken and exceedingly agitated tones ; and 
 finding no better could be done to silence the 
 importunate clamour without, and within, he 
 unbolted the door of the oratory, opened it, 
 and stepped forth with a lofty and majestic 
 stride, endeavouring to close the door of the 
 chamber after him. This movement brought 
 him face to face, and almost breast to breast, 
 with the unretiring personage of Raphael 
 Roodspere — and of a sudden the Cardinal 
 waxed lividly pale as a condemned criminal, 
 and staggered back, like a man struck by some 
 powerful physical blow ! The oratory door.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 245 
 
 abandoned in this shock of feeling, flew back, 
 and the novice glided cowering out like a bird, 
 fluttering and almost expiring from its cap- 
 turer's rude hands. She had, indeed, scarcely 
 strength left to totter up to Roodspere, and 
 murmur, " Save me, save me from worse than 
 death!" ere she fainted in the arms that were 
 extended compassionately and lovingly as its 
 nest receives the throbbing fugitive back 
 again. 
 
 " Yea, to the death ! — poor orphan, yea ! 
 — against the whole world in arms !" 
 
 There was a pause — a frightful pause — such 
 as precedes the commencement of some great 
 strife, when the dread concentration of 
 men's thoughts and energies allows of no 
 attempt at utterance — scarcely to draw the 
 breath of life ! During this pause the father 
 and son gazed at each other stedfastly and in 
 utter silence. 
 
 Wolsey stood on the threshold of his oratory, 
 which had witnessed the incubation of so many 
 of his dark and dangerous policies, fixed as a 
 statue — and with very much the look of one, for 
 the dark beads of agitation that ran down his 
 visage might have been taken for the dews on 
 some sepulchral marble, in an antique Gothic 
 aisle. But the chamber whence he had 
 
 y2
 
 246 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 emerged rather resembled the cave of some 
 Eastern genie, blazing with a sunglow of 
 jewels and gold,^than the devote retirement 
 of an ecclesiastic of the west. So dazzling 
 was the eflfect of the cloth-of-gold with which 
 it was hung, its stained windows, and gorgeous 
 furniture, that, if an oratory, it seemed as if 
 only emperors and kings were worthy to pray 
 in it. But an altar there visibly was within, 
 covered with ornaments of beaten gold, sur- 
 rounded by blazing tapers, that burned day- 
 light — censers were still smoking with rich 
 perfumes on its steps — magnificently bound 
 massbooks and other necessaries for the cere- 
 monial worship which, at all events, Wolsey 
 never neglected, were profusely scattered 
 about. And in his person and array, the 
 master of all this grandeur did it no discredit. 
 Wolsey was a man of good, though not of 
 lofty stature, with a countenance that, but for 
 the traces of advancing years, and a slight 
 defect in the vision of one of the eyes, might 
 have been pronounced eminently handsome, 
 and of a princely dignity and graciousness. 
 He wore the crimson robe of a cardinal, but- 
 toned down the cape with large rubies, over 
 skirts of gold lace ; beneath which his feet, 
 in slippers of the precious metal polished.
 
 THE DAYS or THE EEPORMATION. 247 
 
 seemed already to claim the pontifical honours 
 of osculation ; and his broad hat was ribanded 
 with diamonds of extraordinary lustre. Such 
 was the imposing and magnificent personage 
 who now quailed beneath the rebuking and 
 yet mournful gaze of an ill-clad, poverty- 
 stricken student — a young and all-unfriended 
 stranger ! 
 
 " Why, Cromwel, how is this ? — who is 
 this ?" gasped the Cardinal at last. 
 
 *' I am one Raphael Roodspere, my Lord 
 Cardinal of York ! — a priest, and therefore 
 bound to protect innocence ; a man, and there- 
 fore to protect the honour of a woman and an 
 orphan ! — vassal-born of the Lords of Hinton, 
 and therefore bound to protect their daughter 
 with my life ! — The which I will even to my 
 last gasp, if the fiend you serve shall put it 
 into your heart to spill this your unlawful 
 blood in my veins !" was the awful response. 
 
 *' Hopkins was a true soothsayer ! — or do I 
 dream ?" said Wolsey, staring with something 
 of incredulity at the vehement speaker. " So ! 
 thou art returned to my house — an untaught 
 prodigal — to shame and blacken me before 
 mankind, and make a foolish cloistress's 
 vanity and silly fears credible in the tale !" 
 
 " No, my lord Cardinal ; say rather I have
 
 248 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 returned to save you from a deadlier sin tlian 
 any you have yet committed, in the destruction 
 of this holy innocent's most precious dower 
 from heaven !" replied Roodspere, and his 
 tones were calm with excess of emotion. 
 
 *' Roodspere, it is not so ! Master doctor, 
 it is false, utterly false !" said Wolsey, some- 
 what regaining his self-possession. "I do 
 appeal to herself; her senses have returned 
 methinks, or it was but one of her sex's wonted 
 artifices to win compassion by feigning to lose 
 them! She is my ward and penitent, and 
 I was but needfully examining her conscience 
 to discover the causes of her most irreligious 
 disobedience, when — " 
 
 " No, gentle clerk ! no, I am not his grace's 
 penitent — Prior Sancgraal is my confessor — 
 a most holy and religious man !" sobbed Lily 
 Virgin, reviving, but still bewildered, from her 
 trance. " Prior Sancgraal has coffers full of 
 gold that he values not ; he will reward you 
 most lavishly, if you will save me from this 
 man ! And I have gold, too, of mine in- 
 heritance, fair scholar ! — I will give all to 
 depart hence unscathed !" 
 
 " Ay, Prior Sancgraal ! Prior Sancgraal !" 
 repeated Wolsey, disorderedly. " Master 
 Roodspere ! I would but have discovered by
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMA.TION. 249 
 
 what artifices that audacious monk has cor- 
 rupted all virtue of obedience in this unhappy 
 child ! — I doubt, I doubt the worst ! For all his 
 fair seemings, I doubt, I doubt he has abused 
 the powers he hath usurped over her to her 
 utter ruin ! How else hath he obtained to 
 render so young and else gentle and submis- 
 sive a creature, so obstinately rebellious as to 
 refuse to confess to me, who stand in our 
 holy father the Pope's yery person to her ?'* 
 
 " Ah, wicked Cardinal ! — It was not so, 
 gentle clerk !" said Lily Virgin, quickened into 
 vehement life by indignation. "This false 
 priest did rather kneel, as he said, in con- 
 fession unto me ; professed an unholy love for 
 me — a love which no man of God, under his 
 damnation, may cherish for any woman crea- 
 ture ! — feigned that he had hung his chambers 
 with silver and gold and costly tapestries for 
 me alone ; and would have had me tarry in 
 them with the Seven Deadly Sins that do 
 ever haunt in his company, and become his 
 shameful leman and love ! And then he promised 
 that I should share all his wealth and power 
 in England ; should go with him anon to Italy, 
 the which he says is the very paradise of the 
 earth, to reign with him over kings and princes 
 there ! Yea, and to make most foul seem fair,
 
 250 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 he promised to wed me to some courteous 
 gentleman of his house, who would give me a 
 fair title of wifehood, and ask only my lord's 
 favour for his pains !" 
 
 *' The girl is mad ! or rather she inherits 
 her father's slanderous tongue ! — She foully 
 belies me. Master Koodspere ! — She is of the 
 faction of the monks, and of the devil-clawed 
 jackal of the Abbey ! He has put her on this 
 leasing ; or her own vain supposal ; or, to 
 speak God's truth," said Wolsey, in ex- 
 treme confusion, " if I did put these solicita- 
 tions on her, I did it but to sound her — to 
 ascertain me if the pestiferous monk had won 
 her by promises to share the state he hopes 
 for himself, as the wealthy and mitred abbot 
 which he shall never be ! I did outbid his 
 farthest wildness, to know if it were thus ; and 
 the bedazzled simpleton takes all in earnest ! 
 Let her return then to her paltry convent, and 
 dower it with a beggared inheritance — for 
 such her father's folly left it to her, and my 
 good tilth and husbandry are not to be taken 
 into the account ! — Go, silly wench, to your 
 gloomy cloister, go ! You will live to lament 
 the day when you gave up all the delights of 
 earth for — no matter ; time brings wisdom, 
 but as late as flowers to the dead ! And look,
 
 THE DAYS OF THE BEFOEMATION. 251 
 
 on pain of the curse and ban of the church, 
 that you repeat not your slanders and most 
 false imaginings in any other ears ! Even be- 
 neath this golden palace of our state we have 
 places of rebuke for such as merit it, where 
 the sun hath forgotten his way for aye ! 
 Return to Dame Juliana and your sisters at 
 the banquet ! I will make no farther means 
 to save you from their crafty enticements, and 
 Prior Sancgraal's sortilege." 
 
 " Nay, my lord Cardinal, it were fitter that 
 she left the palace and returned to her nun- 
 nery at once ! — 111 tongues have already 
 discoursed of her presence herein," said 
 Roodspere, in tones of steely determination, 
 that exercised a singular influence even over 
 the mighty master of the mansion. 
 
 " Why, let her go, I care not ! Cromwel, 
 go and see her forth with the rest of her 
 undutiful sisterhood, administering such sharp 
 rebukes to my lady prioress as you may well 
 remember and perceive she has deserved !" 
 he said, yet resuming as much of his custo- 
 mary stateliness of supremacy as he could rally. 
 Cromwel readily advanced, in hopes to con- 
 clude the perilous debate, but Lily Virgin 
 shrunk from him with an expression of almost 
 equal alarm as from the cardinal. " No, no,
 
 252 WESTMINSTER ABBET ; OR, 
 
 I will trust me only to this gentle clerk ! He 
 is my father's rassal — he will not betray me !" 
 she exclaimed, clinging with childlike im- 
 plicitness and confidence to Roodspcre, -who, 
 much affected, took her hand and murmured, 
 " I will not desert you, lady — I will see you 
 safely forth or meet my doom upon the way !" 
 
 " Let it be so — lead to the privy chambers, 
 Cromwel — my business with Master Rood- 
 spere can be despatched on his return, which 
 I will tarry here !" said Wolsey, throwing 
 himself into a richly gilt arm-chair with a 
 bitter and dissatisfied laugh, butVilh a gesture 
 which Cromwel thought it best to accept as a 
 comman4. Accordingly he threw open the 
 door of the neighbouring corridor, and hastily 
 drew Roodspere into it with the trembling 
 novice hanging on his arm. 
 
 With the swiftness and something of the 
 confusion of the passage of evenis in a dream 
 — pouring a torrent of soothing and tender 
 expressions which he had not known till now 
 were at his command — Roodspere followed 
 in the rapid wake of the secretary. He noticed 
 little of the splendid series of apartments they 
 traversed, the Venetian mirrors, the superb 
 tapestry; the sideboards covered with rich plate, 
 and the floors with the then almost unknown
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 253 
 
 luxury of carpets, or polished to a mirror-like 
 brightness in costly woods. He observed 
 only the flushed and tearful visage of the 
 novice, listened only to her musical murmurs 
 of gratitude and trust — in which there was 
 but one jar — the frequent iteration of the 
 name of the Prior of Westminster, as a party 
 to the sentiments thus sweetly expressed. In 
 this manner they entered the magnificent ban- 
 queting chamber of the privy chambers, where 
 the nuns of Clerkenwell and their prioress were 
 seated at a sumptuous dessert. The viands 
 were, however, untouched, as if they awaited 
 some superior presence ; but all save Sister 
 Barbara were joyously laughing at some jest of 
 the Cardinal's fool, who was evidently engaged 
 in his office of mirth-making. Mark Smea- 
 ton, the musician, was also there, with what 
 would in modern times be called his band, 
 seated in a low gallery that ran round the 
 chamber — also seeming to await some great 
 arrival to recommence his harmony. 
 
 The sudden apparition of Cromwel, followed 
 by so unexpected a group, created an imme- 
 diate sensation. Dame Juliana seemed 
 especially alarmed, and arose with an appear- 
 ance of the most fluttered consternation as 
 soon as she espied the secretary. Reason 
 
 YOL. I. z
 
 254 WESTMINSTEB ABBEY ; OB, 
 
 good was speedily afforded in the severe 
 speech which the latter launched at her. " So, 
 madam, you have done as I so oft warned 
 you in vain you would, and completed the 
 measure of his grace's indignation ! who com- 
 mands that you all instantly depart with 
 your rebellious novice, and never again 
 venture in his sight till ye are prepared with 
 an utter submission to win pardon for the 
 past." 
 
 " All honour and laud to our blessed Lady 
 of Sorrows! My prayers are heard!" said 
 Sister Barbara with edifying solemnity. 
 
 " Master Cromwel, I am in no wise to 
 blame ! My sisters disdain all counsel and 
 subjection !" exclaimed the prioress with 
 visible agitation. 
 
 " Natheless you must bear the blame of 
 whatsoever turns amiss! High place hath 
 that pinch in his golden shoe, which we also 
 are bounden in much sufferance to know," 
 said Cromwel, sharply — concluding more 
 benignantly. " But now leave the palace in 
 peace — and mayhap you will hear no more, till 
 you offend worse, of this unpleasing matter." 
 
 " What, is his grace reconciled — or hath 
 our sweet child seen what folly it is to desire 
 to be one of us, poor, wailing, peevish, discon-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOBMATION. 255 
 
 tented prisoners ?" responded Dame Juliana, 
 with a glance of amazed query at the pair 
 before her. 
 
 *' She is forbidden under no less a forfeit 
 than excommunication, to declare what has 
 passed — or ye to question her!" said Cromwel, 
 impressively. " Meanwhile his grace would 
 have ye gone, for let me tell you, lady prioress, 
 your visitation to a lone clergyman, as well ye 
 wot, may give scandalous tongues leave to 
 talk ! This young clerk and I will see you to 
 the gates ; after which we have pressing 
 business waits us back again." 
 
 This hint was not of a nature to be mis- 
 understood ; and the prioress, deeply colouring 
 at the included hint, prepared to obey. " 'Tis 
 a pity, by my fay, madam," said the jester, 
 with a whine that seemed natural to his 
 tones. *' I am in as rare fooling this noon- 
 day as if it were yuletide, and every man had 
 his full of the berry-brown ! Yet there is no 
 help for it — good company must part — unless 
 ye will take me with ye, and make supposal 
 of a devout chaplain in me for awhile !" 
 
 " And rarely of a suit, fool !" said Cromwel, 
 with asperity. "Nay, Master Roodspere, let 
 the mother of the novices lead this damsel of 
 ours — I promise ye, sister Barbara is fitted to
 
 1 
 
 256 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OR 
 
 be dame superior to the eleven thousand I 
 
 virgins of Cologne ! And now lead on : what 
 is too choice a dainty for the master, is surely 
 too good for the man !" 
 
 The procession was by this time marshalled, 
 and the nuns quitted the splendid saloon in 
 which they had been entertained, to what 
 sounded, even in their ears, like a mocking as 
 well as revellous march, from Smeaton and his 
 musicians in concert.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 257 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE OLD CHURCH AND THE NEW. 
 
