V 

 
 BLACKFMARS ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MONKS OF OLD 
 
 IX THREE YOLLIIES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 LONGMAN, GKEEN, LONGMAN, ROBERTS k GREEN 
 
 1864.
 
 LOXDO.V 
 
 RICHARD BARRETT PKIXTES, 
 
 MARK LAXE.
 
 
 «0 
 
 C0 tl;j Han 
 
 WHO HATH EARNED HOXOUR BY 
 
 MULTIFARIOUS ACTS IN A LABORIOUS PROFESSION, 
 
 AND HATH, AMONG HIS CONTEMPORARIES, UNANIMOUSJ-Y GAINED IT 
 
 C0 a ifatljer 
 
 V 
 
 f 
 
 # 
 
 WHOSE DOMESTIC VIRTUES HAVE 
 
 ENDEARED HIM FONDLY TO A LARGE FAMILY CIRCLE, 
 
 THESE VOLUMES ARE AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY 
 
 DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 >.\
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/blackfriarsormon01step
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 It has been well said, that a writer of the 
 present day must be continually at fault in 
 attempting to reproduce, upon a modern stage, 
 ancient times, ancient men, and ancient customs. 
 To pry into the profound depths of an almost 
 fathomless Antiquity, or make any attempt to 
 drain the fountain of antiquarian research, is a 
 task far beyond the capacity of one poor human 
 brain. 
 
 Therefore, in the very outset, must we state 
 
 A
 
 11 PREFACE. 
 
 that nothing can be further from our desire, 
 than that these volumes should be analyzed or 
 subjected to the usual critical rules of historic 
 composition. Weighed and tested in such a 
 scale, they would be, we tremblingly confess, 
 eminently defective. Our monastic disclosures, 
 our romance, and our historical abridgement — 
 a tangled web of Fact and Fiction — are too 
 poor a game for the Ithuriel spear of Criticism. 
 
 Romance, for many years past, hath pirated nu- 
 merous valuables from the rich stores of our most 
 famed Antiquaries and Topographers, and with 
 its Magian wand hath resuscitated the dry bones 
 and crumbling ruins those Industriosi have, with 
 such wondrous painstaking, furbished up and 
 heaped together. 
 
 That we have dived somewhat deeply into 
 antique book-lore, we acknowledge ; although 
 our research hath not been altogether re- 
 warded, in accordance with our wish or an- 
 ticipation. There are many points touched
 
 PREFACE. Ill 
 
 upon in these volumes, upon which we cannot 
 venture to speak so authoritatively as we could 
 have desired, while, in regard to others, we must 
 be distinctly understood not to have written ex 
 cathedra. 
 
 But we may be here permitted to plead, that 
 it is almost impossible to have been more rigidly 
 scrupulous in all that concerns the correctness of 
 the important data or the general outhnes of this 
 legendary chronicle than we have sought to be. 
 Every fact from History has been drawn from 
 original and contemporary resources. The dates 
 of the passage of some of the events have, it 
 is true, been altered, in order to allow the selected 
 incidents to be crowded within the limited 
 space offered by these volumes ; but this slight 
 deviation from historic truth will be easily rec- 
 tified in the minds of our readers, and, we hope, 
 without drawing down upon us their censure. 
 We have laboured to the best of our power, as 
 diligent, albeit modest, workmen, to render unto
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 our readers an interesting romance, founded in 
 great part upon Fact ; while, at the same time, 
 we have endeavoured to reproduce a vivid and 
 actual picture of the times, the people, and the 
 manners amid which the action is presumed to 
 have taken place. How far we have succeeded, 
 or how far we have failed, it is not in our pro- 
 vince to hazard an opinion. 
 
 In the era whereof we have written, a vast 
 change was on the eve of taking place in 
 England. The well-beaten paths trodden by 
 the footsteps of centuries were being uprooted. 
 Old things were passing away — the faith and 
 life of ages gone were dissolving like the unsub- 
 stantial pageantry of a dream. Chivalry was 
 beginning to expire ; while the feudal castle, as 
 well as the peaceful monastery, was doomed to 
 destruction. All the manners, customs, beliefs, 
 convictions, and desires of the past, were fleeing 
 before the advent of those heralding the future. 
 
 The change, then, in its primary throes,
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 has long since been fully perfected, and be- 
 tween us and the England of the Middle 
 Ages there lies a gulf of mystery and pro- 
 fundity which the prose of the Historian, or the 
 fancy of the Romancer, can never satisfactorily 
 rebridge. Those feudal days, and those feudal 
 organizations cannot unite with us, nor can our 
 imagination clearly penetrate back to them. 
 
 Although it does not become the writers of 
 a great nation to indulge in bluster or rhodo- 
 montade, yet there can be no urgent reason 
 why they should smother their convictions, 
 and stifle every sense of right and justice. 
 Moreover, it is neither discreet nor just to 
 blame lightly sentiments and conduct that 
 arose in the midst of events which are, and 
 indeed only can be, imperfectly understood in 
 modern times. 
 
 We are, let us be thankful, outliving the gross 
 prejudices w^hich in a bygone age represented 
 monastic Hfe as being from end to end an 
 
 A 2
 
 Vi PREFACE. 
 
 existence of laziness, dissoluteness, and impos- 
 ture. In this age we acknowledge that, but 
 for 'the Monks of old,' the glorious hghts of 
 Liberty, Literature, and Science, which awoke 
 anew the world, as of old Sol did Chaos, might 
 have remained for ever dead and unnur- 
 tured. And further must we testify, that, but 
 for them and their cloistral homes during more 
 than six centuries, there would have existed 
 no safe haven for the devout, the gentle, the 
 thoughtful, and the oppressed, throughout the 
 length and breadth of the land. 
 
 We have, therefore, earnestly endeavoured to 
 write without bias of 'the Monks of old,' 
 behoving that in a narrative such as this the 
 sujjpressio veri would be scarce a step removed 
 from the suggestio falsi. So that, while showing 
 that the monkish calHng was upheld by its 
 doctrinals as ' a medicine for life and immor- 
 tality,' we have endeavoured to test that prin- 
 ciple by exhibiting in the course of this chronicle
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 somewhat of their internal economy, and of 
 their obsolete manners and customs. Adding 
 thereto — 
 
 " Old legends of tlie monkish page, 
 Traditions of tlie saint and sage, 
 Tales ttat have the rime of age. 
 
 And ckronicles of old." 
 
 It is, however, no loving, lingering picture — 
 which to the devout ascetic of antiquity proved 
 so oft the perfection of earthly bhss — we have 
 thus indited ; but it is an attempt to render 
 a vivid account of cloistral existence, when 
 Monachism, after being anchored for more than 
 one thousand years in the great stream of 
 Time, was in danger of shipwreck and utter 
 ruin. 
 
 In order to complete, so far as it was possible 
 within Hmits thus prescribed, and not to inter- 
 pose too formidably upon the thread of the
 
 VIU PREFACE. 
 
 romance, we have in the Appendix added a 
 short account of the offices, customs, duties 
 merits, and shortcomings of ' the Monks of 
 old,^ combined with an analytical survey of 
 their homes within the Metropolis. 
 
 To those of our readers who will open these 
 volumes merely for the sake of the romance, we 
 have this to say — that they will find two volumes 
 out of the three devoted to their especial delec- 
 tation ; while the other volume they must be 
 content to leave us for the gratification of our 
 ambition. Having hinted thus much, they will 
 be prepared, no doubt, to skip such parts as are 
 unsuited to their tastes. 
 
 A word for some of our characters. 
 
 Of Prior Struddel, the last lord Prior of the 
 Black Friars, we have written only as such a 
 monastic patriarch deserved ; while in contrast 
 to him we have drawn a purely imaginary 
 character in Dan Theodulph, the Sub-prior, and
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 in representing him as a man of mystery- and 
 crime — the great archimage of the Evil One — 
 a Moloch-fiend of Passion and Guilt. 
 
 The short biographies, together with the 
 characters of the " Maid of Kent '' and the " Last 
 of the Plantagenets," are no mere romantic 
 fables or romancer's legends. They are founded 
 on fact, and both form a portion, though a small 
 one, of the ancient history of this country. Of 
 the former much is already known ; may we 
 hope we have added something new ? Of the 
 latter but little hath been brought forward to 
 satiate public curiosity, and therefore, to most 
 of our readers, save those who are antiquarians 
 — and whose frowns and scorn we much fear 
 we are thus too boldly challenging — the in- 
 formation conveyed will be novel, and we trust 
 interesting. 
 
 Raimond Verstegans is, of course, a purely 
 ideal personage, albeit we have sought to make 
 him a Magian of no common kind, with a
 
 X PEEFACE. 
 
 chilling mystery of mien, while possessing rare 
 phenomena in incantation — a spirit, perchance, 
 resembling Virgilius, the ancient enchanter of 
 Rome. 
 
 The monstrous crimes of earlier ages may, it 
 is thought, find mercy in consideration of the 
 pollution and darkness of the moral atmosphere 
 in which men lived and sinned. But for all 
 that, nothing can restrain us from execrating 
 the crowned Despot — the throned wretch, who 
 at all times permitted his brutal passions to 
 have full sway, who was at all seasons of his 
 reign blind to the broad blaze of Christian 
 civihzation, and who trampled on his species 
 and grew saturate with the best blood of 
 patriotism and freedom. The ineffaceable blood 
 spilt by the bloated tyrant, Henry the Eighth, 
 still darkens Heaven and Earth with its ever- 
 lasting testimony. 
 
 Of Thomas Cromwell need we preface nothing, 
 since his memory still Kves in the hearts of a
 
 PEEFACE. XI 
 
 grateful posterity. The other characters speak 
 for themselves — some all fact, others purely 
 fiction They enter and exit upon the divers 
 scenes of our Romantic Drama to the intent 
 that it may be as pleasant, tuneful, and inter- 
 esting as of old were the legendary histories 
 of Mitridate and Alessandro. 
 
 Having oflfered this explanation, and now 
 that we have completed our task, we must 
 confess to feeling confounded and humiliated at 
 the transparent worthlessness of our labours in 
 regard to History, or compared with the re- 
 search and toil it has cost us, and above all in 
 comparison with the ideal we had imaged 
 ere we commenced. But, although a just 
 conviction of our shortcomings prevented our 
 aspiring to write a work purely of history and 
 edification, we yet trust that all we have 
 written may not sink for naught in the 
 great waters of condemned oblivion. Indeed, 
 we have some slight hope that this our latest
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 fondling may not turn out badly, and that 
 Dryden's lines — 
 
 '' Man's life is all a mist, and in the dark 
 Our fortunes meet us," 
 
 may, in this instance, receive a verification.
 
 BLACKFRIAR8; 
 
 THE MONKS OF O LD 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 ^t gbnlis of ©lb— Cljrir |atriartljs attb fotdimt, 
 
 TN the appendix subjoined to these volumes, 
 the author has given, for the edification and 
 delectation of those who may covet the informa- 
 tion, some descriptive details of " the Monks 
 of Old," combined with a short analytical sur- 
 vey of their homes within the metropolitan 
 district. In order, therefore, to complete his 
 sketch, it only remains for him in this chapter
 
 2 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 to render to his readers, by way of introduction, 
 some more precise information respecting those 
 cenobites among whom he has laid the principal 
 scenes of the following romance. 
 
 In referring, however cursorily, to the dif- 
 ferent orders of the patriarchs of these monks 
 of old, precedence must be given to the founders, 
 after whom mention will be made of the mar- 
 tyrs, then of the royal saints, and lastly of the 
 canonized saints of both sexes, giving rank 
 according to their celebrity and popularity. 
 From the following list, then, have sprung all 
 the acknowledged orders of cloistral devotees 
 who have ever yoked themselves together in 
 religious brotherhood. 
 
 First. — St. Benedict, who is the general 
 patriarch of all the Benedictine communities ; 
 and under whom rank St. Romnaldo, founder 
 of the Camaldolesi ; St. John Gualberto, founder 
 of the Vallambrosians ; St. Parmo, founder of 
 the Carthusians, and St. Bernard, founder of 
 the Cistercians, the latter of whom were 
 accustomed, most monotonously and most
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 8 
 
 incessantly, to utter the sentences — " Frere il 
 faut mourir /"' — " Helas mourir il faut /" 
 
 Second. — St. Augustine, of Hippo, the general 
 patriarch of all Augustine coiumunities ; and 
 under whom rank St. Philip Benozzi, founder of 
 the Servi; St. Peter Nolasco, founder of the 
 Order of Mercy; St. Bridget, of Sweden, 
 founder of the Brigittines, and St. Joseph, a 
 patiiai'ch and general patron of the Aug-ustines. 
 
 Third. — St. Francis, the general patriarch of 
 the Franciscans, Capuchins, Observants, Con- 
 ventuals, Minimes and other orders ; and under 
 whom rank St. Dominick, founder of the Do- 
 minicans, or preaching friars ; St. Albert, of 
 Vercelli, founder of the Carmelites ; St. Jerome, 
 founder of the Jeronymites, and St. Ignatius 
 Loyola, founder of the Jesuits. 
 
 Of these last, the Franciscans, the Domini- 
 cans and the Carmelites, were the three gTeat 
 mendicant orders, and sprang into existence 
 nearly simultaneously in the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century. The Franciscans and Do- 
 minicans were from the first to have a different 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 destination from every other order.* They were, 
 as it may be termed, the spiritual democrats ; 
 they were to mingle with the people, yet without 
 being of the people ; they were to take cogni- 
 zance of all private and public affairs, of all 
 those domestic concerns and sympathies, duties 
 and pleasures from which their vows cut them 
 off. They were to possess nothing they could 
 call their own, either as a body or individually. 
 They were to beg from their fellow- Christians 
 food and raiment — such, at least, was their 
 original rule, a rule soon modified, as we shall 
 show. Their creative vocation was to look after 
 the stray sheep of the fold of Christ, to pray 
 with those who prayed, to weep with those who 
 wept, to preach glad tidings, to exhort to 
 repentance, to rebuke sin and Satan, to advise 
 the doubtful and comfort the weak, without dis- 
 tinction of place or person. The privilege ol 
 ministering in the offices of the Church was 
 not theirs at first, but was, ere long, con- 
 
 * Curzon's Monasteries of the Levant.
 
 • OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 5 
 
 ceded. They at first practised all the strata- 
 gems of itinerancy, preaching in the public 
 streets, and administering the Eucharist, or 
 Communion, on a portable altar. They were 
 not to be called padri — fathers, but fratri — 
 brothers, of all men; and, when the Dominicans 
 assumed the title of Fratri Predicatori — Preach- 
 ing Brothers, — Francis, in his humility, is said to 
 have at once styled his community Fratri minori, 
 Freres mineurs — Minorites, or Lesser Brothers. 
 In England, from the colour of their habits, 
 these twin orders, in course of time, came to be 
 designated the Black Friars and the Grey Friai's, 
 names which they have bequeathed, as is well 
 known, to certain districts in London, familiar 
 to us all, even in the present day. 
 
 The mendicant orders were by far the most 
 popular ; and of these the Dominicans were, as a 
 body, the most learned and energetic. Their 
 greatest canonized saints were men who had 
 raised themselves to eminence by learning, by 
 eloquence, by vigorous intellect and resolute 
 action. Of such were St. Dominick, the founder
 
 6 
 
 — St. Peter Martyr — St. Thomas Aquinas, the 
 angehc doctor of laws — St. Raymond — St. 
 Antonio, the good archbishop of Florence — 
 St. Catherine of Sienna — St. Peter Gonzalez — 
 St. Pius, Pope Pius the Fifth — and St. Vincent 
 Ferraris. St. Dominick was born at Calagara, 
 in the diocese of Osma, in the kingdom of 
 Castile, in the year IIGO.^ Both his father 
 and mother were of noble birth. He originated 
 the Rosary, and instituted the " Third Order of 
 Penitence." He died at Bologna in 1221, and 
 was canonized by Gregory the Ninth, in 1223. 
 Friar Bacon, the Doctor Mirabilis, or Wonderful 
 Doctor, who first lighted the torch of science, 
 nigh six hundred years ago, was a Franciscan. 
 The Dominicans, out of their body, produced 
 two of the greatest painters of their day, and 
 indeed of many ages, Angelico da Fiesole and 
 Bartolomeo della Porta, whose paintings remain 
 to the present age the delight and wonder of 
 the civilized world. Of this order Sir James 
 
 Legends of the IMonastic Orders.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 7 
 
 Stephen writes : — " In an age of oligarchal 
 tp-anny they were the protectors of the weak, 
 in an age of ignorance the instructors of man- 
 kind, and in an age of profligacy the stern 
 vindicators of the hohness of the sacerdotal 
 character, and the virtues of domestic hfe:" 
 
 Though professing poverty — " the dame to 
 whom none openeth pleasure's gate, more than 
 to death " — and originally ordained to it, they 
 felt few of its evils, for every one gave of their 
 substance to them. Faustus, the countrjiiian, 
 is made to say — 
 
 *' We give wool and cliese, our wives coyne and egges, 
 AVlien freres flatter and praise^their proper legges." 
 
 While a little further on he adds — 
 
 " Phillis gave coyne because lie did her charme, 
 Ever sith that time lesse hath she felt of harme." 
 
 Speed remarks, that eveiy householder paid 
 to each of the five orders of friars one penny 
 per quarter, the amount of which contribution, 
 being X'43,333 6s. 8d. per annum, was equal to
 
 8 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 a fourth of the gross revenues of all the other 
 religious orders, as set forth by that author. 
 But still they, for the most part, affected 
 poverty, if they did not suffer it. They sought 
 to imitate the rare ensamples of Elisha and 
 Elias; whom they asserted were friars and poor 
 preachers such as they. 
 
 The habit of the Dominicans was a white 
 woollen gown, fastened round the waist with a 
 white girdle, over which lay a white scapular — 
 a piece of cloth hanging down from the neck to 
 the feet, like a long apron before and behind ; — 
 while over all was worn a black cloak with long 
 sleeves and a hood. The white in this habit 
 was intended to denote purity of life ; the black, 
 mortification and penance. It was alleged to 
 have been selected by the Blessed Virgin herself, 
 in a vision to one of the brethren — a monk of 
 Orleans."^ 
 
 In the early part of the century succeeding 
 their institution, the Dominicans and Francis- 
 
 * Legends of the Mocastic Orders.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 9 
 
 cans, perceiving they would be more respected, 
 and possess greater power, if they owned less 
 poverty and exhibited less humility, renounced 
 their more lowly estate and appearance, in- 
 ducted sweeping innovations into their dwelling- 
 places and style of living, and in most respects 
 closely assimilated themselves to the other great 
 orders in the temples of pride and wealth. 
 
 The sanctuaries to which these remodelled 
 holy mendicants retreated were each a miniature 
 Goshen, enjoying the calm light of peace and 
 immunity amid a scene of general confusion, 
 blood, and unremitted outrage in the world 
 beyond their cloistral walls. They thereafter 
 became so popular that many exceptional in- 
 dulgences were granted by the Church of Kome. 
 For instance, they were exempted from all 
 episcopal authority, were permitted to preach or 
 hear confessions without leave of the ordinary, 
 to accept legacies and to inter in their chmxhes. 
 Pope Boniface the Eighth, in the year 1295, 
 fully and peremptorily established these privi- 
 leges. As a sequence, both Dominicans and 
 
 B 3
 
 10 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 Franciscans vied with each other in lauding and 
 magnifying the papal power and supremacy.^ 
 
 It may be here generally asserted that mon- 
 astic institutions and monastic buildings, like 
 unto Koman temples, were erected and endowed 
 by the gifts of the rich and noble, and, though 
 more seldom, by the alms of the people, and 
 the subtraction of a portion of the revenues 
 originally intended to have been devoted to very 
 different purposes. 
 
 * Hallam's Middle Ages.
 
 OR, THE M0:N^KS OF OLD. 11. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ^HOUGH not among the wealthiest or the 
 most ancient of the London monasteries, 
 yet that of the Dominican Preachers, or Black 
 Friars, or Friar Preachers, as they were variously 
 designated, in point of size, influence, patron- 
 age and public repute, ranked second to none — 
 not even to the vastly endowed abbey at West- 
 minister. Indeed, it does most clearly appear 
 that not only did it possess in the aggregate all 
 the various and numerous charters, privileges 
 and immunities gi'anted individually to other 
 religious communities, but had, during succes- 
 sive reigns, acquired many special and excep- 
 tional ones. This House, saith the chronicler,* 
 
 * St owe.
 
 12 BLACKFKtARS ; 
 
 was " of the fee of St. Jolmne, and thereby 
 greathe privileged." Its revenues at the disso- 
 lution are stated by Dugdale to have amounted 
 only to the small sum of JCIOO 15s. 5d., and by 
 Maitland to ^104. Whence these learned his- 
 torians derived their information I cannot divine, 
 but the statement is an evident and preposterous 
 mistake. It is altogether incredible that a 
 monastery so rarely endowed and favoured, so 
 royally and specially patronized from its very 
 foundation, with its immense precincts of thickly 
 studded dwellings, more than fully occupied — as 
 one account gives it, "a complete city of itself" 
 — no doubt paying considerable tithe or rent, 
 should possess an income so ridiculously small, 
 so inadequate for the due performance of the 
 high duties and important obligations enforced 
 upon it, as that stated by the historian. As 
 some evidence of far greater revenue and 
 wealth, we proceed to quote a passage from an 
 argument used by the occupiers of property 
 within the precincts of the Black Friars in a sub- 
 sequent reign, in their answer to certain claims
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 13 
 
 made bv the citizens of London : — " Her Ma- 
 jesty"^ may loose ten thousand pounds in a day 
 by lands within the said precincts which may 
 escheat to her, which, if the Citie will have, it is 
 reason the Citie should give her Majesty a good 
 fyne for it/'f We are led to suppose, by this 
 and divers other passages, that the limited 
 rental above quoted referred to and included 
 that portion of the revenues only which lay 
 without the monastic walls. We are more in- 
 duced to suppose such to have been the case by 
 having studied certain other chronicles, wherein 
 we learn that this House possessed land in Old- 
 bourne, where, indeed, it was first founded, and 
 also at Whitehall, including the original palace 
 built by Hubert de Burgh, the Lord High Justi- 
 ciary of England during the reign of Henry 
 HI., who bequeathed it to the Black Friars, 
 and from both of which properties, no doubt, 
 some annual return was had and received. The 
 fi'iars, it is true, subsequently sold the palace 
 
 * Queen Elizabeth. f Maitland, vol. ii., p. 952.
 
 14 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 at Whitehall to Walter de Grey, the then 
 Archbishop of York. From other accounts 
 it may be gathered, that the monastery was en- 
 dowed with several additional manors in the 
 metropolitan counties. An old historian speaks 
 of this monastery as " the massive buildings 
 with luxuriant gardens of the Black or Preach- 
 ing Friars, a vast and wealthy House." 
 
 The above-named Hubert de Burgh was not 
 only a great benefactor to, but was the original 
 founder of this great monastery ; for, in the year 
 1242, he made over to the friars a house and 
 extensive grounds, at the top of Chancery Lane 
 in Old-bourne — part of the original site of Lin- 
 coln's Inn, and whereon subsequently were 
 erected the mansions of the Bishop of Chi- 
 chester and the Earl of Lincoln — where, for a 
 third of a century, they lived and prospered so 
 well, that at the determination of that period, 
 the increased and increasing number of the 
 brotherhood requmng much greater accommo- 
 dation, they left the above locality, and migrated 
 to a more expansive plot of land, adjoining Lud-
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 15 
 
 gate, and just within the city's embattled 
 walls. 
 
 In the year 1276 ''the Mayor and Barons," 
 as we read, " of the Citie of London, granted 
 and gifted to one Robert Kilwarby, Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, two lanes, or ways," next the 
 street then known as Barnai'd Castle, together 
 with the Tower of Montsichet," in addition to 
 certain land and houses already acquired in the 
 neighbourhood by the friars. Whereupon, it 
 would appear, Robert Kilwarby, who was an 
 enthusiastic supporter of the religious communi- 
 ties, erected, " at great cost of time and means," 
 a noble church, together with an extensive 
 range of monachal buildings — in all, " a stately 
 new priorie." Herein, with suitable grace and 
 ceremony, he inducted the Black Friars, and 
 refounded their monastery. 
 
 It was at this period that royalty first took 
 these Dominicans by the hand, when Edward 
 the Confessor and Eleanor his queen most 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Note 1.
 
 16 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 rarely enriched their noble church, and bestowed 
 upon the order many unprecedented benefac- 
 tions. By some historians this royal pair are 
 reputed to have been the refounders, but that 
 view is not borne out by the antique testimony 
 we have at command. 
 