 Exceeding wise, fairspoken, and persuading. 
 
 Shakesperb. 
 There, as in glist'ring glory she did sit. 
 
 She held a great gold chain, ylinked well, 
 
 Whose upper end to highest Hearen was knit, 
 
 And lower part did reach to lowest hell ! 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 Lily -Virgin, trembling in every fibre, 
 seemed to have but one object — to preserve 
 but one recollection — and hurried Sister Bar- 
 bara's stiflf but not unwilling frame into an 
 unwonted jolt of exertion, in hastening out of 
 those dangerous walls. Roodspere shared her 
 impatience, doubting even yet of her safety, 
 and indifferent to every other consideration. 
 He did not even hear, much less attend to, the 
 exclamations and questionings of Dame Ju- 
 liana — and never had the open sky appeared 
 so beautiful a spectacle to him as when he now 
 emerged into a courtyard of the palace beneath 
 it. This also belonged to the Cardinal's pri- 
 
 z 2
 
 258 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 vate suite of chambers ; and here the nuns, 
 according to their superioress, had left their 
 equipage. It was evident they were intended 
 to make a longer stay than they had made, for 
 no vehicle of any sort was visible. Cromwel's 
 imperious summons, however, speedily brought 
 some attendants from a neighbouring lodge, 
 with whom the rustic yeomen who escorted 
 the nuns of Clerkenwell were engaged in what 
 was evidently a wassail pottle-deep. The tone 
 of his commands banished all ideas of revelry 
 here also, and produced from the stables, in 
 extraordinarily brief time, a team of large 
 Flanders horses, drawing a long wagon, on 
 wheels painted blue and crimson, covered with 
 a silk awning on gilded poles, hung with 
 curtains, and cushioned with wisps of fine 
 white straw, which composed what was called 
 a chariot in those days, and was considered a 
 proper equipage for ladies of rank and con- 
 sideration like the nuns of Clerkenwell. 
 
 Into this vehicle Lily- Virgin made such 
 haste to enter that she even forgot her usual 
 humility and deference to the Lady Superior, 
 and took the precedence so hurriedly that she 
 stumbled on the wheel as she mounted its 
 double spokes, which were the only steps. 
 But again the guardian hand of Roodspere and
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFORMATION. 25^ 
 
 his watchful diligence preserved her from the 
 injury that might have ensued. While thus 
 aiding her to climb the carriage he noticed, for 
 the first time, with an inexpressible depth of 
 indignation, the disorder of her hair and of the 
 white folds that covered her fairer neck and 
 bosom. She seemed, indeed, like a snowy 
 dove that had escaped from the hawk's rifling, 
 with the marks of the ravager's beak in all its 
 torn plumage and palpitating frame ! And now, 
 also, for the first time, as it seemed, the agi- 
 tated fugitive remembered that the escape she 
 had efi'ected involved a frightful amount of 
 risk to her generous deliverer. She clasped 
 Roodspere's aiding hand wildly, perhaps scarce 
 consciously, in both her own, and exclaimed, 
 *' Oh, thankless wretch that I am ! — to for- 
 get how the cruel Cardinal will visit all his 
 vengeance upon you, gentle clerk ! — Come with 
 us, come with us — we shall then all be saved 
 together ! Dear Lady Mother, he has saved 
 me — he has saved me — alas, I may not say 
 from what vileness ! — but let him have refuge 
 in our house, and go with us thither even 
 now ! — or it were better, oh, yes, it were better, 
 if, dearest sir, you took sanctuary in West- 
 minster, where Prior Sancgraal will, for 
 my sake, maintain you against all harm and
 
 260 WESTMINSTEB ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 seizure, dearer than were you of his own heart's 
 blood and lineage !" 
 
 " Our poor house is truly bound by its rule 
 to use hospitality — and specially to all clerical 
 wayfarers — you shall be very welcome, sir, if — 
 but, my child, cover yourself ! — see you not in 
 what disarray your giddy haste has thrown 
 you !" said Dame Juliana. 
 
 Blushing the rosiest tint of virgin modesty, 
 the young novice abandoned her hold of Rood- 
 spere's hand, and cowering into her bosom 
 hastily drew her dishevelled hair and robes 
 around her — well assisted by the trembling 
 and bony but very zealous hands of Sister 
 Barbara. It might have been a nymph of 
 Diana, surprised bathing, who drew the very 
 waters around her in her fright ! 
 
 " Hillo, Dame Juliana ! would you set your 
 fingers a-bleeding again with sweet-briars?" 
 interposed Cromwel, sternly. *' And for Prior 
 Sancgraal and Westminster, trust me, they will 
 see this young canonist sooner than they need 
 desire ! — Meanwhile, Mistress Paulet, lay by 
 this silly fear with the rest — Master Roodspere 
 is of so near parentel to my lord, that Abraham 
 and Ishmael were of the like, if the old king 
 of sheep and camels had sent for his lad home 
 instead of turning him adrift in the desert ! "
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOKMATION. 261 
 
 Roodspere's pale countenance caught the 
 flame of the painful emotion that continued to 
 glow in Inly- Virgin's sweet face — while the 
 prioress looked at him with intensely eager 
 curiosity. But at this moment Master Caven- 
 dish joined the group, bearing also marks of 
 the agitated state of feeling which seemed to 
 have spread in the palace, having, in fact, all 
 the appearance of a man who had received a 
 severe rating. The gentleman-usher brought 
 word that his grace required the immediate 
 presence of Master Roodspere and his secre- 
 tary, having other very pressing business 
 abroad, and Cromwel,. with scant courtesy, 
 hurried the prioress and the rest of the nuns 
 into their chariot. Tears continued to flow in 
 uncounted pearls down Lily- Virgin's cheeks ; 
 but the impatient secretary even rudely inter- 
 rupted the final farewell she exchanged with 
 her rescuer, by giving a signal to the yeomen 
 wagoners to drive on, and in a few instants 
 the whole huge vehicle rumbled out of the 
 yard. 
 
 " And now, come, master scholar, most im- 
 mediately to his grace ! He seemed in a 
 manner moonstruck when he heard how long 
 delay had been already made while you were 
 waiting in the gallery ! Your business must
 
 262 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 have a hot spur in it, and be of great moment, 
 since my lord ordains that on no account 
 should you quit the palace till he has spoken 
 with you ? " said Cavendish, with perhaps a 
 delicate and discreet feel to ascertain what this 
 wonderful business might be. 
 
 " We are coming ! Cheer up, Master Rood- 
 spere — well handled, there is nothing to fear 
 in this business ! Never saw I any man — I 
 doubt if any angel might either — who exer- 
 cised a stranger magic on the Cardinal than 
 you ! Your genius rebukes his — you are the 
 young Octavius to our Mark Antony ! " whis- 
 pered Cromwel, adding, in a still lower and 
 more emphatic tone, " O' God's name, muster 
 your spirits, and by some apt submission bring 
 us out of this strait ! If not, we are all lost 
 — thy friends at Cambridge, too ! Did not 
 Bilney tell thee how the devilish prior there 
 harried him in his examinations in the chapter- 
 house of Westminster — and will you not harry 
 him in turn ? Courage ! or we shall have 
 more need of it anon." 
 
 " I fear nothing, Master Cromwel ! — nothing 
 for myself — yet I have more cause than you 
 deem of," replied Roodspere, who had now 
 little doubt that Wolsey's new apprehensions 
 were excited by the discovery that his discourse
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFORMA.TION. 263 
 
 with the king's confessor might have been 
 overheard. " Let us on : I am ready and equal 
 now to any fate ! " 
 
 Crotnwel liked not the ominous serenitude 
 of this reply ; but he felt the danger of pressing 
 for explanations before Cavendish, and from a 
 man whose imprudence he had so lately and 
 signally witnessed. Meanwhile, he saw with 
 alarm that an impression of some sternly 
 fixed determination settled over Roodspere's 
 visage, and he uneasily concluded in his secret 
 mind — what was in reality the case — that his 
 intended coadjutor was entirely disgusted with 
 the situation in which he found himself, and 
 resolved to decline all personal furtherance of 
 the plans he had himself so elaborately ma- 
 tured. Engaged in these unpleasant cogita- 
 tions, he now followed rather than led the 
 scholar back to the Cardinal's oratory, without 
 proffering another word. 
 
 They found the prelate still seated in his rich 
 chair of state, his feet crossed with an affec- 
 tation of carelessness on a crimson velvet stool; 
 apparently engaged in the perusal of a parch- 
 ment of considerable length, engrossed in the 
 usual form of a legal document. It seemed as 
 if he was absorbed in this perusal ; but while 
 pretending to read it with so much attention, a
 
 264 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OS, 
 
 frown of peculiar sternness compressed his 
 brows ; his colour changed repeatedly, and he 
 gnawed his nether lip with something of the 
 irrepressible agitation of an offender who sus- 
 pects his secret malpractices betrayed to light. 
 On the contrary, Roodspere was extremely 
 calm, and awaited with an apparently unblench- 
 ing composure until the Cardinal should think 
 proper to acknowledge the fact of his return, 
 eyeing him without audacity or insult, but at 
 the same time with perfect firmness. Indeed 
 his feelings were rather those of compassion 
 and sorrow over a nature meant for so much 
 nobler uses, now so steeped in the mire of 
 iniquities — once that had almost seemed to 
 him of godlike qualities and supremacy ! 
 
 It was several minutes before Wolsey, af- 
 fecting to be absorbed in his perusal, could 
 sufficiently master the emotions doubtless con- 
 tending in his mind, to speak in the tone he 
 desired to assume. Pride, shame, fear, per- 
 haps some tinge of not entirely obliterated 
 tenderness, and consciousness of wrong-doing 
 and injury towards his neglected offspring — 
 were at struggle in those close lists where 
 conscience sits as supreme arbiter. Cromwel 
 had twice murmured to Roodspere, " Kneel at 
 his grace's footstool! " without producing any
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFO EMATIO N 
 
 effect, when the Cardinal at last spoke — yet 
 still without looking from his interesting docu- 
 ment. " So, master doctor ! you have made 
 good diligence in sooth ! — we hear you have 
 been for some time biding ours in the great 
 gallery? " he observed, in tones that, in spite 
 of every effort, faltered. 
 
 " Yea, my lord," replied Roodspere, in a voice 
 so calmly resolute that Wolsey involuntarily 
 started, and glanced at him with an expression 
 — yes, an expression of fear ! He even shrunk 
 somewhat back in his chair, and drew in his 
 outstretched limbs as if to be ready for flight ! 
 But after an instant's recollection, the blood 
 returned to his temples, and he observed rather 
 hurriedly and unconnectedly. " How like you 
 the pictures in my tapestries there ? Noted 
 you the one nearest my oratory here, where 
 Sir Paris and Lady Helena of Greece are sitting 
 at their love-play, while the wine-heavy hus- 
 band snores over his cups ? Madame Louisa, 
 the French king's mother, gave it me, and 
 though she swore by her troth she would not 
 have parted with it to ransom her grandson, 
 the dauphin, from Spain, yet she might not 
 rest content till I accepted it ! AVhat deem 
 you of the work ? Is it not a sight to set a 
 young clerk's thoughts a-wandering ?" And 
 VOL. I. 2 a
 
 266 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 now he looked with an agitated but keenly 
 scrutinizing gaze at Roodspere. 
 
 " It may well be, my lord, if all be true that 
 men report of the French tastes in such unfit 
 fantasies — but if so, I marked it not : my mind 
 was elsewhere, and the tapestries in your great 
 gallery may be as perplexed silkwork as the 
 worms themselves could have spun for aught 
 that I noted or remember," replied Roodspere, 
 and with perfect truth, with a steady sobriety 
 of tone which somewhat reassured his ques- 
 tioner. 
 
 "How might you pass so long time then 
 without weariness, as you must needs until — 
 until that foolish girl, schooled by the dry- 
 boned skeleton who calls herself mother of the 
 novices of Clerkenwell — or perversely mistak- 
 ing our purpose, which is most likely — how 
 passed you the tedious time, I say, until we 
 summoned you to our oratory to appease her 
 frantic outcry r" 
 
 Very luckily Cromwel hastened to reply to 
 this question, imagining only that Wolsey 
 apprehended more of his dialogue with his 
 recalcitrant penitent had been overheard than 
 he could remember with satisfaction might 
 have reached the ears of a third party. " Sir, 
 Master Roodspere was with me in the Bull's-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 267 
 
 eye, where I was labouring to save your grace 
 some trouble by expounding to him the parti- 
 culars of the service you expect from him in 
 Westminster.*' 
 
 *' Soh !" exclaimed the Cardinal, the clouds 
 somewhat dispersing on his brows. " But how 
 chanced it then that neither of ye did us any 
 reverence — not to say the knee-homage we 
 might claim as our holy father the pope's re- 
 presentative, when of late we saw our brother, 
 the Bishop of Lincoln, through the gallery ? 
 For we had but just begun our examining of 
 the conscience of that simple wench when she 
 took the like fright as if we had purposed to 
 question her on the rack !" 
 
 "My lord, as God is my witness, we saw 
 you not, nor heard you ! We saw only the 
 silver-backed dolphins of the Thames, and 
 listened only to one another's prate, until we 
 heard your grace — call for assistance !" replied 
 Cromwel wdth energy ; but scarcely himself 
 able to refrain from laughter at this conclusion. 
 
 " Go to, then, Thomas ; we are indeed too 
 much the slave of mad Hopkins's illboding 
 phantasy ! the which, young doctor, we trust 
 your services will speedily banish for ever, like 
 a scaring night dream, from our mind ! — Ap- 
 proach, for we would speak in all confidence on
 
 268 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 a prime business with you !" said Wolsey, 
 himself slightly smiling, till he marked the 
 unmoved gravity of Koodspere's countenance. 
 
 " Kneel at his grace's footstool ! " whispered 
 Cromwel for the third time — and for the third 
 time in vain. 
 
 " We would have you lose no time in its 
 despatch ! " continued Wolsey, yet evidently 
 embarrassed. " A diligent execution of the 
 behests of our sometime lord, King Henry VII., 
 was the foundation of all our own towering 
 fortunes ! We would have you to lose no time 
 lest the monks of Westminster should have 
 space given them to devise some means of op- 
 position — wherein they are very apt — though 
 we scarcely deem they will dare to fall on any 
 personal to our authority — but they have a 
 cacodsemon for a prior who can see, they say, 
 through stone walls ! " 
 
 " My lord, I have thought more ripely on my 
 unfitness since I spoke with Master Cromwel," 
 said Roodspere, with extreme coldness. "I 
 am not skilled in any rule of the cowled mad- 
 men who first penned men up in monasteries — 
 and to be set up as a scarecrow among carrion 
 birds were to me small honour — at all events a 
 preferment which I covet not in anywise ! " 
 
 " You are right were it meant as such — or
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOBMATION. 269 
 
 in any manner as matching your merits, or my 
 purposes to reward them," returned ^yolsey — 
 after a moment's pause of surprise. " You go 
 to Westminster, Master Roodspere — not to 
 restore the rule of St. Benedict among those 
 besotted monks, but to make yourself — in the 
 end — its wealthy and mighty abbot ! It has 
 always been my intent, since ever I formed my 
 resolve on the subject, to make myself abbot 
 there only as it were for awhile, in commendam 
 until such season as I could find a worthy sub- 
 stitute who would aid me in the great plan I 
 have formed to save the Church by an internal 
 renovation, beginning with the cleansing of 
 these Augean stables of the monasteries ! Why 
 else have you preached so bitterly against the 
 ignorance and lewdness of the monks in Cam- 
 bridge, if you will not aid us in the work in 
 Westminster ? And for your reward you shall 
 be made our inheritor in that lordly spirituality 
 when we are called hence to heavier labours 
 beyond sea — which our father, the Pope's cap- 
 tivity, may impose upon us ! We owe thee 
 some benevolence and promotion, we freely 
 acknowledge, Roodspere ! — and it were then 
 but to lop those flowing locks of thine, and don 
 the black robe of St. Benedict, to make thee 
 the richest and stateliest as well as learnedest 
 
 2 A 2
 
 270 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OR, - 
 
 prelate that for many a-day hath worn the 
 scapulary white ! " 
 
 " My lord, it is impossible — my policy, my 
 hopes, my resolves, tend only to the perpetual 
 destruction and extirpation of those locust 
 devastators !" returned Roodspere. 
 
 " Well, that time may come ! The wise 
 shipman will oft lighten his barque in a storm 
 by casting overboard his most precious wares 
 — whereas these monks are neither cargo nor 
 ballast," said Wolsey, with unexpected assent- 
 ingness. " But the way to Rome must be 
 paved with gold — and I go thither. Master 
 Roodspere ! Westminster is rich — and must 
 be mine ; or, if not — rather than it shall be 
 this Prior Sancgraal's, I will divide it in 
 fritterlings among Boleyns and Howards ! — I 
 spoke not lightly erewhile when I accused him 
 of having acquired an unlawful, a wizard in- 
 fluence over the mind of this foolish girl — 
 God send, its evil shadow extend to no worse 
 corruption, if worse can be !" 
 
 " No, no, no, it cannot be. Lord Cardinal ! 
 Innocence shines like sunshine on the snow, 
 all over her !" exclaimed Roodspere, with 
 vehemence. 
 
 " Why then, it will not long so last ! This 
 confessor will weary soon to be the god of the
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOE^IATION. 271 
 
 cold idolatry o£ the mind ! The mind of 
 women ! — what were it to rule in that, young 
 clerk ? He will but use the dominion he has 
 usurped there to effect a subjection more to the 
 taste — at least, of a fleshly monk ! How say you, 
 Cromwel, are we to believe at this time of the 
 world, that this railing rebel of ours is a saint, 
 because the lewd people, who ever delight in 
 such, and my enemies of the couit, applaud 
 him lustily for one ?" 
 
 ** It is for Master Roodspere to set us right 
 an he be so, my lord!" replied Cromwel, 
 demurely. " Let your grace but place our 
 young doctor in the throne of power — in the 
 confessional — and he may prosper better with 
 his reasons and arguments than your grace 
 with the seeming temptations and glorious 
 proffers which it pleased you to assail Mistress 
 Paulet withal ! — I have already told you how 
 the monks of Cambridge were driven as nigh 
 mad with them as men already out of their 
 senses can be, with aught !" 
 
 " It shall be so— it shall be ! The first act 
 of your visitation, Master Roodspere, shall be 
 to dispossess Sancgraal of his abused office of 
 confessor to the nuns of Clerkenwell, in whose 
 place we will and do solemnly install your- 
 self I" exclaimed Wolsey, with sudden anima-
 
 272 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 tion. *' Cromwel, as we think, these letters 
 mandatory need no other addition — and that 
 we will instantly, with our own hand con- 
 firm !" 
 
 The secretary immediately with great eager- 
 ness drew a table on which was an ink-standish 
 of massive silver, and pens set in a spread tail 
 of peacock's feathers, to the Cardinal, never- 
 theless watching with quiet solicitude the play 
 of Roodspere's countenance. A variety of 
 sentiments evidently struggled in it ; some 
 words of negation or of remonstrance arose 
 in faint murmurs to his lips — but then he 
 hesitated, paused, and eventually remained 
 silent, while Wolsey wrote the addition to the 
 rescript which constituted him visitor of West- 
 minster, in a large, flourishing text-hand, as if 
 rejoicing in the confusion and mortification 
 thus heaped upon his adversaries. Roodspere's 
 resolve against accepting any office in the 
 service of the Cardinal had suddenly melted 
 away ! All unconsciously to himself two passions 
 which are wontedly born twins in the human 
 heart, had sprung into existence in his o-svn ; 
 and jealousy of the inordinate ascendancy 
 assumed by Sancgraal over the youthful 
 novice, a desire to rescue her from the 
 spiritual bondage in >vhich she seemed en-
 
 THE DATS OF THE KEFORMATION. 273 
 
 thralled, had acquired as strong an influence 
 over his feelings as the wish to see her again, 
 and even to continue his protection of her 
 against the machinations of his mighty and 
 unscrupulous sire. Old cherished purposes 
 and objects resumed their interrupted sway, 
 and in brief he offered no further opposition 
 to the acceptance of the office thus urged upon 
 him. 
 
 " Here are the papers duly signed — let them 
 be put in force, Cromwel, without delay," 
 said Wolsey, tossing the parchment, graced 
 with his potent signature, to the exultant 
 secretary. "Put our will in force without 
 stint or pause ! — You shall lack no aid, master 
 Visitor, which our power, and our king's, our 
 wit, wealth, and unbounded Legacy, can bring 
 to your support ; and Westminster will be a 
 strange exception to the rule if you And not 
 matter of conviction among them, on diligent 
 perquisition ! The wzore, the merrier ! The 
 saturnalia of their great feast of St. Edward 
 are at hand ; and the queen, forsooth, makes a 
 solemn pilgrimage thither, to let all men see 
 how she takes part with them in their perver- 
 sity against us ! We will give them a rally 
 they do not expect ! You shall have the pulpit 
 on that day, and preach before her and them,
 
 274 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 and let all men know some of our verities ! You 
 stall preach, Master Roodspere, on the dis- 
 orders produced in Christianity by the false 
 teachings, inventions, and hypocritical practices 
 of the monks, which do us infinitely more harm 
 than all Martin's heresies ! Take, if thou 
 wilt, St. Paul's first to the Romans ; "for in- 
 deed the monks either do themselves, or 
 sanction in others, all the like enormities, 
 and are given over to a reprobate sense in 
 all things, even as we wrote to his Holiness, 
 with our own hand ! Yea, I doubt not we 
 shall find in them the most obstinate main- 
 tainors of the lawfulness of our king's for- 
 bidden marriage with his brother's wife !" 
 
 Cromwel started, and looked in amazement 
 at his master, making this unexpected reve- 
 lation of the momentous secret of his policy ! 
 But no less to his surprise, Roodspere accepted 
 it quite as a matter of course, and replied 
 with warmth : " The decision of that point, 
 as of all others of divine law, is to be sought 
 only in the rolls of the Scripture, not in the 
 mouths of the false interpreters thereof, my 
 lord !" 
 
 " Why then, what said John Baptist to 
 King Herod: 'It is not lawful for thee to 
 have her !' — being his brother Philip's wife !'*
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATION. 275 
 
 returned Wolsey, with sparkling eyes, and his 
 whole visage indeed alit with vindictive 
 triumph. 
 
 ** It is even so ! I do remember me of the 
 very words : — ' Ovk e^at aoi e'xeiv avTijuV" said 
 Roodspere in a tone of sudden but impassioned 
 conviction. 
 
 " But did not John Baptist lose his head, 
 for the utterance of that same oracle, master 
 clerk?" said Cromwel, now with sardonic 
 significance. " Our Herodias has a daughter, 
 too ! It is true she is no great dancer, but 
 nevertheless there may be other ways found to 
 boll off a head into a charger !" 
 
 " It is true — time is not yet ripe — I would 
 not have you incur any danger on this score. 
 Master Roodspere, till you see our whole 
 battalia on the march!" said Wolsey, in tones 
 of affectionate apprehension, yet with some- 
 thing of doubt and perplexity at his own im- 
 prudence in so perilous a revelation. 
 
 " Let us remove the foundations, the super- 
 structures will fall of their own weight ! I will 
 content me with showing that the Scriptures 
 are the only true Christian law — the canons 
 and the Pope's decretals to be listened to only 
 in so far as they coincide with the written 
 statutes there!" exclaimed Roodspere, with
 
 276 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 enthusiasm. Wolsey looked at liitn for a 
 moment with very considerable anxiety and 
 increased hesitation. *' This doctrine is good 
 so far as regards the bulls that sanctified 
 this unlawful marriage — but — " he observed, 
 with something of suspicion and withdrawal 
 in his whole manner : " But, master doctor, 
 you come from a suspected place ! It is 
 known that some spurs of Luther's cancer 
 have struck root in Cambridge and tainted 
 the sweetness of its blood ! Be not too rash : 
 the king's title of Defensor Fidei, is still fire- 
 new — he is wearing it in its newest gloss ! 
 Preach so that I may fairly take occasion 
 therefrom to recommend you for consultation 
 on the matter to his grace, in his secret 
 musings upon it, wherein of late he has 
 grown very moping and lonesome! But not 
 with an unadvised openness ! You shall mea- 
 sure your own reward — and so shall all who 
 aid me — when the field is won !" 
 
 " For my part, I would rather have Sanc- 
 graal disappointed of the sweet cake he thinks 
 he has put by in his close cupboard, than if 
 Martin Luther's neck were wrung like a 
 blanket between two washers !" said Cromwel. 
 
 " Ay, indeed !j I fear me, of a verity, Master 
 Roodspere will find this girl hath other reasons
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFORMATION. 277 
 
 than her pretended aversion to the congruous 
 matrimony I proposed her, or the pretty nick- 
 name given her by the nuns, to believe she 
 hath a call to immure herself at his evil devo- 
 tion ; in Clerkenwell !" said Wolsey. " This 
 be your primal task, fair clerk, to discover 
 how the truth stands herein ! But we warn 
 you, my lady prioress hath a hawk's eye for 
 a gosling — and her sorrow over Sir Malpas de 
 Wilton's broken neck must nigh be over and 
 done !" 
 
 " I trust, my lord, you do not fear to find 
 in me so gross a violator of my ordination 
 vows, if any danger truly were of temptation !" 
 said Roodspere, with a deep indignant blush. 
 
 " Why, no, certes no ! Rather, if it might be, 
 too stiff an observer of the same ! But Gardiner 
 warned us — I mean he told us — thou wert no 
 courtier! — Howbeit, the rust of the schools 
 will rub off after some rough encounter with 
 the bustle of the world ! And now, Cromwel, 
 go at all paces ere the air can carry tidings of 
 our purposes to the monks ! And farewell, 
 fair son ! Master secretary will give you items 
 more precise of the service I expect from you, 
 at fitting intervals — though we shall also be 
 glad of your diligent frequentation hither! 
 Meanwhile, Cromwel have a care to let this 
 
 VOL. I. 2 b
 
 278 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OB, 
 
 Sancgraal's wastrel brother, who thinks we are 
 so ignorant of our duty to the king as to send 
 him to wench and dice it in the government of 
 Calais, know that he but sends his time after 
 his money !" 
 
 Roodspere could not but feel most em- 
 phatically that he was dismissed — dismissed, 
 in spite of the gracious softening of the latter 
 expressions, in a manner that invited not to 
 much future personal intimacy. But the Car- 
 dinal also enforced his meaning by rising ; 
 an unusual honour, through which Cromwel 
 nevertheless perceived with regret that his 
 main purpose of bringing about a cordial re- 
 conciliation and conjunction between the father 
 and son was foiled. He could scarcely wonder 
 at it, considering the circumstances, and he 
 felt the necessity of suppressing his senti- 
 ments, and even of counterfeiting a joyful 
 alacrity in obedience. 
 
 " We will but pause to put Master Rood- 
 spere in fitter array, and to break his fast, an 
 it please your grace ! You see how my 
 thrifty fellow, Gardiner, kept him clad ; and, 
 I'll warrant me, he has only fed on promises 
 since he was among us here in the court." 
 
 " Nay, let him tarry his own time, and that 
 of his necessities. I do but bid Master Rood-
 
 THE DA.TS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 279 
 
 spere farewell for mine own part, remembering 
 me that I have promised the king's highness 
 to be at Hampton Court, to receive the French 
 ambassadors, if per case they should hunt that 
 way from Windsor to-night," said Wolsey, 
 with evident embarrassment. " Master Rood- 
 spere should tarry with us wholly, but that he 
 cannot exercise the needful supervision of his 
 office elsewhere than in the Abbey 1 — Gardiner 
 is to blame ! We bade him supply you with 
 all needfuls, Master Roodspere : but until 
 now noted not that the gold lacked gilding ! 
 Let him have the best of my household stuffs 
 for a raiment, Cromwel ; and now, go, fair 
 son, with my benediction!" 
 
 The Cardinal's voice trembled as he pro- 
 nounced these latter words, while slowly, and 
 with a reluctance which escaped not his keen, 
 though silent observation, Roodspere knelt 
 before the man to whom he owed existence, 
 and who now, for the second time, seemed 
 only anxious to rid himself of his presence. 
 He touched his lips in cold homage to the 
 hand extended to him with something also of 
 repulsion and unwillingness. 
 
 " Why, this is well ! You are not now so 
 subject as of yore, Raphael, to tearful fits of 
 the mother! Hysterica passio masters you
 
 280 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OB, 
 
 not now !" said Wolsey, for the first time 
 yielding to something of profound regret and 
 plaintiveness in his tones. " Well, well, it 
 must be borne — it is part belike of our fitting 
 chastisement ! We have no claim — no right 
 to a child's love and duty ! Time levels the 
 mountains ! AVhy should it not remove the 
 land-marks from men's hearts ? It is well — 
 it is as it should be ! We Levites are a tribe 
 set apart — we must not think to share the 
 common blessedness of nature in our afi'ections 
 more than vulgar men the honours due to 
 those who vanquish them ! We must not root 
 ourselves in any soil by these mighty fibres of 
 the heart, but be ever ready for transplanting 
 wherever the lord of the forest sees fit ! An 
 encampment we are, and not a city — sojourners, 
 and not dwellers, in the land ! God be with 
 you, good son ! We blame you not ; albeit, 
 having your mother's looks, we might have 
 fancied once you had her loving and forgiving 
 spirit too !" 
 
 There was a deep silence of some moments, 
 during which the Cardinal bent over the 
 kneeling figure at his feet with anxious 
 scrutiny ; during which even two or three 
 salty drops, reddening his eyes, distilled like 
 splashes of molten lead on Koodspere's face.
 
 THE DATS OF THE -REFORMATION. 281 
 
 and produced the like contortion of silent agony 
 in the muscle of his wrenched visage ; but not 
 the perhaps expected yielding ! Even Crom- 
 wel, hardened by the stormy changes of his 
 life, and the little natural sympathy he had 
 ■with the weaker emotions of humanity, felt 
 himself more moved, as he watched the scene, 
 than he could divine that Roodspere was from 
 aught in his reply. 
 