 Archbishop Kilwarby, the refounder, as we 
 assert, acting under the powers of the grant 
 from the civic authorities, pulled down a con- 
 siderable portion of the city wall facing the 
 west, as well also the ancient castle of Mont- 
 sichet, and with the stones and materials thus 
 obtained laid the foundations of the new 
 monastery. The king, Edward the First, sanc- 
 tioned the encroachment, and subsequently, by 
 order in council, directed the city authorities, at 
 their cost, to rebuild the wall further to the 
 west, and to add to it, at its junction with the 
 Thames, a tower with stairs for his own special 
 accommodation on his periodical visitations by 
 water to the monastery. =^ Their indulgent 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Note 2.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 17 
 
 benefactor stopped not here ; for we read that 
 one Thomas De Bastings, of London, surren- 
 dered unto King Edward I. a messuage next to 
 Baynard's Castle,* the which, together with the 
 same large and important castle, the said king 
 did grant to the prior and friars, to the enlarge- 
 ment of their house, to hold of the said king 
 and his hens. He further gi^anted unto them 
 all the tenements and houses that came to him 
 from the surrender of one Wilham Dale, for the 
 like purpose. He also gave them permission 
 to bring their water by conduit through Smith- 
 fields unto their precincts, and in the course 
 of years conferred many other additional 
 benefits. 
 
 Edward the Second followed ^ the footsteps 
 of his royal sire, in openly and peculiarly 
 patronizing this monastery ; for he granted unto 
 the prior a messuage, called Okeborne, in the 
 wai'd of Ba}Tiard's Castle, for the further en- 
 lai'gement of their house, and confirmed all 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Xote 3.
 
 18 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 previous grants and privileges.! He further 
 granted to the entire precincts special immuni- 
 ties from tenths, fifteenths, subsidies, quotas, 
 tallages, or other burthens whatsoever. He 
 also issued his mandate to the citizens to com- 
 plete the city wall, ordered by his father to be 
 reinstated by them. And further, he granted 
 to the prior and friars preachers that they 
 should hold all the tenements within the pre- 
 cincts bounding the same. 
 
 In subsequent reigns the Black Friars re- 
 ceived further grants and yet additional immu- 
 nities ; while in that of Henry the Sixth the 
 monastery was incorporated by Act of Parlia- 
 ment, "whereby they might prescribe, and did 
 always use and keep the liberty inviolately and 
 clearly exempted from the citizens." 
 
 Within the chapter house the ancient kings 
 of the land had their records and charters 
 lodged for security, as well as within the tower 
 fortress of London, and other strong castles in 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Note 4.
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 19 
 
 England. This appears by a patent, passed 
 during the sixteenth year of the second Edward's 
 reign.* 
 
 Within the vast and handsome chui'ch of this 
 monastery, or, as was most probable, within the 
 large chapter house just referred to, several 
 parliaments and public meetings were held. 
 One of the former was commenced at West- 
 minster in the year 1450, during Henry the 
 Sixth's reigii, and afterwards adjourned thither. 
 Another was opened there on the 15th April, 
 1524, wherein was demanded a subsidy of 
 ^800,000, to be raised from goods and chattels, 
 after the rate of four shillings in the pound, for 
 the use of the king, Henry the Eighth. This 
 parliament was subsequently adjourned to West- 
 minster Abbey, amid the black monks there, 
 and was thereupon styled and known as the 
 " Black Parliament." Within these august and 
 time-honoured walls, in the year 1529, Cardinal 
 Campeius, with Cardinal Wolsey, opened in set 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Note 5.
 
 -20 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 form and great state the too celebrated Court of 
 Divorce, and where, before these twin ecclesi- 
 astics and judges, were summoned and appeared 
 King Henry VIII. and Queen Catharine, while 
 the validity of their marriage w^as called in 
 question and formally tested. Many and oft, in 
 tedious succession, and over a weary space of 
 time, were the adjournments and meetings of 
 this high court of informal judiciary. In the 
 month of October, in the same year, assembled 
 a parliament in Black Friars, in which the great 
 cardinal and lawgiver himself was condemned 
 in the premunire, for that he had, contrary to 
 the statute of provisors, exercised legatine 
 authority in England. Of certain other inci- 
 dents which history connects with this extensive 
 and celebrated monastery, w^e shall hereafter 
 make mention, as this veracious history 
 advances. 
 
 However, in this place, as further evidence of 
 the power, size and importance of this house of 
 the Black Friars, we must refer to events which 
 took place in later times than ai'e cotemporary
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 21 
 
 with our chronicle. The Hberties, as the exten- 
 sive precincts within the monastery walls were 
 styled, became, shortly before the dissolution of 
 the large rehgious houses, the most fashionably 
 patronized and inhabited quarter of London, 
 wherein resided, for many years, the highest 
 and the wealthiest among the nobility and 
 gentry. Indeed, in the great legal contest 
 which took place subsequently between the city 
 authorities and the owners and occupiers of pro- 
 perty within the liberties, wherein the former 
 sought to claim supreme power and arbitrament 
 over the entire precincts, as being within the 
 city walls, but wherein they failed again, as oft 
 aforetime they had done, it was zealously urged, 
 in the fau'ly conceived answers of the latter 
 against the numerous reiterated plaints of their 
 opponents, tliat " the Blackfriars, for good order 
 of government, may be a lanthorne to all the 
 city, as shall be plainlie proved, and is now in- 
 habited by noblemen and gentlemen." 
 
 Another authority says, " In Queen Eliza- 
 beth's time this Black Friars was much inha-
 
 22 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 bited by noblemen and gentlemen as before. 
 For tlie spaciousness of it, parliaments often 
 sat there, and noble personages were there 
 harboured."* 
 
 Even after the dissolution, and for a con- 
 siderable period, too, the city authorities were 
 unable to obtain their long and eagerly coveted 
 dominion over these peculiarly favoured and 
 exempt precincts ; for we read that immediately 
 thereafter the Mayor again asserted his title 
 to the liberties, the which the king being 
 informed of, sent to him, commanding him to 
 desist from all exercise of authority or inter- 
 meddling therein, asserting that--" He was as 
 well able to keep the liberties as the friars 
 were." So the citizens and their rulers were 
 forced to postpone for a still further period 
 their claim of authority and administration over 
 these intruding precincts ; while, during the 
 remainder of Henry the Eighth's reign. Sir John 
 Portynarie kept the keys of the fom* gates lead- 
 
 * Maitland, vol. ii., p. 951.
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 23 
 
 ing through the monasteiy walls into the 
 liberties, receiving a fee for the office. 
 
 Though during the zenith of their power and 
 prosperity, the prior, friars and dwellers within 
 these privileged precincts owned no foreign 
 authority, and submitted to no hostile inter- 
 ference, not even to the extent of permitting 
 the slightest recognition of extramural power 
 even of the highest, were it judicial, clerical, or 
 lay, yet did they ever possess within their 
 walled sovereignty all the essentials necessaiy 
 in those more primitive times for good govern- 
 ance, and for the triumphal maintenance of 
 security, liberty, and right. Porters of recog- 
 nized trust and strength, specially selected 
 from the lay-brethren, with worthy helpmates, 
 kept ever constant watch and ward within the 
 tower-structures which overlapped and sur- 
 mounted each of the four great gateways of the 
 convent walls, who were strictly enjoined to 
 communicate immediately to the prior, or other 
 authoritive official, the anival of any suspi- 
 cious or disorderly person within the precincts,
 
 24 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 or on the happening of any disturbance within 
 their ken or district. A code of bye-laws were 
 made and rigidly enforced by certain judiciary 
 officials appointed for the purpose, for the 
 proper discipline and government of the large 
 and numerously inhabited lay district of their 
 monachal demesne, which district we shall 
 hereafter, for convenience, style " The Wilder- 
 ness," bethinking such a designation fairly 
 appropriate. Though the sanctuary so regally 
 bestowed, and so prominently recognized, was 
 fairly upheld against all power and authority 
 other than their own, yet within their walls 
 these good friars administered justice and 
 punishment after a fair and impartial spirit, as 
 we are informed, albeit the latter was of a 
 milder kind than was bestowed beyond their 
 jurisdiction. 
 
 The citizens of London, through their civic 
 authorities, struggled long for then- much- 
 coveted dominion over the precincts of the 
 Black Friars, incited thereto by the manifold 
 inconveniences which they endured through its
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 25 
 
 long- continued freedom ; and in Queen Mary's 
 reign we find the council of the city bringing a 
 bill into Parliament, prajdng for the authority 
 they so long had coveted over these liberties ; 
 but with such favour, even at so much later a 
 period, were the special privileges of this 
 favoured district viewed, that we read that " no 
 division was taken on the merits of the bill, 
 which was suppressed by agreement openly in 
 the House."''' 
 
 So strong and formidable were the walls 
 which surrounded this august monastery, that 
 it was, during Queen Elizabeth's reign, strongly 
 ui-ged, and with a fair show of reason, against 
 the arguments and proofs re-adduced on behalf 
 of the civic authorities, who once again renewed 
 their claim, that, "if London should at any 
 tyme rebell, her Majestie should lose two places 
 of strength " — refening to another enwalled 
 monastery and sanctuaiy at Whitehws — "to 
 bestow her force in their own bosome to annoy 
 
 * IMaitland. vol ii., p. 95-4.
 
 26 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 them, wliich now by walls ys shut from them, 
 and she hath by keeping the liberties." To 
 which is somewhat subtly appended, " They 
 pretend to wyn favor to their cawse, that they 
 seek their liberties onelie for reformation, when 
 gain ys the mark they shoot at." 
 
 It would appear that, throughout the existence 
 of this large religious community, though con- 
 tentions at various intervals arose through the 
 clashing of the rival ambition and powers of the 
 Black Fiiars and the civic authorities, resulting, 
 as we have shown they ever did, in the triumph 
 of the clerical and the discomfiture of the civil 
 body, the prior and brethren ever bowed hum- 
 bly and implicitly to the mandates and wishes 
 of Royalty, and with judicious cause and reason, 
 seeing how from the very outset it had proved 
 itself their chief patron and strongest partizan, 
 until these adverse days whereof we write, 
 wherein the sensual, avaricious tyrant, who then 
 sat upon the throne, appeared never better 
 pleased than when preparing and enforcing 
 inroads upon the wealth, prosperity, and very
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 27 
 
 life of the doomed religious houses throughout 
 England. 
 
 Within the walls surrounding this monastery, 
 not only stood the church and usual monachal 
 buildings, but, as will have been already under- 
 stood, a large district appropriated to a lay 
 community, who sought and enjoyed the high 
 privilege of sanctuary. For unto this house, as 
 well as unto those of the more wealthy at West- 
 minster, and less honoured at Whitefriars and 
 certain other districts, known as Mitre Court, 
 Salisbury Court, Eam Alley, Baldwin's Gardens, 
 the Minories, the Clink, and the Mint, were 
 given this great and important, albeit much 
 misused liberty, which few dared to encroach 
 upon, and none succeeded in desecrating. 
 Within this privileged lay district, in the 
 height of the convent's power and prosperity, 
 during the earlier part of the eighth Henry's 
 reign, everything essential to the support and 
 well-being of a lai'ge community was to be 
 found, while every description of trade and 
 artifice was carried on after a very prosperous 
 
 c 2
 
 28 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 fashion. The Uberty of sanctuary, in this 
 monastery, was, it appears, observed to high 
 excess ; for^ not only were all debtors fleeing 
 thither free from arrest and interference, but 
 misdemeanants, and even felons, found there 
 a safe asylum from retributive justice and 
 righteous punishment, though great and har- 
 dened criminals were liable to be arraigned 
 before the prior and his officials, and by them, 
 if so they willed it, ordered punishment, or 
 handed over to civil jurisdiction. But the latter 
 exercise of authority on the part of the friars 
 was rarely attempted, so much was the privilege 
 of sanctuary respected. 
 
 The dwellers within the precincts of The 
 Wilderness were free of all city imposts and 
 charges, and were never, as was then the 
 custom within the city boundaries, called upon 
 to watch or ward for the safety or good order of 
 the city, although the authorities thereof had, 
 however, as we have shown, made many fruit- 
 less attempts at coercion. 
 
 It would appear that some of the citizens of
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 29 
 
 London, who followed trades similar to those 
 pm*sued within the Wilderness of the Black 
 Friai's, had good cause of grievance and for 
 complaint. For the ai'tificers within the 
 monastery precincts, in consequence of the 
 exemptions they enjoyed, were enabled to 
 undersell, to a considerable extent, their more 
 burthened brethren of the city ; and, moreover, 
 as it was avouched, in consequence of the pro- 
 tective espionage of the city trade seai'chers, to 
 which the latter were subjected, they were not 
 able to compete with the former, forasmuch as 
 the sanctuary-men could defraud buyers with 
 impunity by passing otf upon them inferior 
 commodities. 
 
 We may sum up this general disquisition 
 upon the bu'th, gi'owth, and worldly condition 
 of the Black Friars, by asserting, from the 
 evidences we have at command, that in those 
 iron ages, when, with rope and faggot, fire and 
 sword, the virulent piety of even good men 
 sought to enforce the precepts of Him whose 
 advent was proclaimed in the angelic hymn of
 
 30 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 " Peace on earth and good will towards men/* 
 the monastery of the friar preachers in London, 
 taken as a whole, was perchance the best 
 ordered in England. The discipline was honest 
 and careful, the charities were profuse, the 
 hospitality without stain, and its popularity 
 historically notorious; and whatever we may 
 feel inclined to think of the pious harlotry of 
 monachism, and the absurd and childish func- 
 tions with which it was enveloped, we may yet 
 be just to this small section of "The monks of 
 old," who lived in the heart of our ancient 
 metropolis, and believe that they, at least, were 
 true to their vows, and honest in their duties, 
 so far at least as they were capable of under- 
 standing the vows they adopted, or of compre- 
 hending what duty meant.
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 C|c P^miasttrg aab- its ^rttincts. 
 
 j|3Y an old and somewhat illegible plan of 
 ancient London, the walls of the monastery 
 of the Black Friars can be discerned encu'cling 
 a district of considerable extent. On the west 
 the city walls are to be traced running along 
 the ferny banks of the then salubrious waters of 
 the silvery Fleet, while, just within them, a 
 narrow stone causeway, leading from the Lud- 
 gate to the Tower-stairs beside the Thames, 
 erected as we have mentioned for the conve- 
 nience of royalty, presents itself to the inquiring 
 eye. Overlapping this causeway, and frowning 
 dimly upon it, uprose the lofty walls of the 
 monastery, leading in a direct line from the 
 river to a point within a few yards of Ludgate. 
 Thence they turned at a right angle eastwai'd,
 
 32 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 exhibiting a northern face upon a site within 
 fifty yards of the present Ludgate-hill. On this 
 side they presented a shghtly irregular Hne, in 
 consequence of the uneven surface of the ground, 
 until they reached Great Carter-lane, closely 
 verging on St. Paul's Churchyard, whence they 
 again receded in an oblique south-easterly 
 direction to within bowshot of the embattled 
 walls and lofty towers of Baynard's Castle ; while 
 on the south this extensive enclosure was com- 
 pleted by a raised shore-bank along the tidal 
 way of the Thames. The extent of ground thus 
 enwalled must have been fully equal to fourteen 
 or fifteen acres — a vast space, truly, to be 
 occupied by one range of buildings within the 
 then circumscribed city boundaries. 
 
 For convenience of ingress and egress, four 
 great gates pierced at different points this long 
 line of walls, each gate being surmounted by a 
 strong fortified tower, and an iron-bound port- 
 cullis, in addition to the massive gates, swung 
 beneath. One of these, the great fore-gate, was 
 styled " St. Johnnes," in honour of the patron
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 33 
 
 saint, and was in neighbourly propinquity to the 
 great city, Ludgate — named after a king Lud, 
 who lived and reigned, it is imagined, about 
 seventy years before the Christian era. A 
 second, the " Lesser Gate," faced the Old 
 Jewry ; a third, the " Hostel Gate," leading di- 
 rect to the Guest Chambers, opened on St. 
 Paul's Churchyard ; while the fourth, the 
 " Postern," faced the Tower-stairs of royalty on 
 the western side. There was still another open- 
 ing on the eastern side, which led by a swing- 
 gate direct into the great court of Baynard's 
 Castle. 
 
 The district thus so carefully enclosed was 
 subdivided by a wall of lesser dimensions, by 
 which the clerical buildings were separated from 
 the lay habitations of the Wilderness. The 
 latter was of great extent, and was again par- 
 titioned into divers closes, streets, alleys, and 
 places, bearing nomenclatures of peculiar sig- 
 nificance, furbished from traditional lore. The 
 Wilderness ranged southwards to . the river's 
 bank, and included all sorts of structures, both 
 
 3 c
 
 34 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 great and small, and in all the variety of tastes 
 and requirements which two centuries might 
 be supposed to have yielded. Long quaint 
 streets, full of old steep-roofed houses, built of 
 painted brick and carved wood, with scores of 
 little shops nestling beneath a superincumbent 
 and overhanging framework of habitations, 
 intersected each other in mazy profusion. The 
 exceeding narrowness of some of the ways, 
 which indeed in some instances were scarcely 
 wide enough to admit of two persons to walk 
 abreast, and were almost arched over by the 
 overhanging of the upper stories, gave a dark, 
 dismal, and disagreeable appearance to a large 
 portion of the Wilderness. Indeed, the whole 
 friary was a confined and gloomy aggregate of 
 buildings — mostly of quaint aspect, galleried 
 with projecting eaves and steep roofs — though 
 it had, secretly, as it were, beneath the fostering 
 care of monachism, risen into an unacknow- 
 ledged township of considerable and dangerous 
 importance. The diversified and picturesque 
 architecture of the many ancient and haggard
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 35 
 
 buildings therein assembled afforded, in its 
 contrast to the loftier located monasteiy, a 
 characteristic and fanciful picture. Old towers, 
 old belfiies, old crosses, fanciful minai'ets, and 
 sculptured chimneys, uprose amid a world of 
 quaint gables and angular roofs. Forasmuch 
 as the conventual buildings formed refugium 
 peccatorum — a refuge for sinners, so did these 
 long, narrow, and almost untraceable windings 
 become a refuge for thieves, murderers, forgers, 
 and miscreants of every hue, in conjunction 
 with more innocent debtors, artificers, and 
 tradesfolk. But naught of all those numerous 
 habitations can now be seen, — they are as un- 
 traceable as the marble palaces of Sodom and 
 Gomorrah, beneath the Dead Sea. 
 
 Beyond the chaotic confusion of these poorer 
 dwellings, arose several statelier mansions, be- 
 longing to the ennobled and wealthy portion of 
 this exempt community. These were of equally 
 quaint style and curious architecture. Story 
 above stoiy they sprang, uTegular yet homo- 
 geneous, dear to the painter's and the poet's
 
 36 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 eye, elaborate in ornament, though grotesque 
 in design, and uncouth in form, but withal 
 picturesque as the age itself, — in pleasing 
 unison with its manners, its costumes, its litera- 
 ture, and its laws. 
 
 Within the Wilderness, filled to overflowing as 
 it was with a teeming, busy, plotting population, 
 the high privilege of sanctuaiy was, as w^e have 
 already recorded, strictly observed and enforced. 
 The victory of the Church over the laity 
 throughout the era of the middle ages could 
 scarce have been more indisputably demon- 
 strated than by this close proximity of a moral 
 fortress — securing within her walls impunity 
 and protection to the most flagrant desecraters 
 of law and order — to the heart of a city boastful 
 alike of its power and wealth, and of the impar- 
 tial administration of law and order throughout 
 its length and breadth. The mightiest princes, 
 the most bloodthirsty tyrant, would have hesi- 
 tated ere they violated that asylum, which had 
 been, for ages past, offered indifferently to mis- 
 fortune and to guilt.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 3T 
 
 Passing from the confined atmosphere and 
 densely populated distiicts of the Wilderness, 
 we enter beneath the subdividing wall, through 
 a swing- gate in a porch f wherein at all seasons 
 sat a monk as custodian J, into the convent close, 
 where the smooth and well-kept turf gi^ew luxu- 
 riantly, shaded by druid oaks whose lofty stems 
 and broad branches almost rivalled the towering 
 and massive monastery itself, and perhaps in 
 effect its antiquity. Herein did the black-stoled 
 monks delight to wander, as they gazed with 
 fond devotion upon their famed and many- 
 gabled convent, or as they tui^ned the eye of 
 inquuy upon the busy seat of action within the 
 brain. 
 
 On the south, facing the Wilderness, was a 
 double -storied cloister of broad dimensions and 
 elaborate design — the lower separated from the 
 gi'een turf of the close by only a single step, and 
 round the caiwed pillars of which the vine and fig- 
 .tree encircled thek clustering arms — the upper 
 supported upon large fan' pillars of stone, arched 
 over with several arches, open in front with a
 
 38 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 carved rail and baluster. From the latter an 
 extensive view over the buildings of the adja- 
 cent sanctuary, across the broad and glistening 
 river, into a beautiful pastoral district over the 
 border, then studded with the small and plea- 
 sant villages and hamlets of Bermondsey, South- 
 wark, Walworth, Kennington, Camberwell, and 
 Vauxhall. This double cloister, wherein these 
 " monks of old " hymned grave canticles or 
 conned Holy Writ, stretched across the whole 
 of the close from the east to the west wall of 
 the precincts, while behind it uprose in massive 
 grandeur the numerous courts, the vast church, 
 the countless apartments, the world of offices, 
 which constituted the huge monastery of the 
 Black Friars — a petty town within itself. Yes, 
 there, amid all those towers, gables, domes, 
 arches, windows, balconies, weird bastions, 
 strange bell-turrets, and tiled roofs, were all the 
 belongings of an ancient convent of the largest 
 class — church, chapter-house, prior's and sub- 
 prior's lodgings, hostelry, almonry, cloisters, re- 
 fectory, dormitories, kitchen, locutoKa, infirmary.
 
 OR THE MONKS OF OLD. 39 
 
 scriptormm, exchequer, dungeons, and mills, 
 illustrating all many a page of medieval history, 
 and reflecting scenes which ever prompt, by turn, 
 wonder or pity, admu'ation or repugnance. Its 
 power, with the whole fabric of hooded super- 
 stition, was then fast fading, its influence rapidly 
 deca}ing, and its latter end drawing nigh. The 
 intolerable oppression of the feudal system, 
 which had for so many ages held men bound in 
 fetters of iron afihction, had been swept away by 
 a gory stream of patriotic blood. Britons had 
 ere that learnt the great lessons which led the 
 way to civil liberty and religious intelligence ; 
 and, though not perfect in the alphabetical in- 
 struction required by such profound subjects, 
 yet had great moral lessons been taught and 
 duly adopted, and the day was just dawning 
 when the ecclesiastical intolerance and des- 
 potism of the Church of Rome was rapidly 
 culminating to its last stupendous downfall. 
 That form and ceremonial which for so long 
 had overlaid and crushed out the energies of 
 spmtual religion, and that system which for a
 
 40 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 like period had appealed at every turn only to 
 the eye, preserving little which could waken up 
 the heart, were to be rooted out by that mighty 
 revolutionizer, the '* New Learning." 
 
 Passing under the two-storied cloister, we 
 enter a large quadrangle, and perceive, directly 
 facing us, the principal portico of the great 
 church, and the sacred edifice itself, with its 
 responders, or well-pillars, its gigantic but- 
 tresses, and its clusters of Gothic niches, con- 
 taining statuary, stretching along the whole side 
 in all its original imposing grandeur. Widely 
 famed was this noble structure, as well for its 
 external embellishments — the essential life and 
 poetry, as it were, of Gothic architecture — as 
 for the profuse splendour of its internal sculp- 
 turing and adornments, with its multitude of 
 white marble monuments of saints, kings, 
 nobles and warriors, sculptured, as saith the 
 chronicler, in such marvellous faithfulness as to 
 seem starting from their canopied niches into 
 life. Glorious and magnificent in the extreme 
 was this renowned church of the j^pular friar
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 41 
 
 preachers in the palmiest days of its existence ; 
 but, like the Gothic faith, of which it might be 
 accounted to have been an emblem, decay visited 
 it, ruthless Vandalism destroyed it, and time 
 has left no trace to mark its one time extensive 
 site and fruitfal existence. 
 
 Crowned with four square corner turrets of 
 considerable dimensions, each surmounted by 
 a symbolic vane, it possessed in addition a lai'ge 
 lantern-shaped central tower, proudly domi- 
 neering over the others, rising loftily upward 
 like a fountain, that, through some magian 
 influence, had of a sudden been petrified and 
 fixed there for ever, and " made with stone, of 
 excellent workmanship, curiously wrought, with 
 divers pinnacles at each corner, wherein were 
 hung twelve bells for chimage, and a clock with 
 chimes of sundry work." 
 