 *' I beseech your grace natheless — not to let 
 me be the cause of chasing you from your own 
 princely home, at what may not be a well- 
 assorted time ! I will rid it instantly of my evil- 
 liked presence ! This garb suits not ill with 
 mine office ; and I have oft fasted more unwil- 
 lingly than I shall to-day ere I eat the bread 
 I am to earn in the Abbey of Westminster ! " 
 
 " You reproach us with what we have 
 learned was rather your own churlish disdain 
 and pride than any fault of ours. — Climbing our 
 giddy heights, how might we look down whence 
 we arose, without fear of slipping our hold, or 
 dizzying us with the depth ? But you disdained 
 us, Raphael, and your gentle mother's wailing 
 belief in us, alike!" said the Cardinal, rising 
 with sudden asperity and haughtiness from his 
 solicitous attitude. " Nicholas Hopkins knew 
 nothing of the infinite ignominy and shame 
 
 2 B 2
 
 282 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 that awaited us almost as soon as we had kissed 
 thee for the first time, sleeping rosily on thy 
 mother's heart — yet drawing thine horoscope, 
 he warned us that thine encounter, wherever 
 we met, should not be simply harmful and 
 dangerous to us — hnt fatal to our dearest hopes 
 and purposes ! Therefore have we the less 
 reason to proffer than thou to refuse our kindly 
 invitations ! But therein follow your own 
 pleasure, which belike may also be the prompt- 
 ings of my better angel — that glorious one 
 who, for the universal preservation of the 
 Church, would conduct me to its paramounce 
 and sovereignty !" 
 
 "Master Cromwel, I am ready!" said 
 Roodspere. 
 
 " Nay, nay, we will not run the palace like 
 scalded dogs ! — Master Roodspere, methinks 
 you should have some sense of his grace's con- 
 descending, if but — Who is there?" exclaimed 
 Cromwel, breaking off as a tap at the oratory 
 door, gentle as the stroke of a wolf's paw — 
 very different from Roodspere's style of 
 requesting the privilege of the enti^ee — was 
 audible. 
 
 " Who dares intrude hither without due 
 heralding? Is our palace become a wayside 
 inn ?" said Wolsey with angry vehemence.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOKMATION. 283 
 
 " It is I, my blessed lord, it is I — with Roman 
 mud still on my boots ! — bringing most joyful 
 news, whereof none should have the start of 
 me in the delivery ! " replied a voice, whose 
 naturally morose and stern tones were softened 
 to a cajoling whine. Cromwel himself lost 
 colour as he exclaimed, " Matthew, Mark, 
 Luke, and John! — bless this bed that I lie 
 on ! — here's the devil to pay, and Stephen 
 Gardiner come for the money !"
 
 284 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ANCIENT WESTMINSTEK. 
 
 Look ■with a curious eye all Europe round, 
 And show one rich, one healthy spot of ground, 
 But there some Abbey is, or else hath been, 
 And ev'n in ruins their wise choice is seen. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 Few districts of the metropolis which has 
 since so worthily achieved the title of the Baby- 
 lon of Bricks, have more materially changed 
 in aspect from the days of our sometime truly 
 dread sovereign lord, King Henry VIII. , than 
 the one taking its designation from the great 
 ecclesiastical structure immemoriaUy known as 
 Westminster. In the years of the dawning 
 Reformation, what is now the site of a vast 
 and ever-enlarging city, was a district of 
 woodland and meadow, cornfields, orchards, 
 gardens, and other rural dependencies of the 
 wealthy Abbey of St. Peter. A thinly scat- 
 tered agricultural vassalage, dwelling in remote 
 hamlets and farmsteads, was distributed over
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 285 
 
 the space where an immense population, closely 
 agglomerated, now present every variety of 
 human condition, from imperial state to abject 
 beggary and want ! Of the palatial monastery 
 which gave its name to so extensive a terri- 
 tory, only the dilapidated but still magnificent 
 church, and a few other isolated vestiges remain. 
 At the period we allude to, it was an estab- 
 lishment on the grandest scale which all 
 England — the paradise of monachism — could 
 boast. The Abbey, properly so called, was a 
 great congeries of buildings, adhering to the 
 church which popularly enjoys the title in 
 our day, on the south ; and covered what is 
 now a wilderness of mean and dilapidated 
 streets with the stately gothic dwellings, out- 
 houses, and cultivated enclosures necessary for 
 the comfortable accommodation and enjoyment 
 of the numerous community of the Benedictines 
 of Westminster. 
 
 The entire district still bearing the name 
 — with the exception of what, in comparison, 
 was a very insignificant portion allotted 
 to the use of the English kings, whose an- 
 cient palace occupied nearly the same ground 
 as the modern one, appropriated to another 
 sovereignty — all Westminster was the patri- 
 mony of the Abbey of St. Peter. This desig-
 
 286 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 nation had far outgrown the modest limits to 
 which it was originally confined — that " Thorny 
 Isle" where tradition boldly asserted St. Peter 
 had founded an oratory, in the midst of a 
 marshy wild, worthy of the name, but which he 
 had thus marked out as a spot whose dedica- 
 tion he could accept with pleasure — graced 
 indeed with consolatory associations to the 
 disciple of Him who had worn the crown of 
 the Cross ! But the territories of the Abbey 
 extended in every direction far beyond even 
 the vast area that in modern times is known 
 by its name. Its possessions extended along 
 the river, with the slight interruption of the 
 royal residence, from Chelsea to Whitehall ; 
 and thence, in a scarcely broken sweep, as far 
 as Bayswater and Kensington on the west, and 
 Oxford-street on the north, including what are 
 now the populous parishes of St. James, St. 
 George, St. Paul, and St. Anne ; the entire 
 district of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, and all 
 that extensive tract, now covered with a city 
 of palaces, which then only formed part of the 
 great manor of Hyde, belonging to the monks 
 of Westminster. Indeed, it was scarcely pos- 
 sible for an Abbot of that community to get 
 fairly out of his own territories, proceed in 
 what direction he might, within any comfort-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMA-TION. 287 
 
 able excursion from the centre of his posses- 
 sions. Northward and north-westward the 
 extensive domains of Hampstead and Hendon 
 owned him sole lord ; Paddington was his ; 
 Kilburn and Clerkenwell were nunneries of the 
 foundation of his Abbey, and acknowledged 
 his feudal supremacy. Beyond the gates of 
 Temple Bar, in the east, in the very heart 
 of the city, he possessed numerous advow- 
 sons, and other ecclesiastical dependencies. 
 St. Martin's-le-Grand, the parish of the un- 
 fortunate Marchant Hunne ; St. Bride's, in 
 Fleet-street, and other scattered properties, 
 gave him a secure footing in London. To the 
 south, the entire district, from St. James's- 
 Park, over what were then the unenclosed and 
 marshy wastes of Tothill-Fields, which yet fur- 
 nished abundant food for the great flocks of 
 the Abbey that almost exclusively supplied the 
 woolstaple established in its vicinity, acknow- 
 ledged the exclusive sway of the crosier of 
 Westminster. 
 
 This great space, now covered with swarming 
 multitudes, was, as we have previously ob- 
 served, almost entirely a tract of champaign and 
 woodland, tenanted by an agricultural popula- 
 tion in widely apart localities. The only 
 counterpart to the modern city that could be
 
 288 -WESTMINSTEK ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 said to exist was contained in the walled 
 enclosure denominated the Sanctuary of West- 
 minster, in nigh propinquity to the Abbey; 
 which, though not even acknowledged as a 
 township, had risen, unacknowledged, into one 
 of very considerable and dangerous importance. 
 It was a confined and gloomy aggregate of 
 buildings, surrounded by strong and lofty 
 walls, which could only be entered under the 
 portcullis of the Gatehouse prison, and by per- 
 mission of the abbatial authorities. A city of 
 refuge for the crimes and misery of the age, 
 from the draconic fury of laws whose blood- 
 thirsty severity has only been moderated in 
 our days— but also a haunt and school for 
 every species of demoralisation and villany. 
 This Rome-like nucleus of a city, was only 
 separated by a narrow road from the royal 
 palace of Westminster, and by the churchyard 
 of the Abbey, from its ecclesiastical lords and 
 protectors. The victory of the church over the 
 laity in the middle ages could scarcely have been 
 more emphatically asserted than by this close 
 neighbourhood of the supreme executive power 
 of the laws with a fortress of her raising which 
 secured impunity to their most flagrant viola- 
 tors ! But guarded by the curse of St. Edward, 
 the Sanctuary of Westminster had for ages
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOKMATION. 289 
 
 furnished an asylum indifferently to misfortune 
 and to guilt, which the mightiest princes and 
 the bloodiest tyrants alike had feared to violate. 
 Richard III., himself, had not dared to drag 
 his young victims by open force from its shel- 
 tering walls — and the Avenger of Blood still 
 sheathed his sword powerlessly at its gates. 
 
 This township and the royal palace were the 
 onlynumerous collections of habitable dwellings 
 throughout all Westminster and its far- stretch- 
 ing liberties. Charing Cross was a village ; 
 St. Giles was a village ; Paddington was a 
 scarcely known hamlet, whose revenues an 
 Abbot of Westminster had thought no more 
 than sufficient to supply an annual festal com- 
 memoration of his death, for the good of his 
 soul, by the poor. Covent Garden then grew 
 what it now only markets — indeed, the whole 
 district of St. Paul's-west had a reasonable 
 claim to the designation, since it was almost 
 entirely devoted to the purposes of an immense 
 market-garden, whence the monks of West- 
 minster derived a great revenue from the 
 cultivation and sale of fruits and vegetables 
 to the neighbouring city. The royal palace 
 was, however, of very great extent, as was 
 necessary to accommodate the courts of the 
 feudal kings whose armies were their house- 
 
 TOL. I. 2 c
 
 290 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 holds. But as it confined itself chiefly to 
 rambling along the shore of the river, it did 
 not seriously straiten the monks of West- 
 minster in any of their enjoyments or privi- 
 leges ; and on the whole the Palace and the 
 Abbey had for ages been better neighbours 
 than the two political powers they might be 
 said to personify, on the wider elbow-room of 
 the world. This result was perhaps to be 
 imputed in no slight degree to the fact that the 
 civil as well as ecclesiastical government of 
 Westminster, with the exception only of the 
 royal purlieus, was exclusively in the hands of 
 its ecclesiastical lords. King St. Edward, 
 preferring the claims of his saintship to those 
 of his kingship, had so willed it when he 
 granted his new foundation the civil juris- 
 diction of their endowments to the fullest 
 extent, even to the power of inflicting capital 
 punishment. In spiritual matters, the monks 
 of Westminster claimed exemption from any 
 jurisdiction but that of the Holy See, whose 
 policy it had always been to attach the 
 monastic orders directly to its dominion, to 
 counterbalance the mutinous and independent 
 spirit of the secular clergy. The marshals of 
 the royal household had never been able to 
 extend their jurisdiction beyond the imme-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFORMATION. 291 
 
 diate precincts of the sovereign's abode ; 
 and throughout the entire district, Whitehall 
 alone had managed to withdraw its neck from 
 the yoke of the Abbey. The ecclesiastical 
 princes who had there succeeded to a lay fief 
 without the proper lay deference for a clerical 
 authority inferior to their own, refused to 
 admit the abbatial supremacy ; and espe- 
 cially while the archbishopric of York was 
 held by so haughty and puissant a prelate as 
 Cardinal Wolsey, it was found necessary to let 
 the claim fall into abeyance. The wild wis- 
 dom of the Welsh proverb, that all a wolf 
 gets from a wolf is a torn skin — though not in 
 that precise formula — had doubtless its influ- 
 ence in deterring the abbey from any vigorous 
 prosecution of its rights during the time he 
 held the see. 
 
 From this latter stiflf-necked territory, on 
 the eve of a fine autumn day, Raphael Rood- 
 spere and Master Secretary Cromwel took their 
 unwelcome way to Westminster Abbey. A 
 causeway so little used that it was grown with 
 grass, and so rutted and uneven that it seemed 
 as if only horsemen or pedestrians could make 
 any use of it, led through open fields from 
 York Place thither. The road was, in fact, 
 used in few other means of locomotion, and
 
 292 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 even by horsemen and pedestrians but rarely, 
 the Thames, hke the liquid pavements of 
 Venice, forming the great highway of the city, 
 then chiefly built upon its banks. On one 
 side of the way was an open expanse of fields 
 and woody lands, since converted into St. 
 James's and the Green Park — in the former of 
 which was situated a hospital for leprous 
 women — a disease that had continued to afflict 
 the blood of the west from the time of the 
 Crusades. On the other, the broad gleam of 
 the Thames bounded a marshy tract that bor- 
 dered it — slumbering like an infant hero in 
 the cradle, unconscious of the glories in store 
 for it— scarcely traversed by any vessels of 
 more consequence than the boats and barges 
 of the London citizens, or the light skiffs of 
 fishermen, who still found salmon and trout in 
 its untroubled waves. But soon the way nar- 
 rowed, and became enclosed between the 
 masses of the royal palace and the haggard 
 houses of the Sanctuary, which seemed tum- 
 bling like drunkards in one another's arms 
 over the high dead wall that girded in its 
 ruffianly population. 
 
 The ancient Palace of Westminster by no 
 means boasted the magnificence of florid 
 uniformity which its modern successor offers
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 293 
 
 to the gaze. It presented specimens of almost 
 every species of architecture that had flourished 
 in England, from the time when the Confessor 
 first made it the abode of sovereignty. The 
 gray Saxon keep, from whose windows the 
 sainted king witnessed the progress of his 
 architectural vow, in the erection of the Abbey 
 of Westminster, still stood like a shrouded 
 ghost in the midst of an unlicensed revelry, 
 surrounded by a wilderness of structures in 
 the various Anglo-Gothic styles succeeding his 
 era. From the buildings on the north of the 
 royal precincts known as the New Palace, to 
 those on the south, designated the Old Palace, 
 five centuries had exhibited the varieties of 
 their tastes and requirements, in a strange, but 
 imposing and majestic medley. The graceful 
 pinnacles of St. Stephen's, and the massive 
 masonry of Westminster Hall, marked almost 
 the perfection and the commencement of 
 Gothic architecture, from the moment when it 
 first ventured to elongate the solemn Roman 
 semicircular arch, until, like the expanding 
 stalk of a flower, it flew up into the aerial lines 
 of the pointed style, and covered itself with 
 exquisite decoration. Walls, strengthened by 
 bastions and massive gateway towers, defended 
 the palace even on the peaceful side of the 
 
 2 c 2
 
 294 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 Abbey. A winding reach of the Thames, 
 called Long Ditch, partially encircled it with 
 a moat, and the broad river behind rendered 
 the palace the secure fortress, as well as 
 stately abode of royalty. It extended along 
 the Thames from the present locality of the 
 dismal Penitentiary at Milbank, to West- 
 minster Bridge — which then was not, and 
 threatens soon not to be again. 
 
 Cromwel scarcely took the trouble of point- 
 ing out this royal residence to the Cambridge 
 scholar's notice. He was altogether absorbed 
 in its haggard competitor, the Sanctuary, and 
 in railing at the monks for the use they made 
 of the pernicious privileges accorded to them 
 in its limits. According to him, there was no 
 crime so black — no criminal so detestable — 
 which or whom they considered unworthy of 
 their countenance and protection, provided 
 they were allowed a suitable share in the fruits 
 of the offence. Thieves, murderers, forgers, 
 traitors, and miscreants of every hue, shared 
 impunity, and projected new ravages within 
 their walls, on these terms ; fraudulent debtors 
 defied their creditors under their patronage, 
 and lived luxuriously on the plunder thus 
 secured. Meanwhile, according to Cromwel, 
 the church partook the guilt with the proceeds
 
 THE DATS OP THE EEEOEMATION. 295 
 
 of crime, in the shape of entrance-fees and 
 contributions exacted from all the residents 
 of the Sanctuary. 
 
 Inveighing thus, Cromwel led his com- 
 panion past the Sanctuary wall, until they 
 arrived opposite a massive tower admitting 
 into the court-yard of the Old Palace. Here 
 was an entrance into the churchyard before 
 the Abbey — already a place of tombs, and 
 paved with memorials of the ancient dead, 
 but shaded by trees, whose lofty branches 
 almost rivalled the height of the majestic 
 structure itself, and perhaps its antiquity. A 
 swing-gate, in a porch near which, in a species 
 of watch-box, sate a monk, whose office it 
 was to question and carefully observe all who 
 entered, but who was fast asleep, admitted 
 into the precincts. Winking humorously at 
 this drowsy Cerberus — Cromwel led the way 
 into the enclosure, and Roodspere started to 
 find himself once more in the presence of the 
 august pile whose associations had haunted 
 him so drearily during so many years ! 
 
 How different is the Westminster Abbey 
 of our days from that on which Raphael Rood- 
 spere gazed at this momentous period of the 
 sixteenth century, when, like one com- 
 missioned to slay a king, he beheld it rise
 
 296 WESTMINSTER ABBEY J OR, 
 
 before him in all the majesty of its imperial 
 robes and diadem, as if to receive the blow 
 with dignity ! It was drawing towards sunset, 
 and the golden light of the westering orb 
 touched the fretted pinnacles of the church 
 with the glow of the gorgeous emblem of 
 sovereignty, while it cast the purple shadows 
 of the buttresses into masses of relief, re- 
 sembling rich folds of a royal robe falling 
 around some Titan monarch's towering form ! 
 Westminster Abbey was at this period in 
 the palmiest day of its glory ; but like the 
 Gothic faith of which it was the expression, 
 on the verge of a decay that was finally to 
 leave little more than a vast and crumbling 
 ruin, incongruously patched and renovated — 
 to make the legends of its grandeur sound 
 fabulously in the ears of future generations ! 
 It needed the loving vigilance of men who 
 like the monks, associated their existence and 
 habitual thought with those beautiful and 
 highly-wrought monuments of human labour 
 and ingenuity — whose very ruins are still the 
 proudest boast of our architecture — to preserve 
 them from the destructive agencies which have 
 left us little more than the gaunt outlines of 
 the ecclesiastical art of our ancestors. What 
 is in reality, though apparently only the exter-
 
 THE DAYS or THE EEFOEMATION. 297 
 
 nal embellishment, the essential life and 
 poetry of Gothic architecture — that profuse 
 splendour of decoration which forced the rude 
 materials of stone and wood to burst as it 
 were into aflowering of ornament — has departed 
 with the spirit of impassioned material devo- 
 tion that devised it as its expression ! Departed, 
 like the fantastic fictions of the frost from the 
 panes in a thaw, from the walls and bare 
 pinnacles of Westminster Abbey ! In our 
 days the spectator gazes on vast but bald 
 masses denuded of almost all those rich and 
 characteristic embellishments which the Gothic 
 architect was wont to throw, like a glittering 
 woof of silver lace over a beautiful woman, 
 heightening the efifect of. the charms it seems 
 to cover. Time, or the more impoverishing 
 hand of the restorer, has stripped off so much 
 of that transparent woof of arabesque — that 
 embroidery wrought by the chisel — that 
 brocade in stone, that the antiquary himself, 
 even if assisted by a goodly modicum of the 
 very necessary quality in his pursuits of im- 
 agination, can scarcely conjure up a vision 
 of the spectacle that Kaphael Roodspere gazed 
 upon with his bodily eyes in the autumn of 
 1527. 
 He stood directly facing the great northern
 
 298 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR 
 
 entrance of the cliurcli, which then well 
 deserved its title of the Beautiful, or Solomon's 
 Gate. Elaborate carvings of the saints and 
 apostles, wrought delicately as if in fine 
 ivory, decorated the now mouldering and 
 unornamented porch. The crumbling gallery 
 over it was then what the architect intended 
 it should be — a rich fringe to the embroidered 
 stonework above, and an elevated stage for 
 the display of the most striking and magni- 
 ficent ceremonials of a church delighting in 
 such. Thence the abbots of Westminster 
 on all solemn festivals bestowed their bene- 
 diction on the kneeling throngs of the devotees 
 of St. Edward — and there they presented them- 
 selves after an election to receive the homage 
 of their vassals and dependents. In the now 
 empty niches above the gallery, and skirting 
 the whole extent of the pile, stood the 
 statues of the sainted founders of the Abbey, 
 or of the innumerable kings — its protectors 
 and embellishers, crowned and wreathed, 
 sceptred and crosiered, a worthy guard to 
 the illustrious structure they had reared 
 through ages of perseverance and toil. The 
 fretted pinnacles of the screen, airy and light 
 as if raised like the walls of Thebes, by a magic 
 melody, concealed the vast roof of the church,
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 299 
 
 and the absence of the great tower and spire 
 which its founders purposed should crown and 
 overlook the whole. This grand completion 
 of the work had not yet been attained, but 
 the stately ideal had continued to animate and 
 direct for ages the labours of the monkish 
 proprietors of Westminster. It was the 
 favourite object, the master-passion, of the 
 long life of Abbot Islip ; and but for the sudden 
 destruction at hand, it would probably have 
 been achieved, and a centre-piece of suitable 
 grandeur would have balanced the prodigious 
 but now apparently scarcely connected masses 
 of the Abbey. The Reformation owes some 
 great reparation to Westminster Abbey, which 
 suffered much from the blind fury of her youth 
 — and its completion thus would be a noble one ! 
 The unfinished state of the structure is indeed 
 an eloquent reproach to a nation which ex- 
 pended on an evanescent palace of glass, far 
 more than would suffice to restore one of the 
 most illustrious of our ancestral monuments 
 to more than primeval magnificence ! 
 
 In Roodspere's day, the line of flying but- 
 tresses that prop the walls of the principal 
 masses of the church with their giant 
 shoulders, were not reduced to a plain and 
 quakerly simplicity, agreeing well enough
 
 300 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 with their present drab-coloured facings, but 
 not at all with the exterior <)f a Gothic 
 cathedral. They were crowned with turrets, 
 fretted and shaped so as amply to vindicate 
 the claims of Westminster to the dignity of a 
 mitred abbey. The two great western towers 
 had not yet been raised above the height of 
 the middle mass, and consequently, though 
 the projected sublime tower of the centre was 
 not in existence, the balance of the building 
 was not yet painfully affected to the eye. Sir 
 Christopher Wren, who carried them up to 
 their present altitude, thus made the ex- 
 tremities of the abbey church its loftiest 
 parts — the feet higher than the head ! But 
 he, too, beheld in his mind's eye the superior 
 elevation of the central tower, whose fallacious 
 vision has haunted the projects of the archi- 
 tects of Westminster so vainly from its founda- 
 tion. It cannot be said that, with all his 
 taste and genius. Wren has been successful 
 even in the effect of his completions of the 
 twin western towers. The great classical 
 architect made his restorations in the style, 
 but not in the spirit, of the architecture whose 
 intentions were to be carried out. The grand 
 characteristics of the pointed Gothic — its light, 
 pyramidal, flame-like aspiration to the skies — 
 
 J
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 301 
 
 is lost in those heavy square belfries, too large 
 for their bases, which clump the summits of 
 the western towers ; and the clocks that stare 
 from them with the incongruous effect of 
 sun-flowers in a yew-tree, tell that the hour 
 of Gothic architecture was indeed sounded 
 when they were placed on their impudent 
 elevation ! A vast sun-dial, inlaid with brazen 
 figures of the Apostles, before the north gate, 
 supplied the office of those uncongenial chro- 
 nometers — at least according to the beautiful 
 motto which it were as well perhaps if its 
 spirit were more extensively imbued in modern 
 time-calculations : — " Horas non nvmero nisi 
 Serenas /" 
 
 But in Roodspere's age, as in our own, the 
 eye was speedily captivated by the elaborate 
 beauty of the opposite extremity of the 
 masses of the church, formed by the chapel of 
 Henry VII. That " wonder of the world," 
 as Leland so fondly calls it, had only been 
 finished about a quarter of a century, and was 
 in all the glow of its novel splendours. The 
 action of the atmosphere had as yet only 
 diffused a tint of bright amber on the stone 
 which, conjoined with the profusion of gilding, 
 and the minute richness of the ornaments, 
 gave the whole building the appearance of 
 
 VOL. I. 2d
 
 302 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 one wrought in massive gold, and chased by 
 the skill of an artificer in the precious metal. 
 
 Skirting the little chapel or church of St. 
 Margaret, which then as now stood before the 
 Abbey like a pert dwarf comparing altitudes 
 with a giant, Roodspere continued for awhile 
 to gaze with emotion at the noble structure 
 before him. He could not behold it with 
 the indifference of our modern eyes — under 
 that full but cold light of reason which has 
 disenchanted the past superstitions of mankind 
 of all their miraculous halo ! Roodspere was 
 a reformer, imbued with all the reasoning 
 convictions which made him regard as rank 
 idolatry the deification of man and death that 
 had raised the mighty temple before him. 
 But still he could not entirely divest him- 
 self of what was still as it were the very 
 atmosphere of his times — and Westminster 
 Abbey was yet awful in its associations with 
 the most fondly cherished popular beliefs — 
 with the most striking and affecting of the 
 legends of mediaeval mythology ! Founded 
 nearly a thousand years, even in the reign of 
 him who was destined to overthrow the faith 
 that reared it from a hermit's cell in a swamp 
 of the Thames, to its then pomp and grandeur, 
 it was the tabernacle of a royal saint whose
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATION. 303 
 
 dust was still supposed to work visible miracles 
 — wlio alone in all England — in all Christendom 
 — rivalled the fame of the champion-martyr of 
 the church, St. Thomas a'Becket. Relics still 
 held most holy in the credulous imagination 
 of the people, decked all its numerous shrines. 
 It possessed a vial containing some drops of 
 the precious blood which, trickling on the 
 cross, redeemed the sins of all mankind ! The 
 Prince of the Apostles himself was said to 
 have consecrated it, attended by a choir of 
 angels, with tapers and incense brought from 
 on high. St. John the Evangelist was believed 
 to have trodden its aisles once in the course 
 of that long pilgrimage that tradition averred 
 he was to keep on the earth till the second 
 coming. The glories of history and of the 
 monarchy were almost equally associated 
 with those of the popular faith. Within 
 the hallowed precincts of Westminster Abbey 
 almost all the kings of England, from the 
 Confessor and the Conqueror, had attained 
 the height of human glory in their crowns, or 
 had sunk to the universal level in their graves ! 
 Its very dust was purple with the ashes of 
 kings; great nobles and high-born dames, 
 heroes, sages, legislators, only were permitted 
 to crumble beneath its consecrated stones
 
 304 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY; OR, 
 
 besides ! There was scarcely a memorable 
 fact, or a mighty actor, in the great drama of 
 English history, but was in some manner or 
 another connected with this gorgeous monument 
 — the coronation-hall and mausoleum of four 
 mighty dynasties that had filled the world with 
 their fame— and now the aisles of Westmin- 
 ster with an eternal silence ! 
 
 To complete the spell it chanced that it was 
 about the conclusion of the service with which 
 the Roman Church marks the conclusion of 
 the religious day ; and the full swelling pomp of 
 the choir rolled in billows of harmony through 
 all the aisles, and through the open portals 
 of Solomon's Porch, to Roodspere's hearing. 
 Never before had he listened to music so 
 august — so perfect in its rhythm and modula- 
 tion — so magnificently melodious and one in 
 its massive movements — so richly decorated 
 by the filagree harmony of a single voice, 
 which throughout the stately divisions of the 
 anthem continued to pour over it streams of 
 variegated sweetness like the showery spray 
 of a fountain falling into its deep basin — ^like 
 the notes of a sky-lark over the full woodland 
 choir of the vallies below.! The voice was 
 of the most incomparable luscious quality, 
 profuse in every imaginable trill and gush of
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 305 
 
 the very soul of melody — in itself singly, as it 
 seemed, endowed with all the infinitely-inter- 
 mingled sweetness and languishment of a 
 thousand nightingales ! One of those rare 
 voices which at once enchant the ear and en- 
 thral the heart — a voice which realised the 
 fable of the syrens, that if not heard would 
 scarcely have seemed possible to be of earthly 
 heritage ! Was it indeed the voice of a fallen 
 chorister of heaven — of some sweet singer 
 before the Lord, exiled for disobedience awhile 
 on the earth ? Or was it, as Roodspere was 
 too rationally compelled to conjecture, that of 
 some Italian master of melody brought home 
 by the travelled prior to heighten the effects in 
 which he delighted, or to train his barbarous 
 choir in the wonders of that new art of music 
 whose prodigies were scarcely as yet known 
 save by report to the inharmonious nations of 
 the north ? 
 
 As it was now darkening into the early twi- 
 light of autumn, Roodspere's gaze within the 
 interior of the church — and from the spot 
 where he stood the immense transverse of the 
 cross was distinguishable — nevertheless only 
 presented him with a confused vision of kneel- 
 ing devotees, half lost in the shadows of the 
 prodigious vaults and innumerable pillars of 
 
 2 D 2
 
 306 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 the church, or mellowed into the sombre pomp 
 of a rich sunset in the many-coloured glow of 
 the painted windows. He could, therefore, 
 discover but little to satisfy his curiosity on 
 the subject of the owner of that marvellous 
 voice — and Cromwel left him but a brief while 
 to indulge in cogitations on the subject. Far 
 from sharing in his emotion, the secretary 
 abruptly called away his companion's attention 
 to an entirely different spectacle, which had 
 occupied his own all along. On the opposite 
 side of the cemetery, immediately before the 
 heavy and lugubrious-looking tower of the 
 Gatehouse, a group was assembled engaged in 
 a recreation which it needed but little 
 familiarity with such sports to discern was that 
 of cockfighting. An elephantine monk, of 
 extraordinary bulk and stature, was kneeling 
 in the midst of a ring formed by a very mis- 
 cellaneous rabble, fastening the spurs on a 
 large black cock ; while, at a little distance, a 
 small, keenly-visaged man was as actively en- 
 gaged, with the assistance of divers volunteers, 
 in caparisoning a red cock, of similarly dimi- 
 nished size as himself, for battle with the 
 monk's huge fowl. A strapping virago of a 
 woman, with arms akimbo, and a sour, con- 
 temptuous look, watched the progress of
 
 THE DATS or THE KEFORMATION. 307 
 
 events from the postern of the Gatehouse tower, 
 with a bunch of large keys at her girdle, that 
 seemed almost to announce her as some sort of 
 jaileress'depute. 
 