 Another side of the quadrangle was occupied 
 by the large chapter-house, a building of much 
 importance in the public ceremonial of the day, 
 as will hereafter be seen, and wherein the busi- 
 ness of the fyary was daily transacted, its justice
 
 42 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 administered, and its punishments awarded. In 
 reference to the latter, we may state in passing, 
 that the principal punishments consisted in 
 suspension from the table, and in being for- 
 bidden all intercourse with the brotherhood, 
 whilst others included severer penalties, such 
 as castigation, incarceration, and expulsion. 
 Over the principal entrance to this building was 
 a vast sun-dial, inlaid with brazen figures of the 
 apostles, and bearing on its lowest surface the 
 motto, " Horas non numero nisi serenas" 
 
 Over the chapter-house were the library, 
 filled with numberless rare manuscripts ; and 
 the scriptorium, commonly known as the writing 
 room, wherein, under the supervision of the 
 armarian, the industrious and learned of the 
 cowled brethren, designated the scriptores or 
 lihmrii, wrought upon and executed those 
 manuscripts which in their day made the nearest 
 approach to printing, and were, in reality, the 
 original precursors of that great art — an art 
 which has so blessed all subsequent genera- 
 tions — and to illuminate which, the most
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 43 
 
 famed painters of the age were constantly 
 employed. 
 
 On the other side of the quadrangle were the 
 prior's lodgings, a handsome range of sculp- 
 tured buildings, facing a pretty turfy garden, 
 rarely planted and cared for, with its clear lakelet 
 buried in a thick jungle of box, holHes, and 
 evergreens, overshadowed on the furthest side 
 by time-honoured willows. 
 
 Passing to the right, down the open cloister 
 and past the chapter-house, we enter another 
 quadrangle of somewhat lesser dimensions, 
 around the whole of which runs a second 
 cloister, or prolonged gallery, consisting of two 
 lines of arches uniting in a row of pillars run- 
 ning down the middle throughout its entire 
 length. On two sides of this space the stories 
 above are occupied by the dormitory, consisting 
 of two very lofty and spacious apartments, com- 
 municating with each other, wherein, in small 
 subdivisions slept the monks under the survey- 
 ance of the vigilarius. Over the doorway of 
 this department was inscribed St. Bernard's
 
 44 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 famous definition of conventual life, " Bonum 
 est nos,'' &c., which in plain English ran as 
 follows : — " Good is it for us to dwell here, 
 where man lives more purely, falls more rarety, 
 rises more quickly, treads more cautiously, rests 
 more securely, dies more happily, is absolved 
 more easily, and rewarded more plenteously " — 
 a colouring which suited well the " set grey life 
 and apathetic end" of these " monks of old." 
 
 The third side of the upper story of this 
 quadrangle was occupied by the refectory, an 
 apartment of the most spacious dimensions, 
 in keeping with the wide-spread hospitality 
 exercised by this and all the wealthier cenobiti- 
 cal institutions of England. Here at the hour 
 of dinner — ordinarily at noon, but on fasts and 
 festivals at three in the afternoon — the brethren 
 of the cassock and cowl partook of their repast, 
 and again met for morning collation and even- 
 ing consolatio. A vast table in the shape of a 
 cross stretched throughout the entire length of 
 this large vaulted hall, the upper or transverse 
 table was at meal-time usually occupied by the
 
 Oli, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 45 
 
 prior, sub-prior, chief officials, and guests, while 
 the lower board was besieged by the inferior 
 brethren, the novices, and lay brothers of this 
 great conventual foundation. In one comer of 
 this hall, and commanding a full view of all 
 who were recipients of the thrice-laid daily 
 repasts, was a small stone gallery or pulpit, 
 from which, during meal-time, a properly de- 
 puted monk, called the lecturer, read selected 
 passages of the Scriptures, with a running 
 commentaiy thereon, or a homily of St. 
 Chrysostom or other saint, or the Eoman 
 mart}Tology, that is, the notice of the saint for 
 the day, or selections from the lives of the 
 saints, or, as was more commonly the case, 
 some of those undiscerning legends which too 
 aptly fed the superstition, and deadened the 
 genuine soul-piety of a dark and gloomy age. 
 This duty was ordered, and strictly enforced, 
 so that, while the body was being refitted, the 
 spirit too might have its food. Some of the 
 apologues invented by the Dominican preachers 
 in their sermons or lectures were so ingenious,
 
 4.6 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 that we venture to incur reproach by inserting 
 two of them in this place. 
 
 One is as follows : — " A certain scholar in 
 the University of Bologna, of no good repute, 
 either for his morals or his manners, found 
 himself once (it might have been in a dream) 
 in a certain meadow not far from the city, and 
 there came on a terrible storm, and he fled for 
 refuge until he came to a house, where, finding 
 the door shut, he knocked and entreated shelter. 
 And a voice from within answered, ' I am 
 Justice, I dwell here, and this house is mine ; 
 but, as thou art not just, thou canst not enter 
 in.' The young man turned away sorrowfully, 
 and proceeding further, the rain and the storm 
 beating upon him, he came to another house, 
 and again he knocked and entreated shelter, 
 and a voice from within replied, ' I am Truth, 
 I dwell here, and this house is mine ; but, as 
 thou lovest not truth, thou canst not enter 
 here.' And further on he came to another 
 house, and again besought to enter, and a 
 voice from within said, ' I am Peace, I dwell
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 47 
 
 here, and this house is mine ; but, as there is no 
 peace for the wicked, and those who fear not 
 God, thou canst not enter here.' Then he 
 went on further, being much afflicted and mor- 
 tified, and he came to another door and knocked 
 timidly, and a voice from within answered, 
 'I am Mercy,. I dwell here, and this house is 
 mine; and, if thou wouldst escape from this 
 feai'ful tempest, repair quickly to the dwelling 
 of the Brethren of St. Dominick, that is the 
 only asylum for those who are truly penitent.' 
 And the scholar failed not to do as this vision 
 had commanded. He took the habit of the 
 order, and lived henceforth an ensample of 
 every virtue." 
 
 The other is after this fashion : — " It is 
 related in the apocr}^hal Gospel of Nicodemus, 
 that, when Adam fell sick, he sent his son Seth 
 to the gate of the terrestial Paradise, to ask the 
 angel in charge thereof for some drops of the 
 oil of mercy, distilled from the tree of life, 
 to cure him of disease ; but the angel answered 
 that he could not receive this healing oil until
 
 48 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 5,500 years had passed away. He gave him, 
 however, a branch of this tree, which was planted 
 upon Adam's grave. In after ages the branch 
 grew into a tree, which flourished and waxed 
 exceeding fair ; for Adam was buried in Mount 
 Lebanon, not very far from the place near 
 Damascus, whence the red earth came, out of 
 which his body was formed by the Great Creator. 
 When Balkis, Queen of Abyssinia, came to visit 
 Solomon the king, she worshipped this tree ; 
 for she prophecied that thereon should the 
 Saviour of the world be crucified, and that from 
 that time the kingdom of the Jews should 
 cease. Upon hearing this, Solomon commanded 
 that the tree should be cut down and buried in 
 a certain place in Jerusalem, where afterwards 
 was dug the pool of Bethesda, and where the 
 angel who had charge of the mysterious tree 
 troubled the waters at certain seasons, where- 
 upon those who first dipped into them were 
 cured of their ailments, whatsoever they were. 
 As the dread time of the passion of the Saviour 
 approached, the sacred timber floated up to
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 49 
 
 the surface of the water. It was at once 
 secured, and out of it the Jews made the up- 
 right part of the cross, the transverse beam 
 being made of c}^ress, the piece on which his 
 feet rested of palm, and that on which the 
 superscription was written of ohve."* 
 
 Adjoining the refectory, and facing a smah 
 open square beyond the lesser quadi^angle, was 
 the great kitchen, with its numerous store- 
 houses attached, fitted up with all the require- 
 ments, and in all the ingenuity those primeval 
 times were capable of adducing, to provide the 
 mass of edibles and condiments necessary for 
 the due provisioning of a generous diet, and an 
 unhmited hospitality. Fitly placed beneath 
 this department was an extensive eleemosynary 
 or almomy, where a large apparatus, with the 
 necessar}^ commodities, existed for the daily 
 feeding of the poor, and for the bestowal of 
 alms and medicaments. Adjoining this was the 
 ambry, respectably furnished with all manner 
 
 * Legends of the Monastic Orders. 
 
 D
 
 50 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 of Spare household stores ; the infirmary, sup- 
 pHed with every comfort and requisite for the 
 sick and maimed ; the common-house, or hall 
 of common resort for all grades of the brother- 
 hood, including the professed, the simple socii, 
 the laymen and the aspiring novice, between 
 the church services or monachal duties ; the 
 cellar, well-stocked with wines of those vintages 
 the palates of the monks so well knew how to 
 select from ; and the dungeons or prison wherein 
 refractory monks or adjudged criminals from 
 out the sanctuary experienced the manifold 
 terrors of four thick stone walls, partly or wholly 
 underground, with little light intruding, and 
 with the society of such reptiles as delight 
 immeasurably in damp and darkness. 
 
 Bounding the vast range of the monachal 
 buildings on this the eastern side, was a large 
 erection devoted to the reception of the nume- 
 rous guests that, at certain seasons, frequented 
 the monasteries, as the best- conditioned hotels 
 of the age, and which was styled, indifferently, 
 the guest hall, the hospice, or the hostrey.
 
 'or, the monks of old. 51 
 
 This building was also double- storieclj the lower 
 part forming a comfortable lounge, reception, 
 or exercise room, with the locutory or parlour 
 attached; the upper, a dormitory subdivided 
 into convenient cells, comfortably, though 
 plainly furnished. This department was placed 
 under the cai^e of a monk specially appointed, 
 and officially designated the hosteler, or the 
 guest-master. The lower chamber was hung 
 with ancient and strangely conceived arras, and 
 opened through three handsome oriel windows 
 into the convent garden and orchard, the former 
 richly cultivated, and at all times resembling 
 a balmy and beautiful, albeit mimic Eden, and 
 the latter well stocked in the season with lus- 
 cious fruit. The lay furniture was of massive 
 oak, plain and uncaxved. The noble traceried 
 windows of the upper story, the dormitory, 
 looked over the chaotic massing of the buildings 
 of the even then vast city, girded as it was 
 in the distance by two miles of grey walls, 
 defended by battlements, and a large dyke 
 called the town ditch, and approached by lofty 
 
 D 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 BLACEFEIARS ; 
 
 gates, to wit — Cripplegate, Mooregate, Bishops- 
 gate, Aldgate, and Ludgate. Over the whole 
 aggregate of the strangely assorted buildings 
 did the view of the hospitably treated guest 
 range — past, on the right, the then isolated 
 Tower of London, part fortress, part palace, 
 into the Spital's Fields and the open country — 
 past in the front the village of Clerkenwell into 
 the fields and woodlands of Finsburie — and 
 past on the left the Smooth Field, vulgarly 
 designated Smithfield, and the pretty rustic 
 village of St. Giles, up to the well-wooded and 
 verdantly green range of hills whereon now 
 cluster the well-stocked villages or districts of 
 HoUoway, Highgate, and Hampstead, then, how- 
 ever, houseless and altogether rural. 
 
 Leaving the grand masses of the conventual 
 buildings, we will now stroll back to the first 
 or principal quadrangle, and approach the ever- 
 open portals of the vast church, and there- 
 through enter the sacred edifice. 
 
 The ensemble of the configuration of the 
 interior was magnificent in the extreme. The
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 53 
 
 massy cylindrical columns and strong semi- 
 circular arches, dividing the great nave from 
 the uniformly welded aisles, together with the 
 comparative rudeness of the transepts, com- 
 bined with its oratories, lady chapels, chantries, 
 Galilee chapels, crypts, chancels, and lofty 
 triforium, must have struck the beholder with 
 many commingled feehngs of awe and wonder, 
 devotion and admiration. It was, in those 
 august days, grand in its associations with the 
 most popular and fondly cherished delusions, 
 awful too, with the most imposing and stirring 
 legends of mediaeval mythology. A forest glade 
 of exquisitely wrought pillars reached from end 
 to end on either side of the vast and lofty nave, 
 resembling, from the extreme western end, in 
 very tnith a scene of animated nature itself — a 
 plain, a forest, a sky of stone — terminated by 
 the high altai', wondi'ously enriched as the 
 glorious tabernacle of the great Dominican 
 Saint, glowing in sombre magnificence, like a 
 sunset, at the extreme line of the mighty per- 
 spective. Its doorways were lavishly sculptured 
 in shaft, and capital, and arch. Its windows
 
 64 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 ornamented with chevron and zigzag. Its lofty 
 ceihngs painted, gilded, and panelled — the 
 intersections glowing with the armorial bear- 
 ings of the rich donors, by whose liberality and 
 patronage the rare work had been carried to 
 such consummate perfection ; while its walls 
 were covered with the rarest examples of the 
 limner's art that the ancient and splendid 
 epicureanism of the Romish rehgion could 
 conjure up. 
 
 We have little doubt, from all we are able to 
 glean from the divers chronicles of the his- 
 torians of old, that the interior of this celebrated 
 church of the Black Friars was dazzling and 
 imposing in the extreme, and that its chaste 
 splendour must have instinctively inspired 
 wonder and admiration in all wiio beheld its 
 glories for the first time : 
 
 " The granite columns, mountain Mgli, 
 Rose up defiant to tlie sky ;" 
 
 while — 
 
 '' The light, 
 Through the rich gloom of pictur'd windows flowing, 
 Tinged with soft awfulness a lovely sight."
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 65 
 
 And then another poet's rhyming seems equally 
 appropriate in the lines — 
 
 ' ' Here you stand, 
 Adore and worsMp when you know it not, 
 Pious above the meaning of your thought. 
 Devout beyond the intention of your will." 
 
 The Dominican or preaching friars always 
 had a splendid reputation as artists and littera- 
 teurs, and as patrons of both. As an instance 
 of the former, we may mention that Niccolo 
 Pisano was their greatest architect; while, 
 as evidence of the latter, it may be stated 
 they employed the following famed artists to 
 decorate their churches : — Titian, Lionardi da 
 Vinci, Angehco, Fra Bartolomeo, Cigoh, Santi 
 di Tito, Andrea Orcagna, Michael Angelo, 
 Angelico da Fiesole, and Simon Memmi, whose 
 works still stand amid the shrines to which 
 they were conveyed, as hving evidences of their 
 taste. 
 
 It may be as well here to state that, generally 
 speaking, the chm'ches built by the Franciscans 
 and Dominicans consisted of a nave only,
 
 56 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 without aisles or transepts, so that when 
 preaching to the people, their chief and pre- 
 ordained vocation, they might be heard from 
 every part of the building. But exceptions 
 were made, and among these that of the Black 
 Friars was the most memorable. For, not only 
 had this favoured church large aisles and 
 transepts, with a central steeple-like dome, 
 similar to that of the Dutch Church in Austin 
 Friars, but numerous small chapels set round 
 the main body of the structure, all of which 
 enjoyed each its own magnificence, while con- 
 tributing to the general effect. Each had its 
 altar, each its elaborate carvings, each its 
 decorations like a miniature church. Of these 
 chapels one was dedicated to the Saviour, and 
 called Jesus Chapel ; one to the Holy Mother 
 of God ; another to St. Johnne, the patron or 
 tutelar saint of this monastery ; and a third to 
 St. Peter Martyr, who, next to their great 
 Patriarch, was the glory of the Dominican 
 Order. He was born at Verona about the 
 year 1205. His parents and relatives belonged
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 57 
 
 to the heretical sect of the Cathari. St. 
 Dominick, however, when preaching at Verona, 
 found in him an apt disciple, and prevailed 
 on him to assume the Dominican habit at 
 the age of fifteen. He became subsequently 
 an influential preacher, and remarkable for the 
 intolerant zeal and unrelenting cruelty with 
 which he pursued those heretics with whom he 
 had formerly been connected. In due course 
 he was promoted to high offices in the church. 
 His end was a violent one. Amid his bigoted 
 persecutions, he delivered up to the secular 
 authorities two noblemen of the Venetian 
 States, who on their release resolved on taking 
 summary and sanguinary vengeance. They 
 hired assassins to waylay him on his return 
 from Como to Milan, who on his approach 
 struck him down by a blow from an axe, which 
 effectually ended his earthly career. Though 
 generally detested during his lifetime, yet this 
 same Peter the Martyr was canonized in 1253, 
 by Innocent IV., and through the influence of 
 the Dominican order was rendered their most 
 popular saint. Over the altar of rare marbles.
 
 58 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 in the chapel dedicated to him in Blackfriars, 
 was a chef d'oeuvre of some celebrated limner, 
 in which his effigy was represented as standing 
 on a pedestal in the habit of the order, with 
 the palm in his hand, and his attribute of a 
 gashed head with an axe stuck in the gory cleft, 
 and a sword piercing his body. 
 
 The other chapels were equally enriched with 
 ecclesiastical symbols and scriptural emblems ; 
 while the walls of that of the Holy Mother 
 of God were wellnigh covered with pictures, 
 representing many of the " Legends of the 
 Madonna." In fact, the whole interior of this 
 splendid conventual church was filled with the 
 most exquisite pictures and memorials of the 
 Dominican worthies — the poetical and tradi- 
 tional saints of the order — or with rare frescoes 
 illustrating sacred allegories, painted by the 
 most famed monastic Hmners — frescoes and 
 paintings, which in themselves have as much 
 intelligibility to the initiated as books, poems, 
 or other vital sources of modern knowledge. 
 
 Proceeding up the long and splendid nave, 
 we enter the choir beneath a low curtained
 
 OR, THE MOJS^KS OF OLD. 59 
 
 doorway under the organ-loft, and awaiting our 
 inspection is ecclesiastical magnificence in its 
 richest and rarest form — a very Pactolus of 
 wealth and beauty. We approach the high 
 altar, whose blazonry consisted of gold and 
 silver, of alabaster, and lapis-lazuli of rare and 
 precious marbles ; and the wide steps before it, 
 whereon in those days knelt gentle and simple, 
 while offering up prayers and vows, that pos- 
 sessed at least the merit of being sincere. 
 There stood the rarely enmarbled altai', sur- 
 mounted by its five crosses of carved work, set 
 with jewels ; on the centre one whereof 
 
 * * A bleeding Christ was raised, 
 Of iv'ry wrought from types of diamonds bright ; 
 Inlaid in gold, a sparkHng * I.N.R.I.' blazed 
 From every gem, a drop of twinkling light 
 Shot hues of rainbows on the dazzled sight, 
 Like glitter on the reliquary play'd, 
 Imbost with sculptures of that heav'nly fight. 
 When fell a show'r of Hosts in arms array'd, 
 Through Chaos and his realm of anarchy dismay'd."* 
 
 * Fosbroke's British Monachism, p. 394.
 
 60 BLACKFRIAKS ; 
 
 Behind this cross, and somewhat above it, 
 supported by porphpy pillars, was a splendid 
 altar-piece or painting, representing the Last 
 Judgment, called 3Ia2)pa Muncli, and before 
 which hung the antejMndium, or veil for cover- 
 ing it. Surrounding the altar, and enclosing a 
 semicircular space in front of it, sufficient for 
 the pompous celebration of the Romish service, 
 was a row of short pillars like unto the marble 
 columns around the sacred precincts of Palmyra 
 and Jerasch, in lieu of the iconostasis or wooden 
 partition which usually divided the church from 
 the altar, and which in modern times receives 
 the appellation of the rood-loft or screen. 
 Within this space the floor was paved with rich 
 coloured tiles; while on one side stood the 
 table for the altar plate called the credentia or 
 ministerium, and on the other the sedes majes- 
 tatis, or bench for the officiating priests. The 
 altar table was unusually large, and was inlaid 
 with precious marbles, porph}Ty, and serpentine, 
 interspersed with gold, silver, and gems of price, 
 and was surmounted by the reliquaries.
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 61 
 
 Every monastery, eveiy \illage cliurch, in 
 ancient times, had its special relics, its special 
 images, its especial attribute, to attract public 
 interest and patronage — for the most pai't the 
 rare offerings of their numerous votaries. And 
 on this subject I beg to quote a passage from a 
 modern historian.''" "The reverence for the 
 remains of noble and pious men, the dresses 
 which they had worn on the bodies in which 
 then' sphits had lived, was in itself a natural 
 and pious emotion. It had been petrified into 
 a dogma; and, like every other imaginative feel- 
 ing which is submitted to that process, it had 
 become a falsehood, a mere superstition, a sub- 
 stitute for piety, not a stimulus to it, and a 
 perpetual occasion for h'aud. The people 
 brought offerings to the shrines where it was 
 supposed that the rehcs were of greatest 
 potency. The clergy, to secure the offerings, 
 invented relics and invented the stories of the 
 wonders which had been worked by them. The 
 
 * Froude's History of England, vol. ii., p. 91.
 
 62 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 great exposure of these things took place at the 
 visitation of the rehgious houses. '•' * '•' "^^ " ""^ 
 * * Besides matters of this kind, there were 
 images of the Virgin or of the saints ; above all, 
 roods or crucifixes of especial potency; the 
 virtues of which had begun to grow uncertain, 
 however, to sceptical Protestants ; and from 
 doubt to denial, and from denial to passionate 
 hatred, there were but a few brief steps. The 
 most famous of the roods was that of Boxley, in 
 Kent, which used to smile and bow, or frown 
 and shake its head, as its worshippers w^ere 
 generous or close-handed. There was another, 
 however, at Dovercom^t, in Suffolk, of scarcely 
 inferior fame. This image was of such power, 
 it was said that the door of the church in which 
 it stood was open at all hours to all comers, and 
 no human hand could close it. Dovercom% 
 therefore, became a place of great and lucrative 
 pilgrimage, much resorted to by the neighbours 
 on all occasions of difficulty." Among these 
 sacred repositories, we are assured, were such 
 things simulated as the parings of St Edmund's
 
 UE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 63 
 
 toes; some ashes that had roasted St. Lawrence ; 
 the girdle of the blessed Virgin, shown in several 
 places; two or three heads of St. Ursula; part of 
 the under raiment of Thomas a Beckett, much 
 reverenced by women ; and earth from Golgotha 
 and Calvaiy. 
 
 We cannot take exception to the dogma that 
 there is an uTesistible tendency in the com'se 
 of human affah's, to mix the tragic with the 
 comic, the grave with the gay, and the subhmest 
 questions with the most ridiculous mimicries. 
 So was it in the times and of the order of things 
 and beings we have referred to. They may 
 not have thought it ; but most certainly 
 the priests of those days acted as if they en- 
 deavoui'ed to make religion a species of drama, 
 farce or ballet, upon the supposition, and with 
 the intent, mayhap, that it would more vividly 
 impress the imagination. They no doubt be- 
 tliought themselves that there were sights which 
 the human mind could not forget, when once it 
 had witnessed them, however much it might 
 thereafter deshe to do so. An odd figure, an
 
 64 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 imposing piece of mechanism, a grotesque 
 dress, an eccentric manner, a motley procession; 
 in fact, any outrage against good taste or sound 
 judgment, they assumed, easily took possession 
 of the mind, and would not away speedily with 
 the things that are forgotten. Pomp and 
 ostentation of the most sacrilegious species, and 
 imposition of the rankest kind, were not held in 
 disesteem by these priests and monks of old ! 
 
 " Christ everywhere thrust clear aside, 
 By Mammon, Priestcraft, Pomp, and Pride." 
 
 We have above referred to the five crosses 
 surmounting the table at the high altar ; and it 
 may not be considered altogether out of place, 
 if I refer shortly to the changes made in that 
 great emblem of salvation — the crucifix, in 
 order to show how ready the Roman Church 
 is to adapt itself in matters of even small 
 moment to the changes which are taking place 
 in the world at large, and in the spirit of the 
 age. It may surprise many to hear that the 
 crucifix was not known until the fifth century.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 65 
 
 In the sixth century the figure of our Saviour 
 was first attached. In the eleventh, the figure 
 was completely clothed. In the twelfth the rohe 
 was shortened, and the sleeves made to termi- 
 nate at the elbows. In the thirteenth, the robe 
 was exchanged for a cloth girded round the 
 loins, while in the fifteenth century the present 
 configuration of the crucifixwas first inaugurated. 
 
 The splendour of conventual churches hath 
 been most reasonably explained in the announce- 
 ment that " personal expense or secular in- 
 dulgence was culpable in a monk, but what was 
 expended in ornamenting the church was to 
 the glorification of God and the Blessed Virgin." 
 And we must trust to this excuse being implied 
 in the splendour and gorgeousness which, it is 
 well ascertained, bedecked the conventual church 
 of the Black Friars. 
 
 Among the most memorable of its adornments 
 were its numerous paintings, telling intermin- 
 able legends of the saints, or the most notable 
 events of the early Christian church. There 
 was an object — a not unworthy purpose — in
 
 66 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 these latter adornments. In those days, and 
 the ages preceding them, few people could read, 
 and the walls of the churches, covered as they 
 were with splendid frescoes, served in the place 
 of book-lore to insense the minds of the 
 vulgar or unlearned with the histories and 
 doctrines of the old faith, which was further- 
 more explained to them in homilies, or church- 
 manly harangues. So that, in these old 
 monastic pictures, a series of the most inte- 
 resting and instructive biographies and histories 
 was produced. 
 
 Among the most famous paintings covering 
 the walls of the noble choir we have been de- 
 scribing, were several traditions relating to the 
 prophet Moses, and strange legends of which 
 King Solomon was the hero ; a large one 
 representing the seven sorrows of the Blessed 
 Virgin Mary ; another, the Maccahre, or Dance 
 of Death ; another, painfully realizing the awful 
 procession from the garden of Gethsemane to 
 the Hall of Caiaphas and the Tribunal of 
 Pilate ; and yet another elaborating the divine
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 67 
 
 tragedy of Calvary. Gracefully leaning for- 
 ward at various intervals, were statues rescued 
 from the ruins of art, when art itself was 
 worshipped as divine, filling their fairly chosen 
 niches with the silent glory of then magic 
 beauty — at noontide rendered all the more 
 beautiful from the crimson radiance that glared 
 around them from the richly stained clerestory 
 windows above. 
 
 Within the panels behind the stalls running 
 down the centre of the chon, were some curious 
 legendary paintings of St. Dominick and the 
 other favourite saints of the order. The seats 
 used by the celebrated friars were of the usual 
 grotesque and shelving kind adopted in con- 
 ventual churches, termed very appropriately the 
 misereres. 
 
 Passing beside the altar, and into the open 
 semi- octangular space behind, designated the 
 apsis, we perceive a small recess in the wall, 
 called the piscina, wherein these monks of old 
 washed then hands when they needed, ere they 
 proceeded to their duties in the choir. Herein,
 
 68 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 too, were the lachrymatories or vessels for hold- 
 ing the tears of the devout and penitent — the 
 stone of unction — the pillar of flagellation — 
 and the recessed baptistry containing a bath 
 of most precious marble. Behind the apsis 
 was the revestiy or robing-room. Returning to 
 the nave, an ecclesiastical pantheon for effigies 
 to the ennobled dead, we notice a long series 
 of handsome monuments running down the 
 whole length of either aisle and ambulatory. 
 Among which were those in honour of Margaret, 
 Queen of Scots ; Hubert de Burgh, Earl of 
 Kent, the founder ; the Earl of Bellimon ; the 
 Countess of Arundel; the Duke of Cornwall, 
 the brother of Edward III.; Lord Liothe ; Lord 
 Scrope ; Lord Amand ; James, King of Spain ; 
 the Countess of Huntingdon; the Duchess of 
 Exeter; Lord Beaumont, Lord Fanlope, the Earl 
 of Devonshire, Robert de Attabeto, and a host 
 of other celebrities, who were buried in this 
 renowned church of the Black Friars. There 
 were also certain other monuments erected in 
 memory of those whose hearts alone were buried
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 69 
 
 there — a not uncommon custom then ; and, 
 among these, were those to Queen EUnor, the 
 great patron, Alfonse her son, Sh' Westye, and 
 the Countess of Lie. 
 
 The entu'e church then possessed the true 
 colouring of Gothic architecture. Every window 
 was filled with divers commemorative legends, 
 illustrated in glass stained with more diverse 
 colouring than ever Iris displayed in mid-heaven, 
 and these, reflected along the tesselated pave- 
 ments of the interior, gave a wondi^ous and 
 magic colouring to the whole atmosphere, real- 
 izing, in a marvellous rainbow-hued illumination 
 as it were, the visions of a Miltonic imagination. 
 
 The church exhibited, in its primeval gior}% 
 the utmost magnificence of external ritual — 
 those grand displays in which the Catholicism* 
 of Rome, like the paganism it embodied, ever 
 luxuriates ; and when the monks, clad in their 
 white robes and black hoods, which formed the 
 costume of then' devotions, passed in pompous 
 procession, chanting solemn psalms of dole, 
 the fragrant incense in the silver thuribles
 
 70 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 percolating its innocuous essences around, the 
 blazoned altar brightly illuminated by the flames 
 of many tall candles, and the full, broad, swelling 
 harmony of the great organ filling the vast 
 interior, when — 
 
 '* Such was tlie winged music's downy flight, 
 That Echo silent was from exquisite delight," — 
 
 the effect, it can well be imagined, was above 
 all things gi^and — one of those impressive 
 scenes wherein the still small voice within us 
 would say : " Bow the knee, and mutter, God's 
 will be done." Ay, then, in the height of its 
 glory and renown, the sensuous religion that 
 first consecrated it haunted still its noble aisles 
 and revered shrines, hovered in each sumptuous 
 chapel, glided solemnly through the gloom of 
 pillar and arch, and would not have speeded 
 away until eternity itself, had Vandalism not 
 swept away the superb and time-honoured 
 structure. 
 
 Had it been spared, its very dust would have 
 been purple with the ashes of princes and the
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 71 
 
 great ones of earth, its very ruins might have 
 been still one of the proudest boasts of Eng- 
 land's ecclesiastical architecture, a monument 
 of a dead world's adoration, while — 
 
 '' Each ivied arch and pillar lone 
 Pleaded haughtily for glories gone !" 
 
 But all has fled. The scorching blast of 
 ruthless Vandalism has passed over its sm^face, 
 and not even a broken carving remains to speak 
 of the chaste beauties and solemn glories that 
 have been. All are gone — that noble church, 
 those rare embellishments, those exquisite 
 monuments, that luminous altar, those majestic 
 ceremonials, those gorgeous accompaniments. 
 As hath been well written " in memoriam " of 
 the monasteries in general — "the hymn was 
 no more to be chaunted in the lady's chapel, 
 and the candles were no more to be ht on the 
 high altar, and the gate of the poor was to be 
 closed for ever, and the wanderer was no more 
 to find a home " — so might it be in especial 
 said of that of the Black Friai's. Gone, all gone
 
 72 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 — SO passes away the beautiful, the magnificent, 
 the rich, the powerful. 
 
 " Monastic arches, silent cloisters lone, 
 And ruin'cl cells, ye know what loving is ; 
 Gone are your chill cold naves, your pavements, stone 
 Wliich burning lips did faint o'er when they kiss. 
 
 J?? w "^ "^ w tF 
 
 With your baptismal waters bathe their face, 
 
 Tell them a moment how their knees must wear 
 
 The cold sepulchral stones, before the grace 
 
 Of loving as you loved they hope to share. 
 
 Vast was the love which from your chalices. 
 
 Mysterious monks ! with a full heart ye drew. 
 
 Ye loved with ardent souls ! Oh, happy lot for you !"
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 73 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 "j\EAYING the monastery and the cloistered 
 close, passing through the swing-gate, 
 whereat, in an alcove, slumbers the monkish 
 guai'dian, the reader will please accompany us 
 through the main thoroughfare of the Wilder- 
 ness to one of the old and stately mansions 
 bordering the Thames. 
 
 A large, rambling, many-gabled edifice was 
 the one referred to — built in a chaotic confusion 
 of galleries, flights of massive steps, large por- 
 ticoed doorway, innumerable lattices, grotesque 
 ornaments and penthouses. In front ran a 
 broad, handsomely balustraded terrace ; while 
 an arcaded court divided the interior of the 
 mansion into four quadrangular parts. Toned 
 down by time, its corroded carvings, so rich 
 
 E
 
 74 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 and florid in their details, still exhibited great 
 architectural beauty. 
 
 Between the house and the river was a large 
 pleasure ground, once fairly laid out and planted, 
 but then, though profusely shrubbed and wooded, 
 wearing many reproachful semblances of neglect. 
 The broad terrace walk was bespattered thickly 
 with weeds ; the stone steps and the carved 
 balusters were broken in some parts, and coated 
 in others with the green spreading moss or the 
 mantling ivy. The once smooth lawn was thick, 
 rank, and coarse, for want of proper training ; 
 while, beneath the waving of the massy oaks 
 which lined the river's bank, the numerous par- 
 terres had lost their quaint devices, and the 
 glittering knots of flowers — diamond, crossbow, 
 trefoil and cinquefoil — were scarcely to be dis- 
 tinguished in their primeval shapes. 
 
 On the brow of an artificial mound, to the 
 extreme right of the garden, and close to the 
 river's bank, covered with flowers and trees of 
 drooping foliage, was a pleasant alcove, formed 
 of interlacing boughs and thick verdant moss.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 76 
 
 A flight of grassy steps led up to it ; while all 
 around were well shrubberied steeps, artistically 
 laid, covered with a strange admixture of flowers 
 and weeds, and through a small rugged cleft, 
 in which a little cascade descended with diminu- 
 tive spluttering, into a marble basin beneath, 
 still inhabited by gold and silver fish. 
 
 From the summit of this artificial eminence, 
 amid the dewy scent of flowers, an extensive 
 view was obtained of the pastoral district across 
 the glistening river, of the river itself wending 
 its way down to old London Bridge, and of that 
 ancient structure also, mth its towers, gate- 
 ways, lofty superstructures and narrow ai'ches, 
 through which the pent-up current dashed with 
 iiTesistible force and volume. AYhile, adjoin- 
 ing the opposite shore, could be discerned St. 
 Saviours Priory, AYinchester House, and the 
 walks, gardens and playhouses, terminating 
 with the fine groves of timber bordering Lam- 
 beth marshes. 
 
 Ascending to the top of the mound, one fine 
 afternoon of early spring, in the year of grace 
 
 E 2
 
 76 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 1533, a striking group might have been de- 
 tected, consisting of an elderly dame and two 
 young girls. The former was seated at a little 
 distance within the shady alcove, and, with 
 magnifying glasses before her eyes, was en- 
 deavouring to knit some fancifully conceived 
 mystery. She was tall, and of a somewhat 
 majestic appearance, as if she had seen better 
 times than those wherein she was doomed to 
 play the part of gouvernante. Her form, though 
 bowed, had once been fine, and her visage still 
 retained the semblances of former beauty. She 
 was soberly and formally attired in a costume of 
 dark colours, with a kirtle of thick brown 
 samyte. In rich and diverse contrast to this 
 sedate-looking matron arose the forms of the 
 two young girls, as they reclined upon the 
 emerald green of the soft turf, besprent, as it 
 was, with daisies and wild flowers. 
 
 The tallest and eldest of the two was of great 
 and exalted beauty. Her commanding figure 
 might have been esteemed a thought too tall, 
 were it not for the symmetrical undulations of
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 77 
 
 the outlines, so perfect, so soft, so enthralling. 
 The face, a model of natural sculpture, was filled 
 with an inexplicable play of ever-varying fas- 
 cination. A species of subdued fire lurked in 
 its whole character, while, beaming continually 
 on its surface, was a singular union of vivacity 
 and resignation, languor and deep impassioned 
 feeling. Premature care and unwonted thought 
 had paled, in a degree, the rich colouring of the 
 face — the vivacity of early youth having seem- 
 ingly been quenched beneath some staunchless 
 grief; while, in the unstudied gi'ace and profu- 
 sion of the thickly tressed hah, and the plain, 
 though neat assortment of her attire, it was 
 palpable she studied not the requirements of 
 fashion, or the exigencies of the beau monde. 
 But no queenly robe, no conspicuous garniture, 
 ever became its royal wearer more, or set off to 
 greater advantage the rich and wavy outhnes of 
 the figure, than did the robe of this young girl 
 her form, fashioned though it was of the com- 
 monest materials. Wealth could not have 
 purchased any ornaments more becoming, or
 
 78 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 more in taste, than the simple apd invaluable 
 ones she wore. The possessor of this goodly 
 admixture of form and face was in the freshen- 
 ing bloom of early womanhood, her age being 
 probably at this time about two or three -and- 
 twenty. Such, briefly, is the description of 
 one who essayed and played a great part in 
 the stirring drama of that eventful period. 
 Already publicly known, renowned and vene- 
 rated, Elizabeth Barton, the Holy Maid of Kent, 
 one of the first great advocates and teachers 
 of the '* new learning," was yet to do and dare 
 more in that great cause — the Reformation — 
 which, like the coming earthquake, was shaking 
 the solid foundations of earlier and more super- 
 stitious ages, and dismaying men's minds with 
 its murmuring thunders, and, not a long while 
 thereafter, to attest her own faith and affirm the 
 truth of the Grand Doctrine she preached by 
 an early and a fearful martyrdom. 
 
 Her companion, listening and joining eagerly 
 in the conversation incited by herself, was an 
 exquisite rival, in face and form, to the beauty
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 79 
 
 just described. Considerably younger — I should 
 say, taking her age at a guess, not yet attained 
 eighteen years — she was, in comparison to the 
 divine and ennobled loveliness of the elder, like 
 unto some elaborate but exquisite work of gold 
 fihgree beside a rare and highly wrought statue 
 of marble. In the one shone all of life, vivacity 
 and innocence, accorded so bountifully by nature 
 to the youthful Eve, while in the other were to 
 be traced disappointment, divine inspiration, 
 bold daring and a determined purpose. She 
 was a girl in the earliest years of budding 
 womanhood, shining like a sun-clad seraph amid 
 the darkly foliaged background and suiTound- 
 ings. She appeared the very archetype of 
 sweetness and beauty. All the features were 
 divinely perfect ; not a fault could be found, 
 save that, in the beautiful deep blue orbs, there 
 was a something wanting, which, for long, 
 would have puzzled the enthralled gazer. They 
 were wonderfully lustrous, filled by a strange 
 fascination, and volcanic with unstirred passion, 
 and yet the spark to kindle and brighten the
 
 80 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 clear blue liquid depths was absent. Though 
 gifted with such resplendent sources of vision, 
 yet the thrice-blessed power of vision itself was 
 wanting. Those perfect orbs had no sight ; and, 
 amid the beauty, purity and innocence which 
 surrounded her, like a lustrous halo, with the 
 snowy atmosphere of heaven, she appeared a 
 lovely, but a sightless syren. The exquisite 
 outline of the remaining features was well 
 matched by the lovely bloom of a complexion 
 which, in its rich toning, resembled the pale 
 pinkiness of the inmost leaf of the blushing 
 rose. Her figure was not yet rounded to its full 
 contour, though advantageously set off by her 
 rich and handsome dress. The fashion of these 
 garments owed much of their effect to the 
 lovely outlines of the form they encircled and 
 displayed. It consisted of a dark green satin 
 dress, richly wrought in embroidery, with long 
 hanging sleeves and low-bosomed boddice — a 
 style imposed on the well-to-do portion of the 
 community by the great leader of fashion in that 
 day, Anne Boleyn, who had taken it from that
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 81 
 
 in vogue at the voluptuous court of Francis I. 
 Encircling her fair neck, and falhng down on 
 her heaving bust, was a rosary of golden beads ; 
 while, surmounting the clustering ringlets 
 of almost flaxen hair, was a plumed and 
 jewelled broad-brimmed cap of velvet, placed 
 jauntily, as was the custom, on the side of 
 the head. The expression of mingled softness 
 and vivacity, the lively gesturing, the depth and 
 yet playfulness of the smile, the almost fault- 
 less eyes, the undulating figure, the full bust, 
 all combined, formed an apparition of loveliness 
 seldom to be met with, and, if once seen, never, 
 to life's longest day, forgotten. Subduing, and 
 giving extra grace and attraction to this vivid 
 beauty, was the sweetest virgin modesty, and 
 the most thrilling humility and bashfulness. 
 These additional attributes of perfection sur- 
 mounted all the other glorious details like sun- 
 shine the unspotted snow. 
 
 " I deske not to live. I wish to be what I 
 was ere I was what I am," said Elizabeth 
 Barton, in a dreary tone. " I would be, as was 
 
 E 3
 
 82 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 the intent of my being, the hand of destiny ; but 
 men — hypocrites and blasphemers — have made 
 me their tool, and have for ever deflowered my 
 peace." 
 
 "Oh! why not leave the fearful path you 
 tread on ? Jesu Maria ! it will, peradventure, 
 lead to your destruction," urged her companion, 
 with zealous warmth. 
 
 " I care not, should such be the result, 
 Mistress More. I shall persevere until the 
 living hearts of men become the temples of the 
 Most High. Amid the darkness which sur- 
 rounds me — through the flames and fumes of 
 some cabalistic future, ever tormenting me in 
 my dreams with its nigh presence — I can 
 prophesy, and say God's kingdom will come, 
 and that its hour is at hand." 
 
 '^ Oh, have a care, Barton, have a care, 
 prithee ! The walls — the very shrubs may hold 
 some lurking informer, who, to hear thee speak 
 thus, were thy certain most fearful doom," said 
 the young girl, shuddering. 
 
 " I care not. My end is predestined !" ex-
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 88 
 
 claimed the Maid of Kent. ''\Yhen my hour 
 comes, I will meet my fate as one who is aware 
 she perishes for the truth." 
 
 " Oh, forbear 1 For if you wert so to die, you 
 would but suffer on a point which is open and 
 moot among all, even your disciples, most holy 
 maid." 
 
 "Not so, Mistress Aveline, not so. The 
 doctrine I enforce, and for which, peradventure, 
 I must die, will yet prove itself to be the stone 
 which has been set at nought by many builders, 
 and become, ere long, the head of the corner," 
 urged the dauntless and inspired girl. 
 
 "Oh, would that my soul were set at rest 
 on an assured anchorage !" pleaded Aveline 
 More. 
 
 " 'Tis not likely so to be, lady, while thou 
 hast a cacodaemon for a confessor, and art 
 influenced by pretended miracles, which no 
 more affright even children in the daylight, and 
 are but the inspnations, I am certified, of some 
 hideous demonology." 
 
 " My ways of life have thus far been as
 
 84 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 white, though, it may be, as bleak and desolate 
 as the paths of the wind through the snow," 
 replied Aveline, with a sad look, and in a 
 melancholy tone. '* I often think I shall follow 
 the urgent advice of Dan Theodulph, and gain 
 a sure shelter by becoming a votaress of our 
 Lady of the Assumption at Clerkenwell." 
 
 " What ! Seek the life of a frog in a well, and 
 adopt the white veil of probation. Nay, Heaven 
 forfend that so much loveliness were shut from 
 the light of day, and handed over to the cause 
 of these greasy-pated friars, through some 
 crafty enticement of an evil monk's intended 
 sortilege." 
 
 " What is the light of day to me. Barton ? 
 Can I see it? Can I enjoy the beauties of 
 nature they say exist, and which, as a dream 
 that is past, I sometimes picture to myself? 
 In my sleep strange fancies hold me ; and, 
 methinks, at certain seasons, a mystic seraph 
 hovers in a flood of glory nigh me ; while again, 
 at others, an angel touches his viol, and makes 
 celestial music. But all seems lost and less
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 85 
 
 than naught in this darkness, amid teeming life 
 and nature." 
 
 " Thou wilt regain the blessing thou didst so 
 mispleasantly lose, if there breathes aught of 
 truth or science in Master Verstegan's shadowy 
 forewarnings." 
 
 '' I am well nigh aweary with the deferred 
 hope, Mistress Barton," sighed Aveline. 
 
 " It shall be seen in the fulness of time. 
 Mayhap there is more of providence in your 
 visitation than thou dost deem. Thou art a 
 worthy knight's daughter, that can but ill afford 
 to lose the value of a tinsel tag in the brilliant 
 coronet of vulue. The com't wert an ill atmo- 
 sphere for such pearHness as thine ; and if thine 
 eyes could see, as well as speak the unuttered 
 things they do, thine innocence wert not easily 
 kept from that ruinous sphere. But hearken, 
 lady, to my warning ; keep thou from the nigh 
 presence and tutelage of that monkish Sathanos, 
 Dan Theodulph, as in these days he styleth 
 himself — the sub-prior of yonder monastery. 
 There is more than seeminof in the warmth of
 
 86 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 his ministrations, more disloyalty in his fatherly 
 communion, than perchance thy trusting soul 
 doth lead thee to image or make supposal of." 
 
 " 0, Christian maid, say not so. There is 
 nothing strange, I trow, for a maiden to receive 
 her soul's physician, when she must needs con- 
 descend to abide the presence of her bodily 
 leech, when sickness secures her to the 
 bed-ingle," querily answered the beautiful girl. 
 
 " Thou art too modest a nay-and-forsooth 
 thing to suffer much, even amid the trammels 
 and meshes of the Evil One. While within the 
 Wilderness, I shall oft be with thee ; and I will 
 assay the spiritual food which this unctuous 
 confessor of thine shall pretendedly offer you." 
 
 " How it comes to pass you appear so deeply 
 bosomed in the monks doings, I know not; but 
 of a truth thou misjudgest Father Theodulph," 
 urged Aveline More warmly. " Thou wettest 
 not the awakening grace and power he hath in 
 his words, nor how he dismisses his penitents, 
 frequently full of distraction and despair. He 
 is alike to all, he flatters none, though many
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 87 
 
 there be who would fain purchase peace at its 
 highest value — and all one hath were little 
 enow for that." 
 
 " The peace of God is not bought with a 
 price, nor can it be weighted in human scales,*' 
 exclaimed Elizabeth Barton impressively. "But, 
 lo, ye ! I must be about my Master's business." 
 
 " Prithee be carefal of thyself, Barton. Go 
 not forth of the Sanctuary, to utter the flaming 
 words ye are customed, be they truth or other- 
 wise." 
 
 " I must forth, but will return anon. I must 
 continue to urge the doomed ones not to persist 
 in the sins and errors of the Great Supersti- 
 tion," exclaimed the holy enthusiast. " These 
 are fearful times we live in. London is become 
 another Nineveh; and a fearful doom is por- 
 tended, should she not turn from her evil ways. 
 With the prophet Nahum I exclaim, ' Wo to the 
 city I it is full of lies, deceit, idol worship, and 
 destruction.' But many, many and continuous 
 will be the monstrous crimes, enacted under 
 Heaven's purple canopy, and beneath the eye of
 
 88 BLACKFRIARS 
 
 its mighty Dweller, so long as this Herodias, 
 whom men call king, with his wilful conceits 
 and his mediaeval tyranny, rules and lives." 
 
 " Oh, hush. Mistress Barton ! I pray thee, 
 silence. What could save thee if such words 
 were overheard," exclaimed Aveline, turning 
 her head timidly around. 
 
 The Maid of Kent had risen to her feet 
 during the previous denunciation, as if im- 
 pressed with an inward illumination and yearn of 
 the spirit, fitly resembhng, with the loftily sculp- 
 tured beauty of her face, and the wondrous grace 
 and symmetry of her form, the heaven-sent spirit 
 of tribulation denouncing an ungodly world. 
 
 " I fear not evil or mischance of any kind. 
 Heaven may have intended to use me, as one of 
 its instruments, to scourge the oppressor and 
 evil-doer, or to battle with the tyrant, this king, 
 who is as cruel as Nero, prodigal as Caligula, 
 and insatiate as Tiberius. I may be able to 
 compass his overthrow, and alter the demission 
 of the crown. I may, moreover, die a martyr 
 to my faith, or do battle for it, as the blessed
 
 OR. THE :^IOXKS OF OLD. 89 
 
 Maid of Orleans at the head of armed legions of 
 the followers of the Brethren of Jesus. But I 
 can prophesy that the Furies of antiquity 
 avenged not more predeterminedly the blood of 
 Clytemnestra on her son and slayer, than will 
 future times on the bloody tyrant and per- 
 secutors of these days, the saint-destruction they 
 have wrought. A very archangel was he on 
 whom they last laid their gory, merciless fangs." 
 
 " Of whom speak you ?" asked Avehne, 
 interested in her strange companion's discourse, 
 in spite of its dangerous pui-port. 
 
 " Of Eaphael Pioodspere," beloved alike of 
 God and man," replied Elizabeth Bai'ton. 
 
 " Ah, blessed Jesu, how sad a fate was his. 
 So gentle, so loving, so good, so holy. 'Twas 
 indeed a cruel shame to rack him on the blazing 
 stake," said the gentle and commiserating girl. 
 
 '^ It was a glorious death for him, the blessed 
 martyr — the first of a long hne of immortals, 
 who shall do and die for the leaven of Wicliffe. 
 
 * Vide Romance of '' "Westminster Abbey."
 
 90 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 But the flames and fumes of his fiery furnace 
 mounted heavenward, to be recorded there 
 against a day of solemn assize and judgment. 
 The doers of that hideous deed did him a won- 
 drous grace, though by it they have compassed 
 their own eternal damnation. But again, dear 
 lady, let me warn thee not to be too implicit in 
 your faith of the baneful preachments and 
 dominion sway of Dan Theodulph. He is, I 
 trow, esteemed a very saint, and I believe 
 endowed with a voiceful oily magic that wins 
 well with women. He deals profusely with his 
 glozing tongue in the marvels of miracle-telling. 
 But thou canst not discern as do I the evil- 
 wrought expression of his deformed visage. 
 Moreover, nurse no longer in your mind the 
 unsavoury advice which proposes to consign an 
 entire existence to cloistral solitude and useless 
 abnegation. You are as yet too young and 
 ignorant of your own inclinations and of the 
 world you would relinquish, to be able to form 
 a ripe and fitting judgment. The Eternal did 
 not make the loveliest of his creations for a
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 91 
 
 lifelong immurement from the light also of his 
 creation — to either then- beauty and fragrance 
 in unseen neglect, behind some dull cold 
 cloistral walls. Nay dearest lady, dwell not on 
 such a theme ; thy thoughts, with my aid, must 
 be bent on a more promising errand. Good 
 truth, this is a pregnant age, in which fear, 
 faith, and madness will hew themselves a 
 passage through its dai'kness into an eternal 
 and soul-inspiring light. But feai' not for 
 yourself. Ever while this shattered vessel of 
 the flesh, enclosing an icy soul enwrapt in 
 winter's snows, still holds together amid the 
 throes of the coming storm, that a bai-que of 
 refuge and comfort will be wanting to thee." 
 