 " Yonder is Dan Gildas, the jolly cellarer of 
 Westminster, surnamed among the husbands 
 of the vassalage, the abbey cuckoo ! — ^And the 
 little man there is the jailer of the Gatehouse, 
 who was accused with Treasurer Gislebert of 
 the murder of Hunne ! — Let us give them the 
 first startle of our news," said Cromwel, who 
 seemed to rejoice exceedingly in the prospect 
 of the consternation of the monks. Rood- 
 spere complied, and together they approached 
 the circle formed around the cockfighters who, 
 they found, had chosen the Place of the Ordeal 
 for the scene of their mock conflict — the very 
 spot upon which Marchant Hunne' s body had 
 been calcined into dust ! But by the time 
 they arrived, some kind of dispute had arisen 
 among the human bipeds of almost as vehe- 
 ment a nature as that which they intended to 
 provoke between their warlike birds. 
 
 " Thou pestilent Lollard ! thou WiclifFe's 
 Wicket, thou ! — what advantage have I taken 
 of thee to give my cock a quaff of good ale 
 before he encounters with thy wretched 
 kestrel ? " the indignant monk was observing
 
 308 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 in irritated tones. " Thou liest, I say, to 
 feign I use art magic in the matter — or that 
 my lord the prior taught me how to make my 
 viper jellies that I give him, out of the magic 
 books of the Jews ! St. Dominic hath only 
 his good courage and the abbey's good ale to 
 make him so ready — and thou liest like a pagan 
 and no true cockmaster to say otherwise !" 
 
 " Cry you patience, my lord cellarer ! I did 
 but jest — but I am no more a heretic than thou 
 art a true priest ! " returned the little man. 
 " My little cock, Dr. Martin, fears not thy 
 bullying St. Dominic, magic or none ! but to 
 give him the vantage of the spurs, I see no 
 reason — and we will not fight unless we have 
 a fair field and no favour ! " 
 
 " Thou art a heretic, 'tis certain ! How oft 
 has thy poor woman confessed to me that thou 
 eatest eggs on a Friday, sucking them raw 
 like a weasel rather than not break the 
 church's fasts ! " returned the monk, indig- 
 nantly smoothening his robe on a portion of his 
 person evidently not dedicated to temperance, 
 which swelled like a bellying mainsail beneath 
 his girdle. 
 
 " Yea, sir, I do say so, and will maintain it ! 
 I would my lord prior might lend ear to all 
 that I could tell him ! — for he says that Hunne
 
 THE DAYS OF THE UEFOBMATION. 309 
 
 was a good, religious man, and never came 
 fairly by his end ! By our blessed Lady ! I 
 could keep the jail much better without the 
 little fulsome otter to drink all our fees at St. 
 Julian's ! " said the tall virago, in the shrill 
 and screeching voice of an habitual scold, 
 from the arched postern of the Gatehouse. 
 
 " Marry, and he should know for he was 
 jailer then — was Master Joakin Mug wort ! — 
 which was before he wedded Long Meg of 
 Westminster, to help him to keep ghosts away, 
 affrighted with the clamour of her tongue ! " 
 whispered Cromwel to Roodspere. *' Let us 
 draw nigh, and hear what follows." 
 
 " Peace, peace, goodwife ! Have a care ! — 
 thou mayst do more mischief to thy spouse 
 than thou wottest of ! At best Father Gisle- 
 bert's temper is not of distilled honey ; but the 
 mention of Hunne's name drives him ever on 
 the farther side of his wit," said the monk, 
 very gravely. 
 
 *' I would he heard me then, my lord Dan 
 Gildas ! The little rogue here will oft main- 
 tain, when he is drunk — which he is seven 
 days in the week, and Sundays to boot ! — that 
 the blood gushed out of old Dickon's nostrils 
 as oft as my lord treasurer came nigh him ! " 
 returned the virago.
 
 310 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY; OK, 
 
 " Why, so it did — and so belike it would 
 have done, had he not been there ! I saw what 
 I saw ! — and do oft see what I see besides ! '* 
 returned the little jailer undauntedly. 
 
 " The devil carry thee, say I ! — Didst thou 
 not say thou sawest my lord the cellarer hug- 
 ging me on Assumption night behind the great 
 yewtree?" screeched the fond wife. 
 
 " If the devil hears any woman at prayers in 
 all England, wife, he will hear thee ! " returned 
 Mug wort — " and let him carry me where he 
 will, he cannot carry me to worse company 
 than thine !" 
 
 " Hear to him, master cellarer ! — How 
 long will you suffer the little villain to blas- 
 pheme me thus ?" shouted Long Meg, at the 
 pitch of her discordant voice. 
 
 " Why, dame, you are to blame ! — What 
 can I do ? — Joakin, you are also to blame to 
 anger your poor wife thus ! — What cause hath 
 she ever given thee for jealousy that thou 
 ratest her thus before folk?" said the monk, 
 evidently perplexed. 
 
 " Abundant cause ! — as wide in the girth. 
 Friar Gildas, as thine own goodly self! — But 
 let her rave : my lord the prior will not see 
 me unjustly entreated to pleasure any of you ! 
 Himself hath so promised me, and he knows
 
 THE DAYS OF THE IIEFOEMA.TION. 311 
 
 what manner of ill-will ye bear me!" said 
 Mugwort, significantly. " But briefly — shall 
 thy cock fight mine on the wager, or shall 
 Smiling "Willie take him home to roost in 
 whole feathers ; for methinks it is bedtime 
 with him now ?" 
 
 A gaunt figure of a man, with bolt upright 
 red hair, and an idiotic grin on the muscles of 
 his visage, which had procured him his nick- 
 name, stretched a pair of extraordinarily long 
 hands, as if to obey his master's behest, and 
 remove Dr. Martin from the appointed lists. 
 But a general murmur of deprecation at the 
 threatened interruption of the sport arose from 
 the surrounding rabble. 
 
 " Peace, peace, my children ! — St. Dominic 
 is no recreant to fly the field," said the cel- 
 larer, benignantly. *' Let them fight without 
 spurs since thou challengest mine for too long ! 
 Clear the lists, fair sirs, and let the good 
 knights do ! " 
 
 *' So say I, brother Gildas!" muttered 
 Cromwel ; " Roodspere, speak to the fat old 
 rogue — I am too well known among them — 
 and ask whether the Lord Abbot is in his 
 house or no." 
 
 Roodspere complied, addressing the cellarer 
 by the usual courteous designation of father,
 
 312 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 and Dan Gildas turned his large sensual visage, 
 shining all over with the oil of plenty, with a 
 humorous cock of the eye upon the querent. 
 '* Ah, benedicite ! — why dost thou call me 
 father ? — I mind not that thy mother was ever 
 a vassal of Westminster ! " he replied, sticking 
 his tongue in his cheek in a manner that pro- 
 voked an universal peal of laughter. 
 
 "Cuckoos lay their eggs in other birds' 
 nests !" observed the little jailer, and the 
 laugh was renewed. 
 
 " What, indeed, should one expect from 
 a monk but indecent ribaldry and insult:'" 
 said Roodspere, turning away in disgust. 
 
 " Marry, and who art thou ?" retorted the 
 cellarer. " Some starved priest secular, 
 famishing with his concubine on a glebe that 
 has scarcely meat on it to keep a cow in 
 bones ! A fig for such Lutterworth parsons, 
 say I — or this, if it suit you better, my chap- 
 man!" and he concluded with a gesture that 
 again awakened a burst of sympathetic 
 laughter in that meet audience, while it 
 shook the air with a fleshy clap. 
 
 " God go with you, and go your ways, for 
 you will not find him in ours, master scholar !" 
 said Mug wort. 
 
 " Good sirs, in my land we do not treat
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 313 
 
 strangers thus; and your own ballads give 
 warranty for a kinder reception of this one ! 
 Mind ye not the song your milk-maids them- 
 selves do oft chaunt in my hearing?" said 
 now a voice of singularly rich and melodious 
 tone, which came from a person who had very 
 lately mingled with the throng around the 
 cock-fighters. And the speaker continued 
 by singing with wonderful sweetness, though 
 with a good deal of a foreign accent, a verse 
 of some ballad probably familiarly known at 
 the time : — 
 
 " For the sake of my fair face stable my steed — 
 Kicher than gold is beauty's meed, 
 
 And that I will pay to thee ! 
 I have ridden far with those jingling bells, 
 But sweeter music within me dwells. 
 
 And that I wiU play to thee !" 
 
 Roodspere turned his gaze on this new 
 interlocutor with some curiosity. But there 
 was little to satisfy inquiry. The figure appa- 
 rently of a young man, tall and well-made, some- 
 what peculiarly broad and full in the chest, in 
 the scarlet gown of a chorister, whose counte- 
 nance was almost covered in a black hood, 
 was before him. From the shadows of this 
 species of open mask the glow of a pair of 
 
 VOL. I. 2 E
 
 314 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY; OK, 
 
 very brilliant and restless eyes, of strange opal 
 hues, a deep golden purple being the pre- 
 dominant one, encountered his glance. The 
 rest of the visage could scarcely be distin- 
 guished, but the complexion seemed of a 
 sultry brown, evidently acquired by exposure 
 to fiercer suns than ever shone in England, or 
 native to its hues, and masses of wild, raven- 
 black hair clung disorderly around it and on 
 his shoulders, like the mane of an unbroken 
 steed. 
 
 " I wish to speak with the Lord Abbot — 
 I have business of infinite moment with him !" 
 said Roodspere, much mollified by the courteous 
 interference of the stranger. 
 
 " He is in his great chamber. I will guide 
 you thither, master," replied the chorister, 
 and now, with a still more foreign utterance, 
 though he endeavoured with great success 
 to shape his expressions vernacularly. He 
 succeeded singularly well in all but the 
 accentuation. 
 
 " You may guide us both then, dan chorister, 
 for we are here on the same business !" 
 said Cromwel, suddenly emerging from the 
 midst of the crowd where he had hitherto 
 kept up a quiet observation on all that passed. 
 
 " Holy Bennet ! who is this ? Master Secre-
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 315 
 
 tary Cromwel ?" exclaimed the stranger, with 
 a start that shook his whole frame, and retreat- 
 ing with as much precipitation as if he had 
 seen a serpent suddenly erect its crest and 
 forked tongue upon his path. 
 
 " I am Master Secretary Cromwel ! But 
 how know ye me, fair sir ? Where did we 
 ever meet heretofore :" returned Cromwel, 
 gazing with evident curiosity at the cowled 
 songster — with something indeed of puzzled 
 wonder mingling in the calm austerity of 
 analysis to which he usually subjected 
 strangers. 
 
 " Nay, sir, I know you not ! — All men know 
 you for that you are, Master Cromwel! — All 
 men in this much-vexed and harassed com- 
 munity !" replied the chorister, with evident 
 inconsequence and perturbation, and the panic- 
 stricken looks of cellarer Gildas, and of the 
 Abbey vassalage around him, attested that 
 Cromwel was certainly more generally known 
 than admired among them. Many of the 
 rabble, indeed, began quietly to steal away, 
 as if averse to encounter his observation. 
 
 " Then master dan chorister ! — but by what 
 name may we more shortly conjure you 
 withal ?" said Cromwel with unabated curiosity
 
 316 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 — perhaps it might have been with some 
 keener and more absorbing sentiment. 
 
 " Romanus sum ! — I am of Italy, fair sir, 
 and speak your tongue of England but 
 brokenly ! Speak to me in Latin or Italian, I 
 pray you, if you would that I should un- 
 derstand more than sounds, in your utterance ! 
 I am called Dan Gloria — Dan Gloria-in-Ex- 
 celsis, in the Abbey here ! I am prsecentor of 
 the choir, and my Lord, the prior, who sent 
 for me from Italy, gave me that name because 
 there is triumph in Heaven over a sinner 
 saved — and because you English cannot easily 
 pronounce my proper one !" replied the cho- 
 rister, with remarkable confusion of words and 
 manner. 
 
 " Why then, master prsecentor — by St. 
 Paul, you speak good enough English — to 
 show us the way to your Abbot's presence !" 
 returned Cromwel, with imperious vivacity. 
 " And for you, dan cellarer," he continued 
 directing his notice to the huge but now 
 quaking and dismayed monk, " while we go 
 thither, hasten to summon all your brethren — 
 the prior and treasurer in especial — to hear 
 certain letters read from the Lord Legate's 
 grace, which concern all of ye in general and 
 in particular, and disobedience to which will
 
 THE DATS OF THE REFORMATION. 317 
 
 bring down upon you all the lightnings of his 
 wrath, to consume ye utterly !" 
 
 ** God keep me ! — I am but one — a poor 
 manciple and steward of the kitchen to my 
 Lord St. Peter of AVestminster !" said the dis- 
 mayed official, crossing himself as if against 
 the visible presence of the fiend. 
 
 " The Lord Prior is in the very summit of 
 the Abbey, in his hermitage ! — faint in the 
 third day of a fast he is keeping on behalf 
 of the church, against heretics !" said the 
 chorister, in a very flurried tone. 
 
 " And our treasurer is keeping a devotion 
 which he ever observes before the Feast of St. 
 Edward, at the Shrine ! — Three thousand 
 Paters and as many Aves, going round it on 
 his knees, for the repose of the soul of the 
 sometime honoured Lady Bigod of Chepstow, 
 who died on the steps thereof, five-and-thirty 
 years ago !" groaned Gildas. 
 
 " Let him lay the lash on thy fat shoulders 
 instead, without stint or mercy, till Mugwort 
 here cries ' Hold !' and by no enforcement of 
 his spouse's bitter tongue !" returned Cromwel, 
 jeeringly. " Look to it! — neglect what other 
 duty ye may, all of ye instantly herd to the 
 presence of your Abbot, to hear the contents 
 of these letters I bear — or it will be the worse 
 
 2 E 2
 
 318 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OB, 
 
 for all recusants ! And now good Roman, if 
 Roman ye be-^for your voice sounds to me as 
 much a woman's as a man's and neither com- 
 pletely — ^but that is the favourite one, I wot 
 well, among your Italian Leos and Clements ! — 
 I command you, in virtue of the obedience I 
 am empowered to exact by my commission in 
 this Abbey — lead to my Lord Abbot's 
 audience !" 
 
 The prsecentor seemed to hesitate for a 
 moment — but on consideration evidently 
 thought it best to obey without further remon- 
 strance ; and accordingly with a foreign cringe 
 of courtesy which was not so naturally 
 assumed as he doubtless intended, he led the 
 way from the midst of the dissolving crowd 
 towards the Abbey.
 