 " Oh ! would that I could persuade you, 
 Mistress Barton, not to venture forth beyond 
 these saving walls, lest some grievous mis- 
 chance befall thee. Knowest thou not the 
 Comii is sojourning at the palace of the Bride- 
 well, close by ; and 'tis said the king is highly 
 incensed against thee." 
 
 "The Court at Bridewell," said Elizabeth 
 Bai'ton thoughtfully.
 
 92 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 " Of a troth, yes. Met there, the better to 
 attend the Court of Divorce, to be re-holclen 
 on the morrow, m the chapter-house of the 
 monastery, at which, my dear father apprizes 
 me, the cruel king is bent, against all justice 
 and beseechance to the contrary, to have a 
 decisive judgment pronounced." 
 
 '' That will he not then. For many there be 
 who are deteimined to oppose so gigantic a 
 wrong ; and Wolsey himself is not, I trow, so 
 lowly fallen, as to raise his bitterest enemy to 
 the queenly throne, by divorcing the good 
 Queen Catherine, and thus leaving a vacancy in 
 the royal nuptial couch. And so the court 
 meets again on the morrow. Marry, it is well ; 
 but 'tis the more needful I should be stming. 
 I have much to do, and little time for the doing 
 withal. Fare thee well, dear lady, until eve- 
 time, when I must needs return to visit thy 
 noble father." 
 
 The Maid of Kent departed, tracing her way 
 through the mazy garden towards the Wilder- 
 ness, leaving the lovely Aveline — a daughter by 
 an earlier and secret marriage of the earnest
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 93 
 
 courtier, good statesman, and faithful historian, 
 Sir Thomas More — in a somewhat disturbed 
 and uneasy state of mind, while she pursued 
 the gossamer threads of a maiden's pure fancy. 
 And more anxious and still more disturbed 
 would the young and beautiful girl have been, 
 could she have observed and understood what 
 was enacting within a few yards of the spot 
 where she reclined, seemingly so secure and free 
 from all danger. 
 
 Du'ectly behind, and closely adjoining the 
 artificial mound and floral bower, was a thick, 
 luxuriant hedgework formed of matted briars, 
 vines, and honeysuckles, twisted with consider- 
 able skill into a dense and well-nigh impene- 
 trable wall, over which waved and sprouted the 
 luxuriant verdure and odorous blossoms of 
 numerous fruit trees — a very Hesperides in 
 profusion, colour, and perfume. 
 
 Some little time previous to the departure of 
 Elizabeth Barton, a skiff, sculled by two sturdy 
 oarsmen, had floated up and down the river in 
 front of the gardens. Had it been observed, it
 
 94 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 would have been evident from close observation, 
 that the two cloaked and masked figures who sat 
 in the stern of the boat were taking careful gauge 
 and scrutiny of the mound, its surroundings 
 and attendant group. Almost immediately after 
 the Maid of Kent had left the scene, the boat 
 was pulled swiftly and silently to the shore, and 
 stranded at a point a little beyond where the 
 matted hedge we have made mention of dipped 
 itself into the flowing river — a spot perfectly 
 hidden from the view of any one within the 
 grounds or mansion belonging to Sir Thomas 
 More. Here, after giving the seeming boatmen 
 some murmured instructions, the twin disguised 
 passengers leaped ashore, and wended their way 
 up the bank to the matted hedge close behind 
 the screening bower. At this point, with all 
 care to themselves, and in silent circumspec- 
 tion, they forced a way through, and stoop 
 within the antique gardens, obtaining, without 
 drawing observation on themselves, a slight 
 view of the exquisite face and fonn of the un- 
 conscious Avehne. They were about to move
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 95 
 
 forward again, when a charming, trilhng sound 
 stayed them awhile. Apollo and the Muses 
 might have stood enchanted at such sweet 
 wai'bling. It was the voice of the young gh'l, 
 which, rising from the woody and picturesque 
 knoll, amid the hushed effulgence of the glow- 
 ing sunset, resembled the liquid sweetness and 
 mocking profusion of an Itahan nightingale. 
 
 " She is witching in voice, i 'faith, Ralph, as 
 ivell as angelic in person," mm'mured one of the 
 two entranced watchers. "Chloe and Amai-yllis 
 of old could not more tunefully have piped their 
 pastorals." 
 
 " Your Highnesses judgment is never amiss," 
 mm-mured the other, responsively. 
 
 '• Gads death I call me no Highness, Sadler, 
 when playing the knave after this fashion. I 
 am but then simple Perrot, son of a worthy 
 couple you wot of in Pembrokeshire. 'Sdeath ! 
 my royal sire, though half a knave himself, 
 would sadly distraught me with lectures on my 
 knavish tricks did he know on them." 
 
 " Gad's my life, most worthy Sir John," re-
 
 96 
 
 torted the other, jeermgly, ^'thou shalt have 
 thy fill of simple reminder and simpler treat- 
 ment. Will it please you, rustic Perrot, to go 
 forth from this damp concealment, and let us 
 warm ourselves within the sunniness surround- 
 ing yon pretty maid." 
 
 " I'll warrant me, good Sir Ralph, that thou 
 art now mightily vexed of Satan with some 
 troublesome yearnings towards my intended 
 prize." 
 
 " Out upon thee, good master mine, to sup- 
 pose I should essay my looks and person in 
 rivalry with thine, though 'tis a sweet fruit to 
 pluck and own, I must needs confess." 
 
 " I do not, then, misthink thee, Sadler. I 
 trow well enow that body of thine is all of an 
 ache to fall upon yonder pretty warbler, though 
 'tis mine to trap and cage." 
 
 " Forward then, beau sire, sithence you would 
 not have it scape thee. See, old Dame Sour- 
 krout hath called her sweet charge away." 
 
 So it happed. The red sun had set amidst 
 a sea of light floating clouds, and the evening's
 
 OPi, THE :\rOXKS OF OLD. 97 
 
 mist was fast ascending from the warm and 
 glowing earth into the more fiigid ah, as the 
 lamp of the universe faded in the far west. The 
 careful and devoted female, who had from early 
 infancy nursed and tended the motherless gh'l, 
 recked not that her pretty, gentle lambkin should 
 chill and hurt in the devry cold of coming night. 
 She, therefore, arose, and began to wend her way 
 down the mound, tenderly bidding her charge 
 to follow. Ere the latter could well comply, a 
 sudden rush of feet, a hmTied movement, an 
 exclamation of admiration and devotion, a slight 
 scream of affightment — and she was detained. 
 
 " Well met, my pretty songstress ! Nay, fly 
 me not ! I will take thee to a fancy cage that 
 I have prepared for thee with such luxury as 
 befits thy pearliness withal," exclaimed he whom 
 we have called Sir John Perrot, with eyes 
 that flashed passion volcanicly, as he seized 
 the alai'med Aveline by one fairy arm. 
 
 *' Do ye come upon us as thieves at night- 
 time, or as strong mm'therers to slay?" cried the 
 matron, rushing to the aidance of her beloved 
 
 jp
 
 98 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 charge, and looking at the mtruders with a 
 fierce and singular intensity. 
 
 " Get thee gone, beldam, we want not thy 
 presence or thy interference !" cried Sir Ralph 
 Sadler, impatiently. 
 
 " Leave me go, sir ! What mean you by this 
 insult? Know ye who I am?" exclaimed 
 Aveline, excitedly. 
 
 " Certes, pretty one, that do I. Thou art the 
 most incomparable of thy witching sex I" said 
 Perrot, passionately. 
 
 " What want ye, ruffians and murtherers !" 
 cried the matron somewhat aghastly. *' Get ye 
 gone, and at once, or I will summon aid, and 
 have ye both dipped in yonder river for thy 
 knavishness." 
 
 " Please you, ancient dame, to be quiet in 
 thy action, and more careful of thy speech. Me- 
 thought but now I heard an angel singing, and 
 am come to seize it ere it 'scapes again to its 
 celestial home," retorted Perrot, while gazing 
 earnestly at the soft and plaintive beauty of the 
 indignant girl.
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 99 
 
 " For the Blessed Mother's sake release me ! 
 I am the daughter of Sit Thomas More," 
 exclaimed the latter, aflfrightedly, "who hath 
 the power, I trow, to punish all insult on his 
 beloved child." 
 
 '^ He hath at present enow and to spare of 
 trouble of his own, sweet lady, I'll warrant me. 
 And I must needs assert that, in sharing my 
 love, thou wilt assort thyself wellnigh with 
 royalty itself; so prithee bethink thee of my 
 ardent love for thee, which is cemented here in 
 my heart eternally : and do not, my bonnibelle, 
 compel me to force that which I would fain have 
 tliee grant of thy own free will, or by my loving 
 persuasion — thy departure with me." 
 
 " God and our Lady forbid ! Go with thee, 
 false craven, whoe'er thou be'est — never ! I 
 would sooner thou shouldst complish my death 
 here where I stand. But this insult shall not 
 pass. I command thee to release me/' ex- 
 claimed the indignant girl, starting away free, 
 and drawing herself up with a proud, undaunted 
 front. 
 
 F 2
 
 100 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 "Help — help! Here, Tomkins, Harris, 
 Oliver — where are ye, ye knaves ! Help ! for 
 Christ's grace, help us ! " shouted the alarmed 
 matron, wringing her hands. 
 
 " A murrain on thee, hag ! She will bellow 
 till we have the whole yelling pack upon us," 
 said Sadler, advancing threateningly towards 
 the aflfrighted and shrieking dame. 
 
 " Let her be — let her be ! In very sooth she 
 may exert her screech-owling to the utmost ; 
 for, by my halidome, the varlets whom she 
 would summon are too much absorbed in their 
 strong ale to pay much attention to such 
 womanly clamouring. Come, help me, comrade 
 mine. Take this syren by the other arm. 
 Gently, man, gently! We are not now skir- 
 mishing with the pig-headed, thick-hided Irish, 
 or the scum of Alsatia. There, that will do — 
 so, so, quietly. 
 
 And they bore the trembling, dismayed, and 
 shrieking girl, her complexion heightened to the 
 crimson hues of the peony, towards the shore 
 where lay the stranded boat and its attendant
 
 OK, THE MONKS OF OLD. 101 
 
 ruffianism. Was there none to save the Queen of 
 Chastity from the pollution of foul knight-errantry 
 — no good angel at hand to preserv^e kindred 
 innocence ? There seemed none ; — no help, 
 no hope for poor ruffled, fainting, bewildered 
 Avehne More. There appeared to be only one 
 resource left to her, one haven open to her, 
 though that was one from whose inexhaustible 
 fount help and protection ever flow to sustain 
 the universe — the temple of the Eternal — as 
 the lighting rays of the midday sun pervade 
 its own vast, unlimited sphere.
 
 102 BLACKFEIARS I 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ®rm funda 5n Wm* 
 
 SSHE reception or audience -chainber of the 
 monastery was situated within the range 
 of buildings known as the prior's lodg- 
 ings. It was a large oblong room, or gallery, 
 dull and somewhat dingy in appearance, its 
 gloominess to some extent being the effect of 
 the ancient arras hanging on the walls, which 
 represented scenes of Christian warfare and 
 martyrdom, as well as of the stained glass of its 
 three high but narrow oriel windows, which 
 looked out upon the small garden already 
 noticed, a happy and peaceful-looking spot, 
 and, in its trim shrub-grown and sunny nooks 
 assimilating in fancy those immortalized by 
 Virgil and Theocritus. The ceihng was of oak, 
 divided into compartments wherein were frescoed
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 103 
 
 various historical, poetical and mystical subjects 
 of quaint allegory. The furniture was of oak, 
 and consisted of two tall tables or desks, on 
 one of which lay open an illuminated copy of 
 the dialogues of St. Gregory, with divers other 
 ancient books, several high-backed chairs, three 
 presses with shelves well stored with a nume- 
 rous assortment of folios, quartos, and rolls, 
 enclosing the precious manuscripts and illumi- 
 nations of those days, and which were written 
 on vellum, linen, leather, or goatskin — the fore- 
 runners of universal printing and engra^dng — 
 religiously stored and guarded from damp, dust 
 and mischance. Within a deep-set reredosse, 
 or fire-place, blazed a pile of logs across massive 
 andirons ; for the air of the gloomy apartment 
 was chilly even amid the brightness and fresh- 
 ness of spring-time ; while, in lieu of carpet, the 
 oaken flooring was thickly- strewed with rushes. 
 Within this chamber, on the same afternoon 
 referred to in om^ last chapter, was assembled 
 a group of three personages, each in their way 
 worthy of mark and some passing notice. Two
 
 1 04 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 of them — the elders — were seated beside the 
 warm and blazing hearth engaged in an animated 
 discussion ; while the third, a much younger 
 man, stood apart within one of the recessed 
 windows, too much occupied, seemingly, in his 
 own quickly teeming thoughts to take part in 
 the discussion going on between his companions. 
 One of the latter was a striking, noble and vene- 
 rable-looking man of full sixty years of age. 
 His face, reflecting a mild and noble expression 
 of genius and goodness, was oval and full of 
 lightning intelligence, and, though of a some- 
 what olive hue, was lit up lustrously by his large, 
 dark keen eyes. His features were singularly 
 handsome, his looks penetrating, and his appear- 
 ance in all respects faultless. Robert Struddel, 
 the last Lord Prior of the Black Friars, was a 
 good man and a good monk, loved of good men, 
 and let us in all true charity believe of God also. 
 He was firmly imbued with self-abnegation, 
 fortitude, devotion, disinterestedness, solid and 
 fervent piety, and that true independence which 
 did not exclude the fihal obedience of a true
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 105 
 
 monk to the great head of his rehgion. 
 Thoughtful and reserved, '^ the rapt soul sitting 
 in his eyes " intimated a depth of feeling and 
 comprehensiveness of intellect beyond the range 
 of most cotemporary minds. Habitually silent, 
 yet when he spoke in his solemn and exquisitely 
 musical cadences, it seemed as if the spirit of 
 Plato revealed itself, or as though perchance 
 the Sybilline books were unfolded. He was a 
 man of few passions, and those of a mild and 
 easily subordinated order. Tenderly cherished 
 by his brethren, he took a paternal share in 
 their trials and crosses, provided carefully for 
 their temporal and spiritual necessities, and, 
 amid the peace of cloistral life, he endeavoured 
 to breathe the perfume of Heaven. Majestic 
 thoughts are, as it is well known, the offspring 
 of solitude. Plato meditated alone on the pro- 
 montory of Sunium, while Virgil was a Platonist. 
 So soon, therefore, as Brother Struddel became 
 prior, he sought to make his monastery a sort 
 of Christian Academy, and the principal centre 
 of the literary activity of the age. He had there
 
 106 BLACKFEIARS; 
 
 collected, considering the times in which he 
 lived, an immense store of literary and artistic 
 works. He pursued with the ardom' of Cosmo and 
 Lorenzo de Medici the search after rare manu- 
 scripts. He imposed upon his small array of 
 black-stoled monks a complete and severe plan 
 of study. His own lofty example enforced his 
 precepts, while instructing them with unwearied 
 zeal in the Holy Scriptures and devout history. 
 As a theologian, a philosopher, and an orator, 
 he was worthy to take his stand by that triple 
 title among the foremost men of even modern 
 times. He was, too, one of the great polemics of 
 the Middle Ages. A fertile composer, unwearied, 
 and profoundly learned, he ^\Tote many works, 
 which take an honourable rank in antique sacred 
 literature. This cenobite, this monastic patri- 
 arch, stood among the foremost and highest ofthe 
 learned and earnest Christians who had existed 
 since the six great days of the Hexameron. 
 We may sum him up by asserting that he had 
 the virtues of Cato, while possessing the 
 literary acquirements of Theophrastus — that he
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 107 
 
 was deservedly admired as an Aiistides iu 
 morals, and as a Boanerges in power of 
 speech. As beheld in the audience chamber 
 on the occasion we refer to, richly atth'ed in his 
 purple stole and robes of office, with an open 
 Evangehstarium on his lap, written in fine 
 uncial,* excited by the vocal contention in 
 which he was engaged, and remembering at 
 the same time his green old age, his world- 
 famed dilettanteism, his aversion to violence or 
 persecution, his generous and benevolent dis- 
 position, he might very fauiy have been 
 esteemed and honoured by both friend and foe 
 as among the number of the patriarchs of old. 
 
 His discursive companion was one to whom 
 Protestant England ought, from generation to 
 generation, unto the gi'eat day of doom itself, pay 
 all honour and tribute. He was a great spirit — 
 one destined to play a most memorable part in 
 the changeful drama of England's Reformation, 
 and whose, like all great names, holds a striking 
 
 * All early MSS. were written in uncial or capital 
 letters, without divisions or stops.
 
 108 BLACKFPJAKS ; 
 
 place in tlie map of history. The father of 
 this distinguished statesman followed the hum- 
 ble occupation of a cloth-shearer at the village 
 of Putney, in the fair county of Surrey. At 
 this, his native place, young Cromwell received 
 an imperfect education, and thereafter, prompted, 
 no doubt, by an ardour of disposition and some 
 ambitious yearnings, which combined, were 
 thereafter destined to open out to him a path 
 to the lofty station he subsequently Med 
 in his country's history, he left England and 
 proceeded to the continent. " In the autumn of 
 1615, a ragged stripling appeared at the door 
 of Frescobaldi's banking-house, at Florence, 
 begging for help. Frescobaldi had an estab- 
 lishment in London, with a large connection 
 there ; and seeing an English face, and seem- 
 ingly an honest one, he asked the boy who and 
 what he was. * I am, sir,' quoth he, ' of Eng- 
 land, and my name is Thomas Cromwell ; my 
 father is a poor man, and by occupation a cloth- 
 shearer. I am strayed from my country, and am 
 now come into Italy with the camp of French-
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 109 
 
 men that were overthrown at GarigHano, where 
 I was page to a footman, carrying after him his 
 pike and burganet.' Something in the boy's 
 manner attracted the banker's interest ; he 
 took him into his house, and after keeping him 
 there as long as he desired to stay, he gave him 
 a horse and sixteen ducats to help him home to 
 England."* It would appear he did not return 
 at that time to his native land, for we read that 
 at Antwerp he for several years found employ- 
 ment in an English factory. He afterwards 
 changed his vocation, and served under the 
 Duke of Bourbon — in what capacity does not 
 appear — and is reported to have been present 
 at the sack of Rome in 1528. This connection 
 may have had some influence in impressing his 
 mind with those reforming sentiments which he 
 not so long afterwards professed and finally pub- 
 licly avowed. 
 
 On returning to England, Thomas Cromwell 
 entered the illustrious service of Cardinal 
 
 * Fox, vol. v., p. 392.
 
 110 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 Wolsey, and in a short time became a confidant 
 of no mean kind. He must have quickly 
 studied the more simple process and maxims of 
 law in those times, as we find him, at the date 
 of our romance, filling the important office of 
 Secretary of Laws to the great cardinal. To 
 his master he was, from first to last, in afiection 
 and service, most devoted; and to prove how 
 truly this was the case, we have hut to record 
 one simple act, spealdng volumes in its way. 
 The actual part which Cromwell took on the 
 occasion of his master's fall, corresponded with 
 the tribute to his fidelity which Shakespeare puts 
 into the mouth of Wolsey. It is fitly recorded, 
 and to the honom- of the servant, that when the 
 fallen minister was unable to pay the lessened 
 retinue of his menials during his residence at 
 Esher, Cromwell proposed that a subscription 
 should be made among those who had in his 
 prosperity shared in the cardinal's bounty, — 
 which subscription was largely made and headed 
 in a considerable sum by Cromwell himself. 
 And again, on one other occasion, when the
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. Ill 
 
 heavy accusations against Wolsey, agreed to by 
 the House of Lords in November, 1529, came 
 down to the House of Commons, Cromwell 
 defended his master's cause, not only with great 
 astuteness, but with marked zeal, and in a style 
 which has not merely gained him honour post- 
 humously, but has been considered as the true 
 cause of Wolsey 's triumph over the ai'ticles at 
 that time exhibited against him, and which laid 
 the foundation for Cromwell's own advancement 
 subsequently at the court of the capricious 
 tyrant Henry. 
 
 During his roving and many-professioned 
 career, he had acquired the most extensive 
 knowledge of men and of the world, a tinge of 
 misanthropy not far alien to scorn of mankind, 
 and a facility of principles too nigh akin to in- 
 difference to any but such as best served his 
 own purposes and his own not too inordinate 
 ambition. In the countenance of this celebrated 
 personage was a strange admixture of subtle, 
 though smiling sagacity, combined with an 
 energy the most indomitable and determined.
 
 112 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 He was well-looking upon the whole, and his 
 figure, square and strong set, was robed in the 
 furred gown and cap adopted in those days by 
 the followers of the legal profession. Though 
 we have urged thus far somewhat in disparage- 
 ment of the future Earl of Essex's character, 
 we do not desire it should for a moment be 
 imagined that he was unblessed by any redeem- 
 ing quahties. On the contrary, it is well afiirmed 
 that Thomas Cromwell was capable of the most 
 generous and kindly emotions, was owner of 
 an iron nerve, and possessed a resolution which 
 no obstacles could baffle, and no difficulties 
 discourage. The combination of sincerity and 
 enthusiasm with the wise discretion which in 
 a statesman amounts to genius, is rare indeed. 
 Power cannot evoke it, nor can the wealth of 
 empires summon it into being. And yet he 
 possessed that blissful union of natural acquire- 
 ments. Well may it therefore be said that the 
 adherence of such men to a cause or a principle 
 turns the scale between success and failure to the 
 side or to the doctrine they uphold. A living
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 113 
 
 historian thus wi'ites of him : — "Cromwell had 
 struck the line on which the forces of nature 
 were truly moving — the resultant, not of the 
 victory of either of the extreme parties, but of 
 the joint action of their opposing forces. To 
 him belonged the rare privilege of genius, to 
 see what other men could not see ; and there- 
 fore he was condemned to rule a generation 
 which hated him, to do the will of God, and to 
 perish in his success. He had no party. By 
 the nobles he was regarded with the same mixed 
 contempt and fear which had been felt for 
 Wolsey."* These qualities of the future Yicar- 
 General fully attested themselves in his sub- 
 sequent career, when he stood forward as the 
 mainspring and active agent of the Reforma- 
 tion — the quickener of a more resplendent 
 torch than that which Prometheus lighted in 
 heaven ; but a torch which, like unto many 
 another inflammable material, was ere long 
 destined to destroy its maker and illuminator. 
 
 * Froude's History, vol ii. p. 192.
 
 lU 
 
 Indeed, already had he begun to realize, albeit 
 but faintly, the full crush of that order of 
 things, which, subjecting itself to the vast 
 uphea^ings of the Titanic human mind, was 
 convulsing to the veiy foundations the old 
 fabrics of feudalism and superstition. 
 
 The third personage in this chamber — the 
 youth self-engrossed within the window recess 
 — was a novice of the famous order of the 
 Knights Hospitallers of St. John, and was 
 atth-ed in the usual jerkin and breeches of buff 
 untanned leather, with the broad waist girdle 
 or belt, from which depended a hea^7, two- 
 handed sword, pertaining to the undi'ess of 
 that wai'like order. Over all was loosely 
 huno- the famed black-hooded robe, with a 
 large white cross on the left breast, which 
 mai'kedly pointed out to public inquisition 
 the presence of these wai'rior monks, — of 
 whose chivalry Burke, while writing of the 
 crusades, describes after the following fashion 
 to be " the generous loyalty to rank and sex, 
 the proud submission, the dignified obedience,
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 115 
 
 and that subordination of the heai't which kept 
 alive, even in sohtude itself, the spuit of an 
 exalted freedom; that sensibility of principle, 
 that chastity of honour, which felt a stain Hke 
 a wound, which inspu*ed courage, whilst it 
 mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it 
 touched, and under which \dce itself lost half 
 its evil by losing all its grossness." Indeed, of 
 these brave monk-knights it may be said, they 
 were the very mirrors of chivalry, and in whom, 
 in the hour of conflict or danger — 
 
 " instead of rage 
 Deliberate valour breathed firai and nnmoved, 
 With dread of death, to flight or foul retreat." 
 
 Tall, strongly-made, and athletic in form, 
 the young knight of whom we are now making 
 mention, and of whom more anon, presented a 
 striking contrast to the patriarchal prior, and 
 to the astute lawgiver and statesman, his 
 companions. He possessed a form and visage 
 which would have riveted the admiration of a 
 painter or a sculptor, ofiering, as they did, an
 
 116 BLACKFRIAKS; 
 
 ideal of the youthful Achilles. He was young, as 
 already set forth, and of singularly prepossessing 
 appearance, with a countenance full of fiery 
 spirit, and blooming with health. His long, 
 black hair — the Knights of St. John did not 
 always affect the cropping and tonsure of the 
 general monkhood — shaded well the finely 
 carved and regular features of the face. The 
 dark, glowing complexion indicated a somewhat 
 passionate temperament, while in the expression 
 of the full eyes there was a tinge of haughty 
 melancholy that appeared remarkable in a man 
 who was evidently so young. He was engaged 
 in a reverie of youth, listening, no doubt, to the 
 music of its wild vanities and romantic follies 
 — though it was a reverie soon to be engnilphed 
 in stern realities ; and as such let it pass.
 
 OE, THE MO^'KS OF OLD. 117 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 Comiuj €hmi$ tast llKir Sljabotus ^rforc. 
 
 a T MARVEL not, my Lord Prior, that thou 
 starest thus amazedly," said Thomas 
 Cromwell to the reverend personage with whom 
 we have already announced him to be in close 
 confabulation, and who was of a truth gazing, 
 with something like aghast attention, at what 
 the great cardinal's secretary and envoy had 
 previously disclosed. 
 
 ^' I am most certes amazed, and of a troth 
 sorely aggrieved, to perceive the graspy greed 
 with which we of the Church are set upon, 
 sithence we are fined and taxed in all imagin- 
 able mulcts, and with scant courtesy or justice 
 withal," returned the prior with a profound sigh. 
 " Such a sum as that thou namest would well- 
 nigh ruin the poor houses of London. Besides,
 
 118 
 
 bethink you, Master Cromwell, that we are 
 exempt, by the most mighty and readable 
 charters, of all levy and impost ; and methinks 
 it cannot be the lord legate's pleasure to force 
 an infringement of our ancient charters to our 
 undoing." 
 
 " Thou must urge such pleas of thyself to 
 his Grace, my lord. I do but inform you of 
 this mispleasant matter, in all kindliness and 
 favour, wotting well that ye of Blackfriars stand 
 high in worldly esteem with the powers that 
 be. And as my duty led me thither to deliver 
 unto you his Grace's mandatory that ye will 
 have your chapter-house and its belongings 
 prepared as heretofore for the re-assembling, 
 on the morrow, of the High Court of Divorce, 
 I esteemed it not altogether ill-chosen, my lord 
 monk, to do thee a service, though it may have 
 been, perchance, in unadvised openness; for- 
 asmuch as it needs not I should now remind 
 thee I am in general, no great favourer of your 
 monksties," urged Cromwell with a good- 
 humoured, but significant smile.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 119 
 
 " I know it, son, and am sorely hurt thereat,' 
 said the prior mildly. "And in that, perchance, 
 thou doth but shadow thy dread master's lean- 
 ings, seeing he hath already attacked our 
 ancient monachal institution, by sacrilegiously 
 destroying, in this land, many of its sacred 
 conventicles." 
 
 Such was the fact. The fiat had gone forth, 
 the ruin and purloining of the rehgious houses 
 and their sources of wealth had begun. Wolsey 
 had, up to this time, suppressed, in different 
 parts of the kingdom, some fifty of the smaller 
 establishments, and applied then- revenues to 
 swell his own vast store — an example which 
 his grasping, avaricious master was not long 
 or slow in imitating. 
 
 " You hke not, I trow, the signs of the times, 
 or the portents of the future, which are driving 
 all cloistral priests into a cleft stick. You 
 would, my Lord Prior, transform the whole world 
 into one vast cloister, peopled by unwilling 
 monks, and so create, beforehand, forsooth, to 
 wondi'ous perfection, a counterfeit hell."
 
 120 
 
 " Heaven of its grace pardon thy words, my 
 son. You speak what you know not, and of 
 some feverish fancy," said the venerable monk 
 with visible emotion. " Our institution is the 
 glorious centre of light, knowledge and life, 
 despite the ravings and false -leasings of the 
 world. It was founded and first inaugurated 
 by the Anthonys, the Hilarious, the Basils, and 
 the Chrysostoms of the blessed ancient days, 
 and has been enlarged and magnified by the 
 Athanasians, the Jeromes, the Augustines, the 
 Martins and the Benedicts of later ages. 
 Witness of thyself, and to thy master, of that 
 imposing train of saints, pontiffs, doctors, 
 missionaries, artists, masters of word and deed 
 who have, from age to age, issued forth of the 
 crowded ranks of the monastic orders. But 
 what need I, a poor shaken servant of Christ, 
 to speak vauntily of those heroic spirits in faith 
 of past times ? Their miraculous conversions, 
 their suffering poverty, literally evangelical, 
 their labours, their prodigious austerities, and 
 their miracles, are they not all written in lines
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 121 
 
 of immortal hue, and graven in eternal memory 
 by the eloquence of St. Athanasius, St. Jerome, 
 St. Ephrem, and others, the blessed teachers, 
 recorders, and martyrs ?" 
 
 •'I am not deft at guessing riddles, and, 
 therefore, will not gainsay thee, good father, 
 in what thou urgest on behalf of the ancient 
 virtue and robust health of the earliest days of 
 thy monkish system ; but, in these latter times, 
 foul diseases and leprous sores have crept in, 
 and must be rooted out. Beshrew me, violent 
 diseases must enforce violent remedies," said 
 Cromwell, with a caustic smile. 
 
 " I am ready, Master Cromwell, to acknow- 
 ledge we monks are not perfect, and that 
 manifold abuses have crept in among us. But, 
 prithee, son, reflect that nothing human is 
 perfect, and man, of all created atoms, the least 
 so. Too many there be, in modern times, 
 among ye of the world, who take pleasure in 
 seaixhing out the disorders and vices by which 
 our sanctuaries of piety and miser}^ are some- 
 times profaned. Ye who cry out, too, so lustily 
 
 G
 
 122 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 against monastical abuses, who reproach us 
 monks with having degenerated from our primi- 
 tive fervour, and with no longer resembhng our 
 founders, forget, marvellously enow, that most 
 modern Christians possess still smaller assimi- 
 lation to the Christians of the early churches." 
 
 " Nathless, lord prior, these same religious 
 institutions, whose part you so sagely advocate, 
 have signed their own death-warrant. The 
 days of their decadence and ultimate ruin is at 
 hand. Of a surety, even now are the major 
 part of them only spiritual corpses, and their 
 own living tombs," retorted Cromwell, coolly. 
 
 " You and those you serve are false philoso- 
 phers, base sycophants of oppression — modern 
 Vandals. Ye would fatten on our spoil, and 
 insult us in the deed," exclaimed the prior, with 
 indignant vehemence. 
 
 " Very churchmanly answered," said Crom- 
 well, somewhat mockingly. " I'se warrant me, 
 good my lord prior, you would assert the 
 accumulation of proofs we hold of the hideous 
 leprosy of the monastic order are nought but
 
 123 
 
 false leasings and wicked inventions, and that 
 ye monks, persecuted so harshly and wrongly, 
 are all true Elijahs." 
 
 " I cannot hope, though certes I do not 
 dread, to share any portion of that glorious 
 martyr's trials, death, and crown," answered 
 the stately prior, humbly. But he, then, with 
 vehemence and some haughtiness, added, 
 " Who are you, sir, to jeer thus unreasonably 
 at us ? Ha ! I am well-minded thou art sup- 
 posed to be of this accursed new order, whom 
 men call Lutherans, I take it, Master Secre- 
 tary, that this prodigious revolt of your new- 
 fangled creed is a visible punishment for our 
 shortcomings." 
 
 " Say you so, lord monk. I wot well thou 
 speakest no mean truth in that," said Cromwell, 
 with a well-pleased smile. " By Dian's curd- 
 white visage, thou art attuning thyself to the 
 new order of things. Let me urge thee, my 
 lord, as one who beareth an interest in thy 
 earthly weal, to look well to the obligations of 
 your order, and see that deeds are not wrought 
 
 g2
 
 124 BLACKFRIAES; 
 
 within these precincts, that will, certes, bring an 
 inquisitor thitherward, to report and bear wit- 
 ness against thee. Bethink thee of the black 
 sheep at Westminster, how amazedly the visitor 
 I placed there by the Cardinal's commands ob- 
 tained insight into abominations and abuses, 
 the like of which Dame Rumour had never 
 aforetime avouched." 
 
 " He suffered for his temerity, Master Crom- 
 well," returned the prior, mockingly. 
 
 " As a martyr, 'tis true, he died upon the 
 stake," said Cromwell, with visible emotion. 
 '* Poor Raphael Roodspere ! I loved that youth; 
 and I wot well for many a long day after his 
 cruel death I never had my eyes well a- dry. 
 Yet he suflfered for l^is faith, and, God wot, so 
 may I." 
 
 " We must all bear our destiny, I trow. Master 
 Cromwell, and we monks, persecuted in these 
 times, not the least so. But, of a truth, God's 
 justice is oftimes served by man's injustice. I 
 am of myself so tossed to and fro by the waves 
 of this world, that I must needs despair of being
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 125 
 
 able to guide to port this stout old vessel with 
 which God hath charged me. Yet must I still 
 hold the helm, even though it be amid a 
 thousand shoahng dangers. My ears, methinks, 
 already detect the bell of shipwreck tolhng afar. 
 Verily I could weep, when I look back to the 
 peaceful shore this tme bark of ours one time 
 floated nigh; and do ever sigh, in perceiving 
 afar that haven which, in this despoiled land, 
 we shall never, it misgives me, sail into." 
 
 " Nay, good my lord prior and dear father, 
 thou judgest unadvisedly," exclaimed the young 
 knight of St. John, starting from his inactive 
 silence, as his eai^s became suddenly attent to the 
 theological concussion of his elders, and while he 
 approached the dogmatic combatants, and knelt 
 on one knee, taking the aged prior's hand in his. 
 " Out upon thee, daft Lollard ! who ordereth thy 
 words according to the mandate of thy twain- 
 mastership — the gi'asping Cardinal and the 
 t}Tant King." 
 
 " Hush, prithee, my dear son," said the prior, 
 with a waim smile. " Laus Deo semper, ^ye
 
 126 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 must all bear our crosses; and, if we are re- 
 viled, we must not revile again." 
 
 " Antique heroism is made, as it were, of 
 marble and bronze ; we admire, but we do not 
 imitate it," said Cromwell, with a short laugh. 
 
 " Stay thy scurvy tongue, base layman ! or, I 
 warrant me, I'll not hesitate long in the slitting 
 of it," impetuously responded the knight of St. 
 John, as he started to his feet, and drew his 
 well-knit figure erect, his large eyes flashing 
 with eagle fierceness. 
 
 " Gad's my life ! thou quickly strikest fire, 
 my young spark," said Cromwell, imperturbably, 
 while regarding his youthful and haughty anta- 
 gonist with the eye of a connoisseur. 
 
 " And when I flash. Sir Stranger, my steel is 
 wont to wreak its thirst in blood," angrily re- 
 torted the young knight. 
 
 " I command thee peace, son Richard. 
 Would ye by an unseemly brawl give men occa- 
 sion to speak further ill concerning our already 
 prejudged institution," interposed Prior Strud- 
 dell, with easy dignity.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 127 
 
 " Let him bide, my lord," said Cromwell, still 
 eyeing the young knight, approvingly ; '' me- 
 likes to see vigorous natui'e in so blooming a 
 guise. Thou did'st call him Plantagenet; is he 
 a descendant of that kingly, and, methought, 
 extinct race ? 
 
 '^ That am I, Master Cromwell, for so it be- 
 seems thou art named, and, being so, am as 
 httle Hkely as my foreparents of old to brook 
 insult or suffer importunate curiosity. The 
 blood of those warriors flows in my veins," ex- 
 claimed the young knight, turning on his heel 
 and regaining his former post of seemingly 
 watchful observance. 
 
 ^' 'Tis goodly mettle, my lord. It rings ster- 
 lingly well," said Cromwell. "But I mismind 
 me that time is no laggart ; so, an it please you, 
 I will depai't, only again preferring his Grace 
 the Cardinal's enjoinings, that thou hast all 
 things in readiness for the morrow's resitting of 
 the court." 
 
 " All shall be ordered as before; and may God's 
 will be done even in this !" retm'ned the prior.
 
 ] 28 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 "That do, my lord prior; and thou mayest 
 find favour for thy house in the great time of 
 disruption coming anon. I ofifer thee my hand, 
 and bid thee in all earnestness God speed," 
 said Cromwell, rising and suiting the action to 
 the word. 
 
 ''Benedicite, Master Cromwell. Thou ai't very 
 welcome to come and go thitherward as it 
 pleaseth thee. Thou wilt find our Almoner 
 without, who will conduct you to the hospitium, 
 where thou mayest procure from the Refectioner 
 some coffee with spices, or a cup of sherris 
 and a manchet to satisfy the yearnings of the 
 flesh." 
 
 " I would clench hands with yon bold war- 
 rior monk, an it please him," said Cromwell, 
 regarding the young knight with keen interest. 
 " He would make a rare subject, I warrant, for 
 the king's cunning limnour, Hans Holbein, to 
 sketch from." 
 
 But the young knight stood haughtily aloof; 
 and his Grace's Secretary was enforced to depart 
 without the friendly attestation to his visit he
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 129 
 
 sought. As soon as he was gone, the lord 
 prior demanded — 
 
 "How hke you, son Eichard, the Cardinars 
 Secretary of Laws?" 
 
 " A bold man and fearless, and one whose 
 actions 'twere well to watch and dread, though 
 he were even gaged in a less cause," replied the 
 youthful knight. 
 
 " But now, good my son, let us revert a while 
 to thine own affairs, our discourse whereon was 
 so ill-omenedly distui'bed by Master Cromwell. 
 Your superior, the reverend and worshipful 
 Grand Master, Sir William Weston, bids me 
 give thee sanctuary and aidance for a time, 
 sithence some danger impends," said the vene- 
 rable prior, after he had with some difficulty 
 re-perused certain commendatory hieroglyphics 
 sketched on a piece of parchment, which had 
 been fastened by a skein of floss silk, and sealed 
 in resin and wax with the signet of the great 
 commandery of St. John. 
 
 " In very sooth, that is the occasion of my 
 visit, good father. Though well I wot I was 
 
 G 3
 
 130 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 loth to leave our commandery, for howsoever so 
 short a time ; sithence the King nor his myr- 
 midons dare assail a knight among his haught 
 comrades of St. John," answered Richard Plan- 
 tagenet. 
 
 " This king is not slow to anger ; and well 
 hast thou, therefore, done in coming hither, 
 where, as thou knowest, good youth, thou art 
 welcome to tarry so long as it pleaseth thee,'* 
 said the stately monk, with unusual kindliness 
 in his tones. " Thou hast, it beseems, been 
 somewhat too free of speech, and hast ventured 
 o'er-publicly to call in question the unsavoury 
 acts of our present ill- doing royalty." 
 
 *' And thinks the blood-stained monster to 
 curb the tongue and chain the will of a free- 
 born Briton ? Let him try an he will. I 
 can well assert, by St. George and the Holy 
 Sepulchre, he will not mine," cried the knight 
 of St. John, impetuously ; for his will and his 
 thoughts were ever as direct as the arrow to its 
 mark. 
 
 "Prithee be chary of thy speech, I urge
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 131 
 
 thee, dear youth, in all beseechance, lest a worse 
 evil befal thee," said the Prior, in his calm, 
 mellow, earnest tones. 
 
 " In all I do, I seek but to uphold my bkth- 
 right. I covet no triumph over the mean herd 
 of men ; for if, perchance, I were to toss my 
 head too high, I might miss my footing, and 
 stumble fatally from my own weak attempts to 
 soar. But most certes, dear father, will I do 
 naught to injure thee; though ever most stoutly 
 will I maintain my privileges, be death or hfe 
 my speed. By no act of mine shall this unjust 
 and tyrannous usui'per of my father's heritage 
 receive homage or lip-service. But cry you 
 mercy, my kind lord ; I will now depart, bearing 
 to Sir Thomas More my missive of intro- 
 duction, and will return anon to accept of thy 
 hospitahty." 
 
 " Do so, fail' son ; our Almoner shall receive 
 special instruction for thy comfort ; meanwhile, 
 farewell. Dominus vohiscum.
 
 132 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ^tmxt or ^0 "^mm* 
 
 jiaiCHARD PLANTAGENET, on quitting 
 the presence of the lord prior, passed 
 forth from the monastery, and penetrated the 
 thickly hemmed-in Wilderness towards the 
 direction where lay the ancient mansion of Sir 
 Thomas More. Busy with his own active 
 thoughts, he strolled leisurely along, noting 
 little that transpned on either hand, until he 
 reached the ancient porch which stood boldly 
 out from the main building of the Manor-house. 
 Seizing a hammer, suspended for the purpose 
 to the oaken lintel, he knocked at the thick 
 door with the energy of a modern postman. A 
 lazy, yawning, over-fed Cerberus in due course 
 presented himself as he opened the wide door- 
 way, from whom he gleaned the information
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 133 
 
 that Sir Thomas More, though not then within, 
 was expected during the evening, and that 
 Mistress More would be found on the terrace or 
 within the gardens. AvaiHng himself of this 
 knowledge, the young knight passed through 
 the wide and lofty hall, panneled and floored 
 throughout with dark oak, and emerged by a 
 stained-glass doorway on to the pleasant though 
 neglected terrace. Arrived thither, he of a 
 sudden became alive to some unseemly dis- 
 putation taldng place in a far aloof part of the 
 garden, in which female voices in sore distress 
 and afiiightment could be easily recognized. 
 With his mind running into a sudden and pain- 
 ful chaos, his heart beating with a wild flutter, 
 he sprang hastily forward in the direction 
 whence came the pregnant sounds. 
 
 "For om- Blest Mother's sake, release me, sir ! 
 Nay, this shall not be. I am not unfriended, 
 and you shall rue this insult," exclaimed 
 the excited and trembhng voice of x^veline 
 More. 
 
 "Hark to her gentle chiding; it sounds
 
 134 BLACORIAES ; 
 
 more tuneful than my best hounds' bay. Thou 
 needest not be ashamed to win my love, Dulci- 
 belle, or to hear it now envowed in words that 
 breathe naught of woe or fear, I trow. This 
 venture were worth my week's watching, and 
 all its ill consequences to boot. But, Sadler, we 
 must summon Koche and his lieutenant from 
 the boat, sithence this ancient dame doth 
 cling around me with the sinewy hug of a bear. 
 Thunder and bombards, give them their cue, 
 comrade mine ; and let them ease me and help 
 the devil to this shrivelled piece of human flesh 
 and bone. 
 
 But Aveline's shrieks and struggles were not 
 destined to remain any longer unheeded, for 
 the young Hospitaller rushed forward to the 
 rescue with a will and a force there was no 
 resisting. He reached the two bold ravishers ; 
 and, in a trice, with his clenched fist struck to 
 the ground Sir Ralph Sadler, who was the 
 foremost ; while in another he had seized the 
 struggling Aveline with his left arm, and stood 
 confronting the tall, thick-set form of Sir John
 
 OR, THE MOTs^KS OF OLD. 135 
 
 Perrot, with his drawn sword, the which, how- 
 ever, he kept with its point towards the ground, 
 until he should be enforced to use it in self- 
 defence. 
 
 '^ Out on ye, and, by the Holy Sepulchre ! foul 
 shame hght on ye, whoe'er ye be," he indig- 
 nantly exclaimed, as he closely scrutinized his 
 opponents. 
 
 " Thunder and wounds ! what means this 
 knavish intermeddling?" exclaimed Sir John 
 Perrot, after he had sufficiently recovered from 
 the surprise of the Hospitaller's sudden on- 
 slaught. " Prate not to me, Sh* Springall, but 
 look to thyself. The devil caiTy thee, say I, 
 sithence thou mayest be some spy or delator 
 skulking in yon sanctuary town of Blackfriars ; 
 and, by my faith ! 'tis not likely, after coming so 
 far and a seeking so long, that I shall leave my 
 fairy prize to thy doubtful soothings. So fellow 
 unhand the damsel, and get thee gone, unless 
 thou lookest for rough treatment, in the which 
 case may God assoil thee ! Thou wilt but 
 then reqmre the wholesale purveyor of winding
 
 136 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 sheets to take thy bedabbled carcase into its 
 tet keeping." 
 
 *^Let us upon him, beau sire, at once. 
 'Twere ill tarrying longer ; and see yonder, by 
 the mass! come those sluggish hirelings of 
 thine," exclaimed Sadler, after picking himself 
 up from his rough descent to mother earth, and 
 then, while drawing his sword, he rushed on the 
 young knight. 
 
 The latter, seeing a brawl inevitable, handed 
 over the semi-conscious Aveline to the now 
 somewhat re-assured matron, with imperative 
 injunctions she would bear her burthen speedily 
 to the house, while hk endeavoured to protect 
 their retreat. He had barely time to assume 
 the defensive, by placing his back to the rear of 
 the arbour, ere both his resolute opponents 
 were upon him. He, however, faced them boldly 
 and defiantly, shouting, " Who dares approach 
 is aweary of the world ; for, by this hand, there 
 is no music like clashing steel !" 
 
 Men existed in those days very different in 
 hardihood of frame and personal strength from
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 137 
 
 the silken sybarites of subsequent reigns, ener- 
 vated, as the latter were, by constant riot and 
 dissipation, and who but aped the deeds of 
 strength and daring of their ancestors. Pdchard 
 Plantagenet could toss the pike, couch the 
 lance, and wield the sword, the battle-axe, or 
 the mace, better than most of his compeers at 
 a like age, even in those most martial times. 
 The tilt-yard, the tennis-court, and the battle- 
 field, had been, from his earliest days, his 
 constant exercise and places of resort. The 
 pure flame of chivahy burnt undimmed within 
 his breast, and inspired all his achievements. 
 He fully recognized its high and ennobling 
 principles, and accepted very readily the mani- 
 fold obligations they imposed. On this occasion 
 he not only had the advantage of doing duty in 
 a good cause, but was armed with one of those 
 formidable straight swords, which,-when wielded 
 by a young and vigorous arm like his, in a great 
 measure counterbalanced the odds which were 
 so decidedly adverse to him, for both his oppo- 
 nents were powerful and determined men, well
 
 138 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 versed in the use of their Hghter and less 
 formidable weapons, and not easily thwarted in 
 their resolve or designs. 
 
 Sir Ralph Sadler was the first to make an 
 onset, by delivering a desperate lunge at 
 Plantagenet, who, having kept his eye cau- 
 tiously on the movements of both opponents, 
 was not, however, taken at a disadvantage. 
 Sir John Perrot seemed determined to fight 
 his way past and stay the young girl's retreat, 
 as he quickly seconded the assault. Delay was 
 the young knight's object; so, for a while he 
 contented himself by parrying, with great 
 address and skill, the blows hastily aimed at 
 him, without attempting to retaliate. For some 
 minutes the conflict, with its various passages 
 of assault and defence, guard and counter- 
 guard, continued, without material advantage to 
 either side. To prevent Perrot succeeding in 
 his efforts to pass, Plantagenet retreated a few 
 paces at first, but then suddenly charging 
 fiercely in turn, he speedily won back the lost 
 ground. Stoccatas, imbroccatas, drittas, man-
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 139 
 
 drittas, and riversas were exchanged between 
 the three combatants with the speed of hght- 
 ning, and as well beseemed those trained to 
 martial exercises. 
 
 The two myrmidons, well armed, now arrived 
 on the spot, whom Sir John Perrot discerning, 
 dispatched in all haste after the slowly retreating 
 form of Aveline. Determined the foul abduc- 
 tion should not take place so long as strength 
 or life remained to him, the young knight forced 
 the fighting with a more determined purpose. 
 Adry with fury, through the determined resist- 
 ance thus unexpectedly ofiered to his schemes. 
 Sir John Perrot equally resolved to terminate 
 the fight, and finding his antagonist constantly 
 upon some sure ward or another, he endeavoured 
 to drive home a half incartata; but, instantly 
 shifting his position with marvellous dexterity, 
 the young knight struck down the other's blade, 
 and replied with a straight thrust, which must 
 infallibly have drawn the hfe-blood of his im- 
 petuous opponent, had not his weapon been 
 beaten down and the point broken off by Sir
 
 140 
 
 Ralph Sadler, tlius increasing the odds most 
 immeasurably. But, with the heavy hilt and 
 the fragment of the blade, the young knight 
 still fought on — now guarding quickly, now 
 throwing out an herculean cut, which made first 
 one and then the other of his assailants start 
 quickly back, still manfully contending against 
 the unequal onslaught as befitted one trained 
 to chivalry. The whole time of this unequal 
 contention had barely lasted five minutes, but 
 it soon became evident it was drawing to a 
 close, and that the young knight with his 
 broken weapon would, ere long, be at the mercy 
 of his determined adversaries. While, to add 
 to his dismay, he heard the renewed shrieks of 
 Aveline, as the two myrmidons, in pursuance of 
 their instructions, seized upon and dragged her 
 quickly towards the shore. He looked furtively 
 around with many a querent glance, in antici- 
 pation of coming aidance, which, to all seeming, 
 was a satisfaction far out of hope.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 141 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 liROMWELL, after leaving the audience 
 chamber, passed, through a small ante- 
 room, called the locutory, into the lai'ge 
 cloister, where, awaiting his departure, he 
 found a spare, dull-looking monk, gai'bed in 
 the black robe and white scapulary pertaining 
 to the Dominican order, whose countenance 
 was emaciated and withered, as if by some 
 consuming inward cark. 
 