 THE DATS OP THE BEFOEMATION. 319 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE JERUSALEM CHAMBEE. 
 
 But first I pray you of your courtesie, 
 That you n'arrette it not my vilainie, 
 If that I plainly speke in this matere, 
 To tellen you their wordes and their cheer ! 
 
 Chaucee. 
 
 Like most other abbots of high dignity, 
 those of "Westminster had a special house- 
 hold and residence assigned for their separate 
 habitation. This mansion was a continuation 
 of the western front of the abbey church, to 
 which it might be said to adhere by the un- 
 sightly protuberance of the Jerusalem Cham- 
 ber, an ugly excrescence that still deforms the 
 grand facade there— and no longer on any 
 reasonable pretext. It is not now reverenced 
 as the apartment where the first king of the 
 Lancastrian dynasty breathed his last — it is no 
 longer a chamber of state rendered necessary 
 by any profuse hospitality on the part of the 
 ecclesiastics who have succeeded the monks of
 
 320 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 Westminster. It hangs on the south-west 
 tower like a tumour on an oak, as if devised 
 for the express purpose of destroying the gran- 
 deur of the effect of the whole front — an 
 anuerism on the mighty limb of a gladiator, 
 that banishes the ideas of beauty and strength 
 alike. How often has the chronologer of these 
 memorials, when verifying the local truth of the 
 antique records of the same, devoutly wished 
 that this chamber possessed the locomotive 
 power and spirit of the similarly hideous chapel 
 of Loretto ! 
 
 Dan Gloria led the way past the western 
 front with a rapid and yet unwilling step, as if 
 anxious to get a disagreeable and also a 
 dangerous task over. He then turned aside 
 into a vaulted passage, emerging in a court- 
 yard of considerable extent, surrounded by 
 the houses appropriated for the use of the 
 canons, or superior monks, of the abbey — 
 stately buildings congenial in architecture with 
 the great pile that fronted them, though pro- 
 ably of a still remoter antiquity, as was wit- 
 nessed by the circular form of the arches, and 
 the lack of tracery ornaments and of mullions 
 in the windows. It was a species of cloister ; 
 though not that known in the abbey by the 
 name, which was assigned to the general com-
 
 THE DAYS or THE EEPOEMATION. 321 
 
 munity. A low massive vaulting ran round 
 the sides of the court-yard, supported on these 
 arches, and turning to the left the party soon 
 arrived before the ponderous portal admitting 
 to the abbot's house. 
 
 But ere they reached this point, Cromwel 
 made an attempt to enter into confabula- 
 tion with their guide, which met with very 
 slight success. " Are you a native of these 
 parts, that have dwelt long outlandishly, master 
 praecentor? — or how say you! you are of 
 Italy?" 
 
 " Signor, si ! I am not wonted to your 
 tongue ! — ^I know not if I answer to your ques- 
 tions aright — Roma est patria mea" replied 
 the choir-master, and now indeed in very 
 foreign-sounding English. 
 
 " If you speak Latin, my master, here is a 
 learned scholar could talk Cicero dumb ! Ask 
 this fair-spoken stranger. Master Roodspere, 
 why he wears his liripoop so closely over his 
 face ?" said Cromwel. " Ask him if he is 
 ashamed to show it, or if 'tis too precious for 
 the common daylight that he keeps it so closely 
 pent in a lavender-bag ?" 
 
 Roodspere put this question in a civiller 
 form, and in Latin that Erasmus would have 
 thought good ; but was also foiled by the
 
 322 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY J OE, 
 
 praecentor's reply. " Non capisco, master 
 scholar ! — I am none. My only science is in 
 church psalmody ; it is in vain to conjure me 
 in any learned tongue." 
 
 There was an agitation in the tone of this 
 evasion that seemed only to provoke Cromwel's 
 curiosity further. " Methought he said he 
 understood dog or monkish Latin ? I would I 
 remembered enow Italian to make my meaning 
 intelligible in his own tongue ! But then, may- 
 hap, he would understand only some special 
 dialect. Yet the camp of Charles of Bourbon 
 should have taught me as many as were 
 talked at Babel ! Mayhap he can understand 
 somewhat with the aid of signs ? — Why wear 
 you that black cap, good stranger, as an ye 
 were in reality the pretty warbler we call by 
 the name ?" 
 
 " In pcenilentiam -—I wear my hood in 
 penance, sir, by ordination of my superiors," 
 said Dan Gloria, in a tone of hypocritical 
 humility, and with a furtive glance between 
 his half-closed eyelashes, like a gleam beneath 
 the door of a haunted chamber. 
 
 *' Are you so handsome that the good monks 
 feared you might win women's eyes to their 
 detriment in the choir?" returned Cromwel. 
 
 " Therein is my offence — in women ! — and
 
 THE DATS OF THE EEPOEMATION. 323 
 
 therefore do I my church offices ever in my 
 hood, whence if mine eyes wander, they can- 
 not allure others into the like sin !" said Dan 
 Gloria. 
 
 " And is this penance imposed by your 
 most holy patron the black-visaged prior who 
 brought you hither from Italy, Master Gloria 
 — in Excelsis, said you ?" 
 
 " Those who speak of the Lord Prior Sanc- 
 graal, in Westminster — call him so !" returned 
 the prsecentor, with petulant vehemence. 
 
 " How long are you from Italy — from Rome, 
 master songster?" said Cromwel, not in the 
 least perturbed by this manifestation. 
 
 " "Why would you know ? — More than three 
 years I have been wandering in France and 
 the lowlands of Germania — ere I came under 
 these frowning skies of yours ! — I would I 
 were in mine own land again !" said Dan 
 Gloria, with emotion. 
 
 *' It is but natural — yet I have known some 
 that liked your hot purple heavens as ill as ye 
 like ours ! There was a wild wench at the 
 sack of Rome, that shared the tent of a soldier 
 of fortune there, who would oft sing, I mind 
 not the tune, but these are the words, for she 
 was not a Roman — she was an Englishwoman !"
 
 324 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 said Cromwel, continuing with the following 
 verses, in a very unmusical recitative: — 
 
 Alone I fare in a far countrie, 
 The sky and the earth are strangers to me — 
 I know them not, and all triglit though they he, 
 I wish I were at home again ! 
 
 These flowers are fairer far than mine ; 
 The sun overhead has a goldener shine ; 
 And yet for my native land I pine, 
 
 And wish I were at home again ! 
 
 It is not that any will welcome me, 
 With joy in their smUes, to my own countrie ; 
 But the earth will lie lighter there on me, 
 I wish I were at home again ! 
 
 " It IS an old ballad here in England, Master 
 Cromwel ! I have oft heard it sung here in 
 England," returned the prsecentor, with in- 
 creasing agitation, evinced by a staggering in 
 his tones, and even in his gait. 
 
 " Had you been in Rome at the glorious 
 sacking thereof, you would have heard it oft 
 sung by the woman of whom I speak ! Dalilah, 
 we called her in the camp, for that she was 
 the paramour of one Ritter Sampson, a stout 
 German lanceknight on the Emperor's part — 
 a damsel whose voice was almost as luscious 
 honey in the sense as yours, master praecentor,"
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATIOX. 325 
 
 said Cromwel, watching his interlocutor with 
 quiet but very intense observation. 
 
 " Laus domino ! this is the abbot's gate," 
 said Dan Gloria, without making any reply to 
 the compliment, and seizing a hammer sus- 
 pended to the oaken door, he knocked at it 
 with the startling energy of a modern postman. 
 " You will find the guest-master within, who 
 will guide your further way," he then observed, 
 and was about precipitately to retire, when 
 Cromwel, with the skill of an old campaigner, 
 suddenly crossed the line of his retreat. 
 
 " Nay, master praecentor !" he exclaimed, 
 " let us see that precious visage of thine, ere 
 thou depart, for I love to know my friends 
 again, wherever I meet them, and am bounden 
 to you now in much civility." At the same 
 time he clutched the Italian's shoulder eagerly, 
 and attempted to raise his hood. But the hot 
 blood of Dan Gloria's country was too quickly 
 roused — in fact he seemed to have been on his 
 guard against some such attack, for stepping 
 back and shaking Cromwel's hold violently off, 
 he drew a dagger, concealed in the folds of his 
 robe, and held it aloft as if prepared to strike, 
 if necessary, to secure his liberation. " Nor 
 thou nor any other heretic knave in the world 
 shall compel me to break my vow ! Master 
 
 VOL. I. 2 F
 
 326 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR 
 
 clerk, as you are a true priest, and would pre- 
 vent bloodshed on holy ground, make your 
 fellow desist from his sacrilege !" 
 
 Cromwel in his turn was struck with sur- 
 prise, but not long with any degree of alarm 
 he might at first have felt, for measuring the 
 chorister, with his eyebrows elevated, from 
 head to foot, he burst into a derisive peel of 
 laughter. " Here's a much ado about nothing! 
 our chicken Hildebrand has a sharp spur 
 before he has a hackel to his crest ! Nay, 
 Roodspere, it needs not your good offices — let 
 the fool go in the devil's name ! We will not 
 trouble to pick the maggots out of the wool 
 till we have cut and quartered the sheep !" 
 
 Dan Gloria stayed not to inquire the drift 
 of this ominous phrase, but still holding his 
 weapon raised, retired a few steps, and suddenly 
 took to his heels with the speed of a hunted 
 hare. Roodspere looked in astonishment at 
 the secretary — who replied to the tacit query 
 in a vexed and puzzled manner. " I am sorry 
 I frighted him — fair and softly goes far ! — yet 
 I had a fool's reason for what I did — a fancy 
 of my own — which I will tell you anon, for 
 here comes some answerer to our loud petition 
 of entrance." 
 
 The portal opened as he spoke, and a monk
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 327 
 
 of very different characteristics from the cho- 
 rister Dan Gloria, made his appearance. 
 Nature herself seemed to have given a 
 cringing bend to his frame ; an expression of 
 hypocritical humility overspread his demure 
 features, for it was contradicted by the lurking 
 craft on his lips and downcast eyes, which 
 men skilled in physiognomy like Cromwel 
 might readily detect. He wore a purple 
 scapulary, and this ornament with the purse at 
 his girdle denoted that he enjoyed the rank of 
 almoner in the monastery. This functionary 
 inquired their business in smooth and oily 
 accents, without raising his eyes, until Cromwel 
 suddenly seized him by the hand, exclaiming, 
 " Why, brother Quodvultdeus ! — master 
 almoner! — in how brief a while dost thou 
 forget a friend of such old standing as Thomas 
 Cromwel?" The startled official raised his 
 modest eyelids, and recognised the person who 
 addressed him with evident alarm. " In God's 
 blessed name, master secretary ! I did ever 
 beseech of you to make as if you knew me 
 not, if perchance you saw me among our 
 folk!" 
 
 " But there are none here save friends — -and 
 friends of great potency, good brother ! " re- 
 plied Cromwel, smiling. " How is it with
 
 328 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 you all in the Abbey — for it never was better 
 than now with me ? " 
 
 *' Much as wonted, master secretary ! " re- 
 plied the almoner, still in a timorous under- 
 tone. " Our father abbot keeps his faculties 
 as well as an old, bedridden man of four- 
 score winters and upwards can be expected, 
 Jesu be praised ! — And what he lacks the 
 lord prior and master treasurer do abundantly 
 supply — saving that master treasurer's palsy 
 of the neck gains upon him with his grievous 
 fastings and macerations — and our holy prior 
 spends so much of his time in heaven that he 
 sees not how wrong everything is going among 
 us down below ! " 
 
 "Well, well, we shall amend all ere we 
 have done ; for lo ye, brother, in accordance 
 with your repeated privy suggestions, I have 
 brought you a visitor ! " replied Cromwel. 
 
 " A visitor ! — from the Cardinal's court ?" 
 repeated the almoner, and certainly not with 
 the apparently anticipated satisfaction. 
 
 " Yea, for the office were too invidious and 
 liable to suspicion if fulfilled by any of the 
 brethren of Westminster — else I know none 
 fitter for it than yourself — and methinks you 
 did once as much as say you would accept it, 
 if proff'ered ! " said Cromwel.
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFOEMATTON. 329 
 
 " Heaven forfend ! heaven forfend I should 
 take on me such state and mastery over my 
 brethren — who already look upon me with 
 peevish eyes ! " said Quodvultdeus, with an 
 expression of disappointment he could not 
 altogether dissemble — yet brightening as 
 another thought occurred to him. " But do 
 you indeed come to put one in place and 
 dominion over my lord prior himself ? " 
 
 " Even so," replied Cromwel. " And upon 
 this business we must see Abbot Islip in- 
 stantly." 
 
 "Alas, he is too old and infirm. Master 
 Cromwel ! — as I told you, the prior and trea- 
 surer rule everything now ! — nay, even Father 
 Gislebert himself gives way to the young 
 man in most things ! " said the almoner. 
 *' Take your message to them — for they are all 
 in all with us ! " 
 
 " See you, good brother ! these letters are 
 addressed to the Lord Abbot of Westminster, 
 and him will I deliver them unto, and to no 
 other ! " returned Cromwel. 
 
 " I will inform our reverend father, as is my 
 duty, being his guest-master for the month, of 
 your will ! — But he is so childishly busied in 
 the gear that is getting ready for St. Edward's 
 Feast — painting and gilding the great altar- 
 
 2 F 2
 
 330 WESTMINSTEK ABBEY ; OTi, 
 
 candles — that I know not if he will lend me 
 any ear," said the almoner. " Meanwhile, 
 master secretary, will it please you, as a most 
 honoured visitant, to ascend to the great cham- 
 ber of presence ? " 
 
 Cromwel signified assent, and the almoner 
 led the way* into the spacious apartment still 
 known as the Jerusalem Chamber. In those 
 days it was appropriately hung with tapestry, 
 representing in motionless panorama the Holy 
 City and the surrounding country, with the 
 principal events of the life of the Saviour 
 going on simultaneously in the localities iden- 
 tified by the imagination of mediaeval faith with 
 those mentioned in the records of the Evan- 
 gelists. And here Cromwel and Roodspere 
 were left while the almoner hastened to deliver 
 his message. 
 
 " They will be in a rare panic anon !" said 
 Cromwel, smiling. " By the Lord Harry, our 
 noble king ! I well believe they would poison 
 the very air of the monastery if they knew 
 that I was breathing it, an they could ! — This 
 smooth-licking fox, our messenger, Master 
 Roodspere, will be of great use to you as he 
 has already been to me ! He would fain hunt 
 with the hounds — yet hath only the courage to 
 run with the hare !"
 
 THE DAYS or THE EEEORMATION. 331 
 
 " But why made you your onset on the 
 Roman chaunter?" said Roodspere, who still 
 remembered the circumstance with surprise. 
 