 "Ha! Master Treasurer Agilus; how well 
 thou wearest ! " exclaimed Cromwell, with a 
 sarcastic smile. 
 
 '^ In God's blessed name, Master Secretary, 
 what do ye here?" said the monkish official, in 
 some wild dismay, 
 
 " Why ? Doth my coming affinght thee, Dan
 
 142 
 
 Treasurer," retorted Cromwell, with another 
 smile. "Ye, of a surety, lack nothing of 
 valour, or holy prayers, or powerful saints." 
 
 "It is well known thou art no favourer of 
 our sacred asylums," replied the treasurer 
 Agilus, in a still, timorous tone. 
 
 " That am I not ; and ye losel monks all seem 
 to wot it well; and, moreover, look upon my 
 coming amongst ye much like the vengeful 
 angel amid a flock of Sathanites," said Crom- 
 well. 
 
 " Master Secretary, I pray you jest not with 
 me on such misfortunate subjects," said the 
 treasurer, 
 
 *' Why ! who have we here ? two conventuals 
 of goodly form and condition, I trow ; and, 
 gadzooks ! there are a multitude of your black 
 cattle moving hither and thither. What hast 
 set the hive all astir after this fashion ? Are 
 ye keeping jocund holiday ; or am I a hornet 
 in your nest to disturb ye thus ?" said Crom- 
 well, with a flush of satisfaction. 
 
 " What new tribulation would my lord Car-
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 143 
 
 dinal inflict upon us, the woful and unofiending 
 children of St. John ?" said the treasurer. 
 
 Ere Cromwell could make an answer to this 
 timid inquuT, the two friars he had noticed had 
 approached. One was a monk of peculiar outward 
 characteristics. An expression of hypocritical 
 humility overspread his demure but sensual- 
 looking face, which needed not the lurking smile 
 of better omen, or the cunning glancing of the 
 downcast eyes, to announce as false to one so 
 well versed in human physiognomy as Cromwell. 
 The purple scapulary he wore, and the un- 
 tanned purse of leather at his girdle, announced 
 him to be the Almoner of the monastery. The 
 other was a fat, jovial monk, with a large purple 
 visage shining all over with the oil of plenty, 
 and an overflowing excrescence of humour. 
 Appended to a belt around his ample paunch 
 was a mighty bunch of glistening keys, which 
 acknowledged him lord of the cellar and buttery, 
 and, indeed, he was officially designated the 
 Refectioner, or Cellai'er. 
 
 " Cry you mercy, my lord Cellarer ; how well
 
 144 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 thou keepest thy body attuned. And thou, Dan 
 Almoner, art not much amiss on tlie score of 
 good keeping. Now, I warrant me, neither of 
 ye lord monks have suflfered a fast for many a 
 day," exclaimed Cromwell, eyeing the pair with 
 a humorous expression. 
 
 '^ Benedicite, Master Cromwell! Thou art as 
 full of thy unctuous witticisms as ever it mindeth 
 me," said the fat cellarer, with a humorous 
 cock of his eye at the austere-looking Treasurer. 
 
 The latter, now seeing their unwelcome guest 
 in proper hands, dismissed himself from further 
 accompaniment by exclaiming, ere he turned 
 backward, " Benedicite, Master Cromwell ! I now 
 depart, leaving thee in sure hands. Brother 
 Hildebert, who is now hospitaller, and our 
 reverend father's guest-master for the month, 
 will conduct you to the hospitium, and there 
 provide for the cravings of your stomach." 
 
 " This way. Master Secretary," cried the 
 almoner Hildebert, as the treasurer departed. 
 " This w^ay, so please you, and I will conduct 
 and entertain you as a most honoured guest."
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 145 
 
 ^'Lead on, good brother; for I have need of 
 something to appease my appetite after so long a 
 fast," said Cromwell. And he was conducted in 
 due form to the visitor's buttery hatch, within the 
 hostel, the walls whereof were hung with dried 
 herbs and simples, and where, ere long, was laid 
 upon the well-whitened board, by the Manciple 
 or steward of the kitchen, some cold brawn 
 and pasties, with hoops of ale, barley bannocks, 
 and snow bread. 
 
 " Come, come. Brother Launcelot, my jolly 
 cellarer, join in. Thou art not, surely, shy 
 when thou art, as well I wot, so much 
 athirst. Drink thou a bumper and God-speed 
 to thy visitor, most worthy friar," exclaimed 
 Cromwell, as he appeased his stomach cravings 
 after no Lilliputian fashion, and smiling the 
 while at the gluttonous professor of monker}\ 
 
 '' Laud be to our Lady, I will not say thee 
 nay," said the fat and jovial cellarer, suiting the 
 action to the word, and imbibing freely of the 
 jug of frothy old ale. 
 
 " But, prithee, my lord monk, where is thy 
 
 H
 
 146 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 sub-prior, the learned and hermit-like Lan 
 Theodulph, whom report doth ever affirm leads 
 a peculiarly mortified life, and who hath an eye, 
 nathedoubt, on the priorate of this monastery T 
 asked Cromwell. 
 
 " He is, I trow, making prayer and confession 
 in the sub-chapel of our Blessed Lady, or, 
 mayhap, issuing his decretals to the sacristan," 
 replied the almoner, Dan Hildebert. 
 
 " Then I pray thee, good brother, hasten to 
 him, and tell him his Grace the Cardinal's 
 secretary desires speech of him, and cannot 
 tarry overlong." 
 
 The almoner departed on his eiTand with 
 wonderful alacrity. It was cleai' the learned 
 Secretary of Laws to his Grace the great Cardinal 
 w^as held in no small fear or estimation by these 
 conventuals. 
 
 " Does this sub-prior of yours, my jolly cel- 
 larer, enforce the abstinence and prayerful 
 humility I am informed he affects — the beatified 
 aberrations of conventual ascetism?" inquired 
 Cromwell, with a curt smile.
 
 OE, THE M0:N"KS OF OLD. 147 
 
 •' It takes much, marry, good Master Crom- 
 well, to subdue the flesh in men — in some men 
 more than in others, belike," replied Dan 
 Launcelot, with an expression of hypocritical 
 humility, and a knowing movement of his eyes. 
 " As for Brother Theodulph, we are not much 
 akin, for he seldom affects the company of the 
 general brotherhood, though he is a strict 
 enjoiner of the obligations of our order." 
 
 " You mean, in good sooth, to say. Brother 
 Launcelot, that he plays the schoolmaster 
 among ye. And I doubt not he is right," said 
 Cromwell. '* But what ails Fra Agilus ? gad- 
 zooks ! he seems as one possessed of some 
 devilish spirit, or as one ordered for fright and 
 punishment, so distraught and ill-omened looks 
 his visage, and so exhaust his body." 
 
 " In good sooth, I know not what to deem : 
 of a verity some evil haunts him," replied the 
 jolly cellarer, with evident inconsequence and 
 perturbation. " He hath of late frequented the 
 society of Castle Baynard, wherein Raimond 
 Yerstegans pursues his fearful study of the 
 
 H 2
 
 118 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 planets, and unrols the dreaded web of human 
 life, and to whom, they do assert, the stars 
 speak as they wander through the skies of 
 night. Perchance, Brother Agilus hath there 
 had propounded to him some hideous dream 
 of the future, at which he quakes and pines 
 as at some more horrible spectre." 
 
 " After yisiting the manor-house, where Sir 
 Thomas More hath his retreat within your 
 precincts — a fancy on his part which hath, I 
 trow, given occasion, in the Court and elsewhere, 
 for much license of talk and ribald joking,'' said 
 Cromwell, '• I will on to this wondrous man 
 of starry science. But first it needs must that 
 I have my wordy exchange with your sub-prior, 
 who tarrieth somewhat in his coming." 
 
 " He is busied, perhaps, with his deifical 
 contemplations," said the cellarer. " He seems 
 of late most marvellously commoved, and doth 
 affect the like looks and demeanour as he of 
 whom you mai^ked just now — Brother Agilus — 
 who is. as thou perchance knowest, for a while 
 our treasurer and stern archidiaconus.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 149 
 
 " What ! Hath ])an Theodulph been con- 
 sulting, too, witli this demonological astrologer ? 
 Methought he might have done well in exer- 
 cising certain wierd-hke powers of himself, 
 without foreign aidance," said Cromwell sur- 
 prisedly. '' But he must not prate to me his 
 vain legends and gossips* tales, which, nathe- 
 doubt, reflect the tricks of the old miracle- 
 mongers."' 
 
 "Hush, Master Secretaiy; me thinks I hear 
 his soundless footfall," exclaimed Dan Launcelot, 
 in a cautious whisper. 
 
 The warning was w^elLtimed; for the next 
 moment a figure of somewhat stern visage, and, 
 withal, pecuUar significance, with his chaplet 
 hung at his guxlle, and his cowl fallen back, 
 displaying the corona clericalis, or monkish 
 tonsui'e, entered the butteiy hatch, with an 
 almost silent and a certain cathke movement. 
 
 Dan Theodulph, the sub-prior of the monastery 
 of Blackfriars, approached with his eyes fixed 
 on the ground in sombre humihty. He was a 
 tall, middle-aged man of dark complexion and
 
 150 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 lean figure, yet withal of stately appearance 
 and bearing. Passion and suffering of some 
 impenetrable class had worn deep traces in the 
 palhd face, like unto those the mountain tor- 
 rents chafe for themselves amid the pointed 
 rocks they foam over. The grey, searching eye 
 possessed an unpleasant glare as of some 
 sombre, unnatural fire ; while a morose and 
 somewhat splenetic humour played around the 
 thick-lipped mouth, under the guise of a 
 malign smile. Though, upon the whole, the 
 face was well-looking, yet it exhibited, very 
 palpably, the saturnine fury of cloistral passion ; 
 and, in truth, so far from inspiring confidence 
 without, or afiection within, the ascetic con- 
 ventual of which he held so high an office, the 
 countenance generated an unpleasant repulsive- 
 ness akin to fear, like unto that which would be 
 aroused by an ancient demoniac suddenly up start- 
 ing amid the sepulchral tombs. He resembled 
 a cross between satyr and demigod, so strangely 
 fraught was his physiognomy with startling and 
 singular incongruities. To this sketch of his
 
 OK, THE MONKS OF OLD. 151 
 
 personal appearance, we must add, as those 
 gifted with a certain amount of preknowledge. 
 some characteristics in his intervenings with 
 human life and human striving. He was 
 esteemed both far and near a perfect master 
 of scholastic theolog}', and as a preacher and 
 orator both in English and old monkish Latin 
 of the most finished eloquence. He was a very 
 Proteus in his powers and purposes of decla- 
 mator}' attack, and, like another Boarnerges, he 
 preached in a voice of thunder. The ordinary 
 subjects of his discom'ses were in keeping with 
 his appearance and character — they were of 
 sin, death, and the judgment ; of God, eternity 
 and Hades, delivered with such marvellous 
 ^igour, that he filled the most insensible with 
 dismay and ten'or. He was no mental pigmy, 
 but one of those vigorous, untameable sphits 
 whose influence for good or evil, in every age, 
 is commanding. The lore of ancient and 
 modern history, the subtleties of the casuist, 
 the polemics of the theologian, the deductions 
 of the philosopher, and the dogmas of the
 
 152 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 politician, were all acquisitions self- enforced on 
 Ids grasping and tortuous mind. He was well 
 known at court, and had been a favourite dis- 
 courser before the capricious tyrant Henry. 
 He was considered by the pubhc portion of his 
 constituents to be a miracle of virtue and holi- 
 ness ; and even among the friar preachers did 
 his extraordinary talents, and the renown of his 
 morals and sanctity, exalt him to a high position 
 in their estimation, though, as we have shown, 
 some there were among them who, while 
 doing him honour, yet entertained ill thoughts 
 concerning him. But all with this haught 
 monk was but seeming; beneath the smooth 
 and open brow lived ever a plotting brain ; 
 beneath the apathetic appearance lay a turbid 
 and not extinct volcano ; while the calm, austere, 
 and sanctimonious devotion of his every-day 
 life was but the fretted shroud covering a 
 putrifying form. But little of the foul leprosy 
 which tainted the man showed itself in the 
 seeming holiness of the monk. He clothed 
 himself, like his pui'poses, in inscrutable reserve.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF uLD. 153 
 
 He was cautious in action, stealthy in step and 
 eye, sharp in question, and vague in answer. 
 The black stole of monkish ascetism enshrouded 
 a man gifted with human passions, trebly dis- 
 tilled, full of infinite imagination, boundless 
 desire for supremacy and power, insatiable 
 thirst for enjoyment, and fathomless longing 
 after love and beauty. He sought not, tliough 
 seemingly pursuing the flowery-edged path, the 
 bowers of unfading amaranth, the golden sun- 
 set rivers, the crown of eternal light, the rewards 
 usually aspu'ed after by the cloistral devotee, 
 when hfe should result in death, and eai'th be- 
 come transformed to paradise. He had escaped 
 from the world to shelter hhnself in the sanctuary 
 of his monastery, because crime had endangered 
 his safety and his life. It was not so known ; 
 the secret lay yet rankling daiMy in his own 
 bosom, and haunting him in his di'eam -perturbed 
 nights. To the cleaving sword of future justice 
 and judgment was left the unwrapping of the 
 blood-stained threads of his mystery. 
 
 '' Benedicite, Master Cromwell !'" saluted he,
 
 154 BLACKFKIARS ; 
 
 as he approached the secretary. "Brother 
 Hildebert informeth me thou requirest speech 
 of me." 
 
 "I do, my lord monk, and on matters of 
 infinite moment," repUed Cromwell, gazing with 
 evident curiosity at the cowled figure. 
 
 " I hope no further ill concerning us is thus 
 presaged," exclaimed the sub-prior, looking 
 somewhat anxiously and eagerly into the visitor's 
 face. "What hast thou, Master Secretary, to 
 announce to us concerning the rinds of things?" 
 
 " My presence among ye, it beseems, always 
 beareth an ill odour," said Cromwell, with a 
 laugh of satisfaction. 
 
 "Well, Master Secretary, whatever is your 
 occasion of espial, I am here to do your bidding. 
 Sancta obediential we poor conventuals were 
 instituted merely to obey, even to the death, 
 and even as implicitly as, though, perchance, 
 more skilfully than, the very mechanism of men's 
 hands." 
 
 " Harp well on that string, Dan Theodulph. 
 It beseemeth you much," retorted Cromwell,
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 155 
 
 with an air of infinite felicitation. " I am here 
 on an especial cause, and must do my bidding, 
 to your liking or against it, as it may be." 
 
 " Your presence, Master Secretary, assures 
 us of certain espial to his Grace, natheless," 
 urged the sub -prior. 
 
 " Ye need fear none espial in me on this 
 occasion, my lord monk," replied Cromwell, to 
 the infinite relief of the sub-prior and the jolly 
 cellai'er. 
 
 " Then will it please you, Brother Launcelot, 
 to leave us awhile alone, si thence Master 
 Cromwell hath commands for my private ear ? "' 
 said Dan Theodulph ; and the cellarer departed 
 without a word, albeit he made the usual con- 
 ventual reverence. 
 
 " A sweet invitation to a confidence truly," 
 said Cromwell, with a smile, as the cellarer 
 bowed himself out of the chamber. " But, 
 many, it is well ; for I have occasion to leai'n 
 of thee certain things, which one so well 
 bosomed in the monastery secrets and the 
 monkish cabala as thou canst assui'e me of."
 
 156 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 " Thou mayest be certain of my compliance 
 in all matters," said the sub-prior, humbly. 
 '^ But we poor monks have much reason to 
 dread thee, Master Secretary, sithence thou 
 hast so busily bestirred thyself, and with his 
 Grace's evident approval, against our institu- 
 tions, betrothed though they be so rivetedly to 
 Almighty God and our Blessed Lady. Methinks 
 the lord legate purposes the destruction of the 
 monasteries of England, and hath all-nigh made 
 a havoc-beginning in abbatial Westminster." 
 
 " Thou art not altogether in the right there, 
 Dan Priest, I trow," said Cromwell, with a 
 secret smile. " His Grace projects no such 
 mighty overthrow; at least, as yet. But you 
 know. Brother Theodulph, and no one better, if 
 all thy devotion and preaching be true, that the 
 wages of sin are as surely due as those of 
 eternal life." 
 
 " I espy no reason whereof we should be so 
 accused and adjudged," retorted the friar, dis- 
 mally. " There are those diseases without 
 which are far fitter the great Cardinal's atten-
 
 157 
 
 tion ; but well I wot, Master Secretary, thou 
 art a favourer of these damnable heresies of 
 certain accursed Lollards. That heresy is a 
 fearful and horrible worm, which more needs 
 rooting out and trampling under foot than these 
 poor but devoted temples of the only true 
 Christian faith." 
 
 " I am not this afternoon well fitted for a 
 theological disputation ; so, prithee, my lord 
 monk, we will not combat on such points. I 
 am here for a purpose ; and, in the first place, 
 would leam of thee somewhat concerning this 
 young monk-knight, whose life-story I can in 
 no wise fathom ; and whom thy lord prior, 
 seemingly loving well, ere now styled Richard 
 Plantagenet." 
 
 " Of a verity that is the real designation of 
 this nimbus-crowned knight, of which we have 
 all needful proof. He is descended from the 
 most illustrious of his country's heroes and 
 princes. But, I am loth to say, he hath long 
 frequented our exempt precincts for a purpose 
 which is altocjether mislawful.
 
 158 BLACKFRiARS ; 
 
 " Ha ! say you so ! But tell me more of 
 this," demanded Cromwell. 
 
 " He frequents the Manor House too oft of 
 late for the peace and savmg health of as sweet 
 a penitent and fair a vestal as ever Eden pro- 
 duced," returned the sub-prior, in a dizzy and 
 shaken voice. " He seeks, like the prowling 
 wolf, to entrap the snowiest lambkin we have 
 in our most blessed charge.' 
 
 '^ What ! mean you Mistress More, of whom 
 report speaketh in most flaunting colours?" 
 questioned Cromwell. 
 
 " The same." 
 
 "If it be that our leai'ned yokefellow, Sir 
 Thomas More, is of so neai' parental to so 
 lovely a virgin, he is, I trow, well advised in 
 mewing her up safely within tliis new-fangled 
 asylum of his," said Cromwell. 
 
 " But another ill betideth her there, in the 
 person of this Knight Hospitaller, who seeks to 
 win her to his shameful love," urged the sub- 
 prior, vehemently. 
 
 " Should'st not thou, my lord monk, haunt
 
 OR, THE MONKS OP OLD. 159 
 
 her with jealous vigilance, and warn her in the 
 glowing language of which thou art so perfect 
 a master, how she ought to employ her hours 
 in hymns and harpings, and self-seeking 
 prayers ; and how unpleasing and vain a tiling 
 it is for her to forsake the monk of the cloister 
 for the monk of chivalry ?" exclaimed Cromwell, 
 jeeringly. 
 
 " What mean you, Master Secretary ? I am 
 not one gifted with reading human parables; 
 nor see I reason in this fleer," replied the 
 monk, with some embarrassment at the others 
 complex meaning. 
 
 " The bee rifles the honeysuckle while the 
 wasp buzzes around it," said Cromwell, watch- 
 ing, with well-pleased satisfaction, the result of 
 his chance hit. 
 
 " Without en doubt, I entertain a lively in- 
 terest in this young vestal, for her soul's weal ; 
 and reasonably so, sith, in very sooth, I am her 
 own special confessor, and wouldst guard her 
 against achieving her own eternal bale," retorted 
 Dan Theodulph, in a singularly wavering tone.
 
 160 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 " Very friarly spoken. But, good my lord 
 monk, thou mayest be tempted, as was St. 
 Anthony of old. We all have our temptations ; 
 and the crown, I trow, is given to few. I'll 
 warrant me, now, that even amidst these deep- 
 bayed cloisters, and so far from human haunting, 
 you have been grievously vexed of Satan, or some 
 equally all-pitiless demon, with divers trouble- 
 some assays, when confessing this young Diana," 
 persisted Cromwell, with a caustic smile. 
 
 '' Even were it so, the which I do most 
 earnestly gainsay — albeit, mine enemies do in- 
 finitely and ever belie me — I can but pray to 
 come out of so fiery a temptation unscathed," 
 replied the haught monk, with a resumption of 
 his usual cold, rocky tone. 
 
 " And how long may it be sith this young 
 warrior-monk sought thy sanctuary in his 
 scapement from kingly anger and vengeance '?" 
 demanded Cromwell, with his mind resolved on 
 the monk's leanings towards his young votaress. 
 
 " Yestreen," replied the sub-prior. 
 
 " So late as that ! Methinks he dared much
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 161 
 
 in being so o'er-tardy ere gaining sanctuary. 
 But, prithee, good Brother Theodulph, I would 
 know more concerning him ; for I have learnt 
 somewhat akeady that makes me adry to hear 
 more. Dost know his history, of the which 
 strange rumours have floated court- ways, not 
 over much, it would beseem, to the good 
 pleasure and satisfaction, withal, of our gracious 
 master, bluff King Hal," said Cromwell. 
 
 " I will relate, Master Secretary, all concern- 
 ing him that can be well affirmed," said the 
 sub-prior, with affected complaisance. 
 
 " Do so, my lord monk, while I venture on 
 another beaker of thy stout old ale," said 
 Cromwell, as he snugly ensconced himself in a 
 low, penitential-looking chair.
 
 162 BLACXFEIARS ; 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Cfje fast of tl^t l^lantagntcts, % |legal f 0mantc, 
 
 ^^ ^HE account of this young warrior monk 
 I am about, Master Secretary, to render 
 unto you, is as fanciful and marvellous as any 
 of the weird legends of ancient times, and is a 
 fitting theme for the recitations of minstrels, 
 the lays of jongleurs, and for the recording of 
 troubadours and romancers of fame. I fear 
 me, it may strike you as somewhat unreal — 
 more, perchance, like the fading interest of a 
 dream. It is, however, a tradition, handed 
 down to us from more patriarchal days, with 
 every semblance of truth ; and is, moreover, 
 avouched for by documentary and other evidence 
 which none can well gainsay. The papers and 
 muniments in proof whereof are in the sure 
 custody of our reverendissime, the lord prior,
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. J 63 
 
 surrendered into his hands by the warlike 
 knight, Sir WiUiam Weston, Grand Master of 
 the Commandery of St. John of Jerusalem, who 
 hath more than once, I trow, threatened, by 
 force of arms, to uphold this youth's rash 
 claims ; for he loves him well, 'tis said, as do 
 most things seemingly." 
 
 " Save thyself, lord monk," interposed Crom- 
 well, with a sharp scrutiny. 
 
 " Nay, wdiy shouldst thou so deem ? I, of a 
 troth, espy no reason whereby I should regard 
 him after a less measure than do others," 
 replied the sub-prior, with a gloomy look and 
 flushed cheeks. " But time, I know, presses 
 with thee, Master Cromwell, and I must needs 
 proceed in my tale-telling, an you would hear 
 the romantic bearings of this youth s history. 
 I need not, perchance, remind thee that though 
 most men recal the days of childhood with 
 regret, simply forasmuch as they can invoke 
 little of importance in it, so placidly and unruf- 
 fledly do the winds of passion or guilt glide 
 past the tides of time ; yet there are some, I
 
 164 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 trow, who gaze back shudderingiy, and percliance 
 with somewhat of fearful dismay to those childish 
 times, passed, mayhap, in poverty, in suffering, 
 and in crime." These latter words came forth 
 with a tremulous utterance, while a visible 
 shudder shook the sub-prior's frame. He, how- 
 ever, quickly recovered his usual inflexibility of 
 manner, and, in an almost unmoved tone, 
 proceeded :• — 
 
 " And thus was it, I trow, in the case of 
 young Richard Plantagenet, what time he was 
 in his earliest youth. Of his infantine life can 
 he recal nothing, save that he was permitted to 
 crawl and scramble up broad flights of stone 
 steps, and through vast, gloomy, tenantless 
 chambers, pertaining to some huge antique 
 fortress, and from the contemplation of which 
 his mind, even now, I opine, very rationally 
 recoils. An old man and a still more ancient 
 dame were the keepers of the antique, deserted 
 structure, and his most fearful custodians. Thus 
 dismally housed and nurtured, thus wondrously 
 neglected, the young scion of a gi'eat and
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 165 
 
 haughty race — as was subsequently most surely 
 approved — tided over his earliest years, amid his 
 own childish griefs and mortifications, ever kept 
 in ferment on account of his unknown parent- 
 age and mysterious descent. The sole record 
 of his recollections during those dreary times, 
 would appear to be haunted by feehngs of suffer- 
 ing and indignation, neglect and pride, desertion 
 and apathy. 
 
 " He had scarce reached, as saith the chro- 
 nicler, the age of seven years, when, one wild, 
 tempestuous autumn eve, while disporting him- 
 self, as best he could, in the gloaming twilight, 
 a tall and powerful man, closely cloaked and 
 hooded — despising the falling of drawbridge or 
 raising of the wicket-trap in the great gate, 
 strode, with clanking step, into the large, loud- 
 echoing hall, and summoned to his side the 
 bedazed and speechless lad, whom, discerning 
 in the failing light, he seized upon and bore 
 forth from the castle, after the fashion of his 
 entrance, without let or hindi'ance from the 
 astonished and ancient couple, the joint keepers
 
 1G6 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 of castle and child. This abduction and entry 
 of the ancient fortress, so mysterious and so 
 inexplicable, formed, as you may self-deem, a 
 subject matter of much grave and superstitious 
 marvel, and, in very sooth, effectually concealed 
 the plans and objects of those accessory to the 
 fearfully debated transaction. But it needs 
 must that I winnow the truth from its super- 
 stitious adjuncts, and proceed to expound unto 
 you, that the mysterious rescuer of the young 
 Plantagenet from his ruinous lonehness and 
 desertion was no other than the famed Knight 
 Hospitaller and Grand Master, Sh' William 
 Weston himself. 
 
 " It would appear this renowned knight had 
 attended the bed-ingle of and confessed a poor 
 but marvellously gifted labourer, who in his 
 death-throes disclosed to the astonished knight 
 certain facts anent his own high birth and 
 condition, and the misfortunate causes of his 
 then lowly estate. From the death-bed rela- 
 tion thus made and carefully inscribed and 
 testified by certain other knights of St. John's
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 167 
 
 Prioiy, combined with some tangible proofs 
 handed therewith, it would in very troth appear 
 that the father of this young man, so confessed 
 and shrived, was the true and lawfully begotten 
 son of that great king, Richard the Third, who 
 lost his crown and life in the fatal battle of 
 Bosworth Field.* 
 
 " The circumstances in supportal of this 
 legendary statement, were by the dying prince 
 related after this fashion. He had been, quoth 
 he, placed at a very early age, seemingly beyond 
 his recollection, under the charge of a Latin 
 schoolmaster, a grave pedant who sojourned in 
 a far out of the way district, in the south-west, 
 where he continued to board and acquire know- 
 ledge, for a weary succession of years, without 
 knowing how he went thither, who his parents 
 were, or aught concerning himself, save that he 
 was, among his schoolmates, an honoured, albeit 
 to himself an unwholesome mystery. Every 
 quarter, during this long-continued interregnum 
 
 * See Burke's Romance of the Peerage.
 
 168 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 of wondering doubt and tortured imagining, a 
 knightly and gentle stranger, without any pre- 
 vious announcing, arrived at the scholastic 
 academy, to inquire into his well-being, to dis- 
 charge the expenses of his board and schooling, 
 and to order all things further necessary for his 
 comfort and enjoyment. So tided by, in weary- 
 ing succession, quarter after quarter, in the dull 
 routine of lapsing years, until the youth had 
 attained his fifteenth year, when of a sudden 
 the same unknown benefactor appeared, who, 
 after ordering, and himself superintending, his 
 aiTayment in certain rich and costly gar- 
 ments, which he had brought with him, led 
 aAvay the wondering youth ; and having mounted 
 him on a powerful charger, bore him a long 
 day's journey away, to an immense and stately 
 mansion. Arrived thither, the mysterious 
 stranger led his charge, through several stately 
 halls and gaudy chambers, to one of lesser 
 dimensions, where he left him, bidding him 
 remain awhile quietly. After a short interval, 
 spent in much boyish wonderment and mis-
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 1G9 
 
 doubting, a tall, fine, handsome man, richly 
 appai'elled, with innumerable gems sparkling 
 about him, and decorated with a large jewelled 
 star and handsome garter, entered the saloon, 
 and, coming up to him, clasped him in a close 
 embrace, with sobs and flooding tears, then 
 spoke kindly to him, questioning him on many 
 points, concerning his health, his comforts and 
 mode of life. After some time passed thus, he 
 left him, giving him some money, and bidding 
 him heartily to be of good cheer. Thereupon 
 his late conductor returned, led him forth from 
 the mansion again, and, remounting, conducted 
 him back to the abode of scholastic cremation. 
 " Some two years fmlher, it is supposed, 
 glided by ere the young prince again saw or 
 heard aught of his mysterious guardians and 
 friends, when of a sudden, and without warning, 
 the same knightly personage came again unto 
 him, requmng his accompaniment a second 
 time. On this occasion he brought with him 
 a noble led charger, richly caparisoned. He 
 informed the wondering prince that the journey 
 
 I
 
 170 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 they were then about to take would be a long 
 and perilous one, mto a far and disturbed dis- 
 trict. They started without any long dalliance, 
 and after continuous travelling for several con- 
 secutive days and nights, with only such inter- 
 missions as were absolutely necessary for their 
 health and strength, they at last passed the 
 borders of Leicestershire, and in a short while 
 came to Bosworth Field. Arrived whereat, the 
 young prince was conducted forthwith, through 
 what appeared to his wondering vision an 
 immense canvas city and an interminable array 
 of armed warriors, to the pavilion of King 
 Richard the Third, conspicuous amid all the rest 
 by its rich and brilliant garni tm^e. In the king 
 lie at once recognized the same lordly personage 
 whom he had before so mysteriously visited, 
 and who, upon again thus beholding him, wel- 
 comed him after a kindly fashion, embracing and 
 acknowledging him to be his son. After some 
 time spent in rest, refreshment, and converse, 
 the king of a sudden exclaimed, ' But, child, 
 to-morrow I must fight for my crown, which, if
 
 OB, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 171 
 
 I lose, I lose my life also ; but for youi' sake 
 I hope to preserve both." Shortly, thereafter, 
 and while eve time was letting fall its darkening 
 shroud, the kiug sallied forth with him to 
 witness the troops all properly arrayed and 
 positioned against the fierce contention expected 
 on the morrow, and, pointing to a particular 
 spot, isolated from and considerably elevated 
 above the surrounding ground, the king again 
 addressed him, ' Do you stand there where you 
 may behold the battle without danger to your- 
 self. When I have gained the victory, and sped 
 mine enemies from the field, come thou to me. 
 I will then own you before my victorious host 
 to be truly my son, and thou shalt abide with 
 me in the honom' and position beseeming thy 
 ennobled station.' Thereunto acknowledging 
 his past neglect, and promising infinite repara- 
 tions for the future, and then adding, 'But if I 
 should be unfortunate in to-morrow's battle, 
 and victory goes not forth with me, then son of 
 mine must thou shift for thyself, for thy father 
 will lay bereft of hfe upon yon cold plain. Take 
 
 I 2
 
 172 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 heed too, in such a case, most carefully to 
 conceal thy relationship, for no mercy will be 
 shown to any so nigh related to me.' There- 
 upon, saith the chronicler, the king gave him a 
 large purse, well filled, and dismissed him with 
 tender graciousness, and with many a fervent 
 blessing. 
 
 " The morn of Boswortli dawned — that morn 
 so fatal to the young prince's newly-born and 
 lofty aspirings — and he proceeded to the spot 
 designated over-night by the king, his father, 
 from whence, with his heart in flames, he beheld 
 the many vicissitudes of that mighty tide of 
 battle which ebbed and flowed on that eventful 
 day," now in favom* of one side, then of the 
 other. The mornino's world of dews beheld 
 that gallant fight begun; the evening's mist 
 saw the hideous carnage cease. The battle was 
 lost, and Richard the Third lay dead upon that 
 well-fought field, pierced by a hundred wounds. 
 The which perceiving, his newly- acknowledged 
 
 * 22ncl August, 1485.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 173 
 
 son mounted his noble charger, and speeded 
 from the blood-soaken spot, the first amid a 
 crowd of panic-stricken fugitives, and fled in all 
 haste to London, whither arrived, he at once 
 sold his horse and fine clothes, and for the better 
 concealment, as it would beseem, of himself and 
 of his being a king's son, and in order the better 
 to gain some bodily sustenance, he betook himself 
 to hard labom^;, and became apprenticed to a 
 master bricklayer. In the eyes of his master 
 he speedily met great favour, until misfortunately 
 he loved and mated the good man's daughter, 
 whereupon he was cast forth from his employer's 
 house, banished his service, and forced to eke out 
 an irksome sort of life — his winsome bride spin- 
 ning flax night and day, while he laboured with 
 the sweat of his brow in the fields beneath the 
 open skies, neither of them, I trow, wearying in 
 or feeUng wroth at their long-suflerhigs. 
 
 " The young wife of this luckless prince, 
 pining, mayhap, from want of sufiicient sus- 
 tenance and wholesome harbourage, died in 
 giving bii'th to a son— the youth, of whom
 
 174 
 
 Master Cromwell, thou seekest information — 
 while abiding in the gate -house of an old castle 
 on the borders of Northumberland, whither the 
 fugitive prince had fled in his perplexity. 
 The days of their sojourn here were those 
 of peace for themselves, and of goodwill among 
 men. The antique lodge had, beneath their 
 cai'eful tendance, sprung into an earthly beauty. 
 Around the walls thereof, the honeysuckle 
 and jessamine shed their sweet perfumes ; 
 while entwining the open trellis of the porch 
 grew the wild rose and sweet briar. Here, 
 husbanding their resources, they practised the 
 virtues of the religion they professed with 
 unwearying diligence, which, by the multifari- 
 ousness of daily acts, secured to them hearty 
 good will and a graceful renown. The pilgrim 
 and the wanderer were wont to strike out of 
 their route journeyings to visit them, and seek 
 shelter and hospitality ere nightfall. To them 
 came the wild huntsmen, to make offerings of 
 hare, hart, or boar ; while the marauders located 
 around were ever more eager to do them ser-
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 175 
 
 vice than to entreat them evilly. After his 
 wife's death, the disguised prince suddenly, 
 on some occasion of alarm, wandered afar, 
 leaving his infant son in charge of the aged 
 custodians of the ancient fortalice, and giving 
 unto them all that he had remaining of his royal 
 sire's bounty. 
 
 '' He once more adopted his old employ of 
 bricklayer's labourer ; but not faring therein so 
 well as aforetime, he, after a while suffering 
 unknown famishment and toiling, was taken 
 sick, and came to die. It so chanced that, at 
 the time of his death-illness, he was abiding in 
 a small hovel of his own erection, within the 
 precincts of St. John's Priory; whereupon, 
 feeling the latter end of his woful fate fast 
 approaching, he made such urgent and prayer- 
 ful entreaty to see the Grand Master of that 
 foundation, that, all contrary to usual custom, 
 the Knight- Commander attended and shrived 
 him, comforting, as best he could, the abased 
 prince's dreary passage of mortal agony; and, 
 meanwhile, much to his own maiwel, gleaning
 
 176 BLACKFKIAES; 
 
 the wondrous facts and authenticities I have 
 thus shortly rehearsed. In pursuance of a 
 promise made the dying prince — which, nathe- 
 doubt, took the bitterness out of the very cup of 
 death — the Grand Master proceeded into North- 
 umberland, and having, as before recited, secured 
 the young child, brought him back to the Priory 
 of St. John's, where, our Lady be praised, he 
 hath ever since been housed and nurtured as an 
 acolyte of the order of the Knights Hospitallers, 
 receiving the spiritual and bodily aliment w^hich 
 hath sustained his flesh, as well as the nobler 
 parts of his humanity, and where, I trow, he 
 will peradventure remain until such times as, the 
 requirements of the strict military and religious 
 rules of the order being fully accomplished, he 
 shall be ordained a professed member thereof. 
 Under such sad and marvellous auspices did this 
 young novice of St. John see the light and tide 
 over the earlier years of his life ; and you may 
 well suppose that the fiery blood of the proud 
 race, which is innate in him, was not likely to be 
 tamed by the strange and trying cncumstances
 
 OPv, THE MONKS OF OLD. 177 
 
 of his former life. Aspiring and visionary by 
 temperament, the vague hopes and proud 
 thoughts with which so glorious a past seemed 
 at one time to hght the future, led him, as you 
 well wot, into all manner of public declamation, 
 and might have carried him, had occasion offered, 
 into being a tjTannicide, as he would nathe- 
 doubt have been pleased to have been designated 
 had he complished his fell purposes. But, 
 misfortunately for his own aspirings, he found 
 himself, with all his vaunted royalty of Hneage 
 and ancestry, reduced to wellnigh abject poverty. 
 But, certes, no slur canst be fairly cast upon 
 the splendom's of his genealogy, however 
 much his pocket needeth relining. It may 
 be, Master Secretary, worth extra recordmg, 
 that the young knight hath abeady seen some 
 martial service in foreign wars, amid the mihtary 
 ranks of the Brotherhood of St. John, and hath 
 gained, I am advised, somewhat of special honour 
 and worldly fame." 
 
 " Good troth, Dan Monk, this is one of the 
 maziest puzzles in romaunt-weaving I ever 
 
 I 3
 
 178 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 lighted on. But of thy proofs — of what colour 
 are thy proofs?" exclaimed Cromwell, as the 
 sub-prior made an end of speaking. 
 
 " They are, as I afore avised thee, in the safe 
 keeping of our reverend superior, who hath 
 them, withouten doubt, at your disposal, an you 
 please to inquire of him concerning them. By 
 the mass, Master Secretary, they as clearly 
 approve him to be the son of that unhappy 
 prince and the grandchild of Eichard the Third, 
 as did the wondrous proofs proffered by the 
 unhappy Phaeton in the presence of his gorgeous 
 sire, the Sun," replied Dan Theodulph, earnestly. 
 " And of this much further mayest I assure 
 thee, Master Cromwell, that the late Sir Thomas 
 Moyle witnessed to the further truth and marvel 
 of this legend by affirming that the father of 
 this young acolyte of St. John's laboured as a 
 bricklayer, under his, Sir Thomas Moyle's, direc- 
 tions, at such times as he built his new 
 mansion of Eastwell-house, and that the worthy 
 knight had oft marvelled at the wondrous grace 
 and intelligence which pervaded the luckless 
 prince."'
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 179 
 
 ^' MaiTy, it is a well-told legend," said Crom- 
 well, thoughtfully; "I must at some future 
 time have speech thereon with my lord prior. 
 Meanwhile, wilt please you, reverend brother, 
 to enhghten me respectmg another somewhat 
 mysterious personage, and of whom, perchance, 
 thou canst weave me a tale as tunefal as the 
 last." 
 
 " Of whom speak you ? " asked the sub-prior, 
 in a dark rumination. 
 
 " Hast heai'd belike of one called the Maid 
 of Kent, who beareth at times, as a saintly 
 prefix to that title, the designation of ' Holy,' " 
 said Cromwell, with a searching glance ; " she 
 whom, saith Dame Rumour, hath set ye of 
 Blackfriars all agog with her preachments in 
 your midst." 
 
 " Sancta Maria ! that have I, as who hath not 
 in these evil times of false arguments and 
 suasions," returned Dan Theodulph, with a 
 dark flash, and in a singularly wavering tone. 
 
 " Dost thou, then, know the ins and outs of 
 her previous state of being — the why and the
 
 180 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 wherefore of her present pubHc, and, methinks, 
 somewhat precarious position, sithence she hath 
 thus boldly ventured amid a swarm of con- 
 ventual wasps ? " demanded Cromwell, with 
 eager curiosity. 
 
 " So much as I am acquainted withal art thou, 
 Master Cromwell, welcome to have told unto 
 thee," returned the monk, in a dizzy and shaken 
 voice. 
 
 "My time is short; but, natheless, my 
 curiosity is great ; so, prithee, my lord monk, 
 hasten thy recitals," urged the Cardinal's Secre- 
 tary at Laws, as he again prepared to listen to 
 the other's tale-bearings.
 
 OS, THR MONKS OF OLD. 181 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ^t Pa& of %\tnt—%n %\\thmiu '§l^x^h^. 
 
 ,F the early years of this one-time holy but 
 now apostate maid, much of certainty is 
 not chronicled, as more than one version of her 
 miraculous childhood is extant and received as 
 popular by those favourers of heresy who find 
 occasion to use her services, or quote her 
 supernal inspirations. But that which bears 
 about it the greatest flavour of authenticity, is 
 the one, Master Cromwell, I am about to relate 
 unto you," began the sub-prior, with strange 
 variableness of intonation. 
 
 Here, however, we will personally take up 
 the recital, forasmuch as her story is, to some 
 extent, a psychological curiosity, which, in the 
 sub-prior's hands, might, perchance, degenerate
 
 182 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 into a narrative to suit the colouring of his own 
 particular feelings or spiritual bias. 
 
 Elizabeth Barton was born in the village of 
 Aldington, in Kent, during the year 1510. 
 From her first stage in puny infancy she w^as 
 esteemed by strangers as well as relatives to be 
 no ordinary-begotten child, but one more loftily 
 endowed than, and in all respects wondi'ously 
 unlike, others of her age and station. She was 
 from the first an object of that indolent wonder, 
 or peculiar mistrust, with which the vulgar are 
 wont to recognise the premonitory symptoms of 
 the marvellous, whether in human attainments, 
 or in mere facial phenomena. Her parents were 
 poor, hard-working people, tilling a small fai'm, 
 and living by the sweat of their brow, in com- 
 parative peace and happiness, until unto them 
 this child of evil promise was born, whose future 
 career and sultry fame would cast over them the 
 veil of regret and the pall of sorrow. Her days 
 of childish, albeit unnatural grace, in due time 
 passed away ; and, as a breath that is gone, 
 none of its early associations or more peaceful
 
 183 
 
 reflections were ever regained. At what exact 
 period her marvellous powers of prophecy and 
 declamation were first infused into her brain, or 
 when celestial inspkation descended to her from 
 On High, we cannot of a certainty announce ; 
 for these miracles of Providence, if in her case 
 they were such, in then- birth and growth are 
 in general mysteries the most profound. Cer- 
 tain it is that, at a very early age, strange 
 midnight dreams and unnatural daylight swoons 
 visited her, like dark clouds in a fair azure sky. 
 At first, during these unaccountable visitations, 
 she was despised and rejected by all as one who 
 had lost the high privilege of mental acumen ; 
 while her wandering, incoherent words, uttered 
 as of some profound source or intuition, were 
 condemned as so much folly and madness. 
 Some there were — of the usual benevolent yoke- 
 fellowhood to be found in the world — who 
 earnestly advised her indulgent and bemoaning 
 parents to bring their lunatic child to her senses 
 with a scourge and a dark room ; while others 
 there were again who vehemently asserted that
 
 184 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 these weird-like trances were nothing more than 
 convulsion fits. But neither of these neighbourly 
 opinions seem to have had much semblance of 
 reason or truth. Of the first peculiar mani- 
 festations concerning her, we cannot divine a 
 plausible explanation ; but for her latter opera- 
 tions, when she grew louder in her Cassandra 
 wailings, we are at no difficulty in forming a 
 satisfactory elucidation. Since the days of the 
 Serpent of Eden, no woman could shut her ears 
 to or veil her predilections for the temptations 
 of power and grandem\ It is clear both attrac- 
 tions speedily beset this Maid of Kent, when her 
 natural ailments or peculiar gifts brought her 
 into notoriety; for of her we read in an old 
 manuscript" — " Perceiving herself to be made 
 much of, to be magnified and much set, by reason 
 of trifling words spoken unadvisedly by idleness 
 of her brain, she conceived in her mind that, 
 having so good success, and, furthermore, from 
 so small an occasion and nothing to be es- 
 
 * Rolls House MS.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 185 
 
 teemed, she might adventm^e further to enter- 
 prise and essay what she could do, being in 
 good advisement and remembrance." 
 
 But of her being, at all events in the outset, 
 more particulaidy gifted than other mortals, we 
 may be satisfied, sithence we perceive such 
 imphcit faith placed in her by the gTeat papal 
 party of that age ; and when, fuilhermore, we 
 know that Ai'chbishop Warham believed in her 
 inspiration, that Wolsey inclined to it, that 
 Queen Catherine upheld it, and that even the 
 philosophy of Sk Thomas More was no impedi- 
 ment to his faith in it. That she afterwards 
 lent herself to imposture, her own confession 
 acknowledges ; albeit that was wrung from her 
 during torture, administered to her for her 
 apostacy by the very men who had been pre- 
 viously her landers and upholders. 
 
 As said Dan Theodulph, in his more personal 
 naiTative to Secretary Cromwell, "That she was 
 most wondrously inspired ; gifted of Providence 
 itself, I do most solemnly, as one believing it, 
 avouch. But there came a time when she
 
 186 BLACKFEIARS 
 
 forsook the rock of her salvation, stumbled on 
 her path, and strayed, through some as yet 
 undiscovered cause, into the swamps and pitfalls 
 of Satan's new temptation, the damnable heresy 
 of WiclifFe ; and is now for ever lost and 
 anathematized." 
 
 By some moderns — those who believe in 
 such rank absurdity — it is suggested that the 
 abnormal state, into which history assures us 
 she so frequently sank and was so long held 
 miraculously bound, was nothing more or less 
 than the phenomena known in these days, to 
 their wonder- seeking propensities, as that of 
 somnambulism, or clairvoyance. 
 
 If it were likely she could have heard of and 
 studied the wondrous career of the noble, 
 heroic, and glorious Maid of Orleans, or that 
 the ensample of that heaven-hearted patriot 
 had been in childhood enforced upon her evi- 
 dently precocious spirit, it might be very readily 
 imagined that her strangely ordered constitution 
 incited her to re-enact a somewhat similar 
 career on an Enghsh stage ; and that, there-
 
 187 
 
 upon, she — the Maid of Kent — worked herself 
 up to the self-delusion that she was destined to 
 be the spuitual saviour of the ancient church, 
 as the Maid of Orleans had been the martial 
 saviour of her rescued France. 
 
 The strange unnatural trances to which she 
 was subject were of varied, though always of 
 unprecedented duration ; and one in particular, 
 the first that excited public curiosity, estabhshed 
 public credence, and lent a celestial inspiration to 
 her words, lasted we ai'e assured over seven 
 months. So mysterious, so awful, so unprece- 
 dented was the long continuance of this swoon, 
 that thousands, as we read, flocked fi'om far and 
 near to see her and attest the wondrous truth. 
 Men of msirk and science tarried days to discern 
 the silent, death-endowed form of life; and among 
 those who watched her, and noted well the awful 
 mysteries of her life in death, was a monk of 
 Canterbmy, named Father Bocking, who tarried 
 with her by order of his superiors, during the 
 two latter months, until the day of her re- 
 awakening. A painful redawning of flowing
 
 188 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 life was tliat. For many hours was her whole 
 frame spasmodically convulsed, while the moan- 
 ing shrieks of the distraught spirit within would 
 have moved the very dead, so piercing and 
 fearful were they. 
 
 ^' Methinks," as said Dan Theodulph — the 
 Father Becking of former days — in the course 
 of his recital, " I hear them now, coming out 
 of the dark mist of the past, like unto the 
 hideous wail of the drowning mariner floating 
 o'er the main, or, of a troth, like unto the 
 piercing cry of the murthered, sounding ever in 
 the ear of his destroyer." 
 
 In good faith, we may well conceive that 
 during that dread solemn state of silence and 
 inaction — the very semblance of death's pale 
 shadow — when, as it was supposed, her immortal 
 soul was in awful communion with the Eternal, 
 the numerous visitants and attendants upon 
 her, considering her previous traits and predi- 
 cations, looked for some mysterious and dii'ect 
 revelation, on the requickening of her mortal 
 body. If all we read be true, it would appear
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 189 
 
 they were not disappointed. The pains and 
 visible tortures of her resuscitation in due 
 course passed off, and she was once again fully 
 restored to her former humanity, although 
 there lingered on her face an indefinable ex- 
 pression of some troubled and tempestuous 
 internal working, giving to an already comely face 
 and goodly form a sibylline gloom and grandeur. 
 It was as though her audience no longer looked 
 upon woman of human kith and kin, but rather 
 as if they beheld some mighty sphit, endowed 
 with divine inspirations, and stirred by celestial 
 impulses, for a season enshrouded in human 
 form. We may, on perusing the gloomy picture 
 of her life, bethink her expression, in stubborn 
 truth, to have been, on that memorable occa- 
 sion, like unto