 " Ay, truly ! — I will tell you," said Crom- 
 wel, also with interest. " Mayhap you may 
 have heard how, some two years agone, I was 
 in Italy, on the Cardinal's service — with the 
 army of the Duke of Bourbon? — I was its 
 paymaster, though but in the guise of a 
 common trooper — I had carried a pike ere 
 then, God wot, which made me semblable 
 enough to my post. We were at outward 
 peace with France, and warred only with our 
 gold ! — And so it chanced I was at the storm- 
 ing of Rome, and at all the bloody revel of its 
 sack. Now there was a famous lanceknight 
 among us — a German Lutheran, captain of a 
 free company in the emperor's service — who in 
 the ravaging made no bones of helping himself 
 to a nun of the Magdalens of Mount Aventine 
 — a sisterhood of penitent harlots who do take 
 that fair saint for their patroness and model. — 
 Rather was this one set free to resume her old 
 trade, for she of whom I speak was the wildest 
 and most shameless wassailer amid all the 
 drunken madness of the times ! It chanced 
 that I saw this damsel often in the German 
 quarters, and as she was much loved and
 
 332 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OB, 
 
 trusted by her paramour and divers others of 
 the chief German captains, I showed her the 
 Cardinal's gold, and drew what information I 
 needed from her, to the great profit of our 
 afiairs, though dangerously as men gather 
 samphire on the hanging crags ! In time we 
 grew into a friendliness, and I discovered she 
 was an Englishwoman. She told me some 
 passages of her history, saying how she was of 
 fair parentage in England, and a wealthy 
 London trader's wife — who had been induced 
 to desert an honest home by a monk who met 
 with her on a pilgrimage to Canterbury, and 
 who was wending to Home on the business of 
 his order. How she accompanied him thither 
 in pilgrim's weeds — how he grew weary of her, 
 and, feigning to elude the vigilance of certain 
 spies of his brotherhood who, he pretended, 
 watched him — put her in a convent, where she 
 was afterwards detained by force until she 
 submitted, sorely against grain, to become a 
 nun of the ignominious and melancholic 
 order of the Sackcloth Magdalens. She told 
 me that she dwelt nearly four years a prisoner 
 in those gloomy walls, until freed by the sword 
 and flame of the Lutherans ! She would never 
 tell me who the monk was, though I offered 
 to get her justice done on him, by the Car-
 
 THE DATS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 333 
 
 dinal's means, for his cruel betrayal and 
 abandonment. She said she would take ven- 
 geance on him herself — that none other could 
 or should ! Neither would she ever avow her 
 o^vn or her husband's name, lest she should 
 further wrong her parentage by the disgrace of 
 her then life ! Her captor's name being 
 Sampson, so called from his great strength and 
 bulk, I christened her Dalilah ; but the Ger- 
 mans called her the Pop ess, on account of her 
 altogether favouring Clement in his resistance, 
 and predicting only an ill issue to our sacrile- 
 gious siege ! For all the harm the church had 
 done her, still her fond superstition might not 
 be undeceived, and still the Pope in his starved 
 castle was to her an assailed divinity ! Well, 
 Master Roodspere, this Popess Dalilah had a 
 most exquisite tuneable voice, and was perfect 
 mistress of the Italian pricksong, which she 
 learned among the nuns of Aventine, for I have 
 oft heard her sing the vilest ballads to the 
 most churchmanly chaunts ! She had eyes of 
 singular flame and brilliancy, too — a little mad 
 I sometimes thought — and this Dan Gloria's, 
 glittering from his hood — " 
 
 But Cromwel's story was broken short by 
 the return of the almoner, with information 
 that the Lord Abbot was ill at ease and un-
 
 334 TVESTMINSTEK ABBEY ; OE, 
 
 prepared to receive strangers ; that of late, 
 from his sickness and infirmities, he transacted 
 but little of the business of the monastery ; 
 and, in brief, referred the messengers of the 
 legatine court, for full satisfaction, to his dear 
 son and substitute, the Prior Sancgraal. 
 
 " Return," said Cromwel, in a vehement 
 tone, " return to your Lord Abbot and tell him 
 that to him and to him only will I deliver my 
 mandate ! I will attend him wheresoever he 
 pleases — and add, that if he is too old and 
 frail to perform the duties of his office, it is a 
 sign from heaven — and his grace will take it as 
 such — that he should resign it into stronger 
 hands !" 
 
 " Am I to repeat these words to our vene- 
 rable Lord Abbot — who is indeed very old — 
 and verging on his dotage, if not quite in it?" 
 said the almoner, in a meekly submissive 
 manner. 
 
 *' Go, and add to that whatever of heavier 
 menace you can devise !" said Cromwel ; and 
 Brother Quodvultdeus hastened to obey. " We 
 shall have them all here presently like a flight 
 of frighted crows ! I see the rogue laughing in 
 his sleeve," continued the secretary. " Well, 
 this Popess of ours. Master Roodspere — where 
 was I r — You will be wrong if you conclude
 
 THE DAYS OF THE EEFOEMATION. 335 
 
 any ill of it, but my intercourse M'ith my 
 English espial came to be suspected, in most 
 wrongful guise ! It pleased the drunken swine 
 of a German to fall jealous of me ; and one 
 day, in person, so foul, that I was fain to keep 
 my distance from his quarters for a long 
 season after. And when at last a shot from 
 Santangelo battered in his heavy skullpiece, I 
 learned that his leman suddenly disappeared, 
 with all the lighter valuables of his plunder, 
 from the camp. She had provoked the Lu- 
 theran soldiers by ever denouncing woe and ill- 
 fortune upon them in their siege, and the Kitters 
 quarrelled among themselves for her succes- 
 sion — and so she fled the camp — though indeed 
 some would have it she was murdered in a 
 drunken brawl they fought for her over the 
 shattered carcass of her paramour ! — Now 
 why may it not well be — ? But, lo ye ! our 
 monks are thoroughly awakened now ! They 
 have set the alarum-bell a-toUing !" 
 
 The almoner re-entered as Cromwel made 
 his abrupt digression with an appearance of 
 great dismay, but with information that the 
 Lord Abbot would cause his principal officers 
 to be summoned, and receive the messengers 
 in person on his day-bed, to which he was 
 confined by his infirmities. The tolling of the
 
 336 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 bell, he explained, summoned the monks whose 
 age or offices gave them a voice in the abbey's 
 councils, to the presence of their chief. 
 
 " It is well," said Cromwel, " I have oft 
 desired to see the whole witty conclave assem- 
 bled 'that condemned Hunne's dead body to 
 the flames ! Ay, to the lowest acolyte and 
 servitor — I would fain see ye all ! I trow 
 me, some of ye might be advanced more to 
 your deservings ! This new glorious praecen- 
 tor of yours of the number, could the Cardinal 
 hear his sweet notes ! Who is he — whence is 
 he — what is he ? How chanced it I never saw 
 or heard of this Dan Gloria before ?" 
 
 " He is an Italian, a most especial favourite 
 of my Lord Prior's, chauntmaster in our 
 choir ! — but he is seldom seen by strangers !" 
 replied the almoner with a significance in his 
 speech, and still more in his pauses, that 
 greatly struck Cromwel. " He is of a 
 morose and solitary disposition — scarce 
 speaks our English tongue at all — save when 
 he pleases — and seems, like a cricket, only 
 alive when he is singing ! Moreover, though 
 he hath a voice of marvellous sweetness in the 
 chaunts, and hath trained our choristers to 
 sing like the angels — we are not accustomed 
 to such manner of womanish warblers, in
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 337 
 
 men's garb, in England — and so he shuns all 
 society and companyship — save with his good 
 patron and lord our prior I" 
 
 " Ay, so ? And doth he frequent him 
 very diligently ?" said Cromwel. 
 
 " A most constant familiar and attendant. 
 Master Cromwel !" replied the almoner, with 
 a quaint smile. " Not publicly, indeed ; but 
 in his hermitage and cell — or when my Lord 
 Prior takes his rounds in the Sanctuary — or 
 visits our manors at Hampstead and Hendon, 
 or elsewhere farther out of sight — we have 
 some score of them in scattered places ! My 
 lord chooses this foreigner then for his special 
 attendant, and will talk with him in his own 
 language, and [soothe him with all manner of 
 kindness and condescensions — for 'tis a jealous 
 pettish fellow, who lives the life of a tame 
 wolf, that would fain be off again to his wilds ! 
 But my lord prior is above all things desirous 
 that our novices and choirmen should learn to 
 chaunt as they do in the Pope's chapel, at 
 Rome !" 
 
 " How long has he been among you? and 
 how came he hither ?" said Cromwel, with 
 affected carelessness. 
 
 " Come St. Edward's Feast again, and he 
 will have been among us one year to a day I 
 
 VOL. I. 2 G
 
 338 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OR, 
 
 He brought letters, so our prior told us, from 
 a noble Cardinal, his friend in Rome — whom 
 he had prayed to send him such a one !" 
 replied the almoner, with a low, internal laugh 
 that was yet sufficiently audible. " But to 
 my thought, he needed no other recommenda- 
 tion than his merits — and belike had none ! — 
 unless our prior and he were older acquaint- 
 ances than my lord thought proper to allege ; 
 doubtless to prevent envy and scandal among 
 our own musicianers — for I never saw any man 
 more suddenly taken as it were with an amaze- 
 ment of surprise than he when, in St. Edward's 
 mass, master ^praecentor took up the Gloria 
 before all the church without permission of 
 any man, and filled it as full of music as the 
 pipes of any organ with its own melodious 
 thunder !" 
 
 " Say you so ? We must hear more of this 
 anon !" said Cromwel, exchanging a glance 
 with Roodspere that startled him. " And say 
 you too that it is who but he in the monastery 
 now? — as usually chances with a great lord's 
 favourite !" 
 
 " Nay, sir, I said with my lord prior only ! 
 I love him not and have no cause — for he 
 it was, I verily believe, who gave me the 
 nickname of the weasel ! And, laud be to
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 339 
 
 our lady ! Father Gislebert holds him in as 
 infinite misliking and scorn, for I have over- 
 heard him many times, with vehement anger 
 and entreaty, desire of the prior his banish- 
 ment from the abbey !" 
 
 " Ay, indeed ?" said Cromwel, " Methought 
 the old man seldom differed in opinion from 
 his beloved pupil ? But mayhap this Italian 
 hath wit enough to know when he is well — 
 and will not go ?" 
 
 "In very troth," replied the almoner, lick- 
 ing his lips with the inoffensive look of a 
 cat stealing out of a dairy ; " in very troth ! 
 I have thought of late that Prior Sancgraal 
 would gladly be rid of him, if he could find 
 any fair reason and pretence to send him back 
 to his country !" 
 
 " I am glad he hath not — very glad ! 
 But here are footsteps — who comes hither- 
 ward ?" said Cromwel. 
 
 " It is Father Gislebert. I know him by 
 the stroke of his staff on the stairs !" replied 
 the almoner. " You should see how he is 
 wasted to a gaunt skeleton, master secretary, 
 that was once as stately of his person, and fit 
 to be an abbey lord, as ever I looked upon ! 
 Verily, I cannot but think some black remorse 
 drinks his blood in secret, vampire-like ! But
 
 340 WESTMINSTER ABBEY ; OK, 
 
 even his beloved nurseling, Prior Sancgraal, 
 esteems his doddering paralysis God's judg- 
 ment upon him for abandoning holy church's 
 privilege ! — for his head is ever shaking as a 
 man's doth that saith ' No,' as he did when 
 he pleaded not guilty of Hunne's death at 
 the king's bar !" 
 
 " Yet he hath but raged the more hainously 
 ever since, like a wolf when it hath once tasted 
 blood, against those whom he calls heretics ! 
 It is but lex talionis — if Hunne's neck was 
 broken in his dungeon !" said Cromwel. 
 
 The door opened while he was yet speaking, 
 and admitted the subject of the encomium. 
 It was an old monk with the remains of what 
 had once been a tall and noble person, but 
 which was now bowed by decrepitude almost to 
 the girdle. His countenance was emaciated 
 and withered as if with some consuming 
 inward cark, and his head shook incessantly 
 with palsy of the spine like that of a man- 
 darin on a Chinese toy. Gloom and suspicion 
 were the characteristics of his expression, 
 which might have been taken for the very 
 ideal of an inquisitor's — of a man steeled by 
 his own sufferings to inflict those of others ! 
 He leaned on a stout staff of twisted vine- 
 root, resembling a serpent, and he kept one
 
 THE DAYS OF THE REFORMATION. 341 
 
 of his fingers on a bead of the string that hung 
 at his girdle, as if to preserve his place in the 
 annotation of an assigned devotion. 
 
 The old monk fixed his anxious and piercing 
 gaze on the strangers before him — though only 
 one of them strictly merited the designation. 
 " It is not unknown to you, Master Cromwel," 
 he said, with little ceremony of salutation, 
 " that our father abbot is sickly and aged, 
 and therefore lays the burdensome govern- 
 ment of this house chiefly on younger shoulders. 
 But our lord prior is also at this moment 
 absorpt in a certain supererogatory devotion ! 
 — therefore I am his deputy to know your 
 pleasure!" 
 
 " It is not my pleasure, dan treasurer, but 
 that of my lord legate, I come here to do, 
 whose letters are directed to Abbot Islip's 
 own hands, and I should fail in my duty if I 
 suffered any one else to break their seal !" 
 
 "Letters! — from the lord legate?" re- 
 peated Gislebert, with a ghastly whitening of 
 his already pallid visage. "What is the 
 matter ? AVhat have we done ? What new 
 tribulation would my lord cardinal bring upon 
 us, the woful and unoffending children of St. 
 Edward?" 
 
 Cromwel persisted in his demand to see
 
 342 WESTMINSTER ABBEY; OE, 
 
 the abbot, in spite of this and every other 
 query and subterfuge which for some time 
 the treasurer pressed upon him almost as 
 craftily as he parried his efforts. Cromwel 
 announced he was aware the abbot was 
 amusing himself with preparations for their 
 approaching festival, and therefore was well 
 enough able to see a messenger on business 
 so important as that he had in hand. He was 
 pleased with the increasing anxiety and agita- 
 tion of the treasurer, whose head continued 
 to tremble like [a pea on a pipestopple — his 
 alarms, according to that acute observer, por- 
 tending some internal consciousness of the 
 unsoundness of his defences. But the dis- 
 cussion was happily terminated by an un- 
 looked-for event. The doors were thrown 
 widely open, and Abbot Islip himself, sur- 
 rounded by a numerous cohort of his monks, 
 was borne into the Jerusalem Chamber. He 
 lay upon a couch under a costly coverlet of 
 damask velvet, with his mitre and crozier on 
 either side of the pillows that propped him, 
 which, carried on wooden trestles, and denomi- 
 nated a day-bed, supplied the place of the 
 modern invalid sofa. 
 
 A figure walked beside this couch, or rather 
 dragged himself, with a strange serpent-like,
 
 THE DAYS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 343 
 
 smooth wabble along with it, the first glance 
 at which satisfied Roodspere that he beheld 
 the redoubtable orator who had consigned 
 Hunne's body to the flames, and the now 
 still more formidable and renowned Prior 
 Bigod of Westminster ! 
 
 END OF VOL. T. 
 
 LONDON: J. MORTIMER, 141, STRAND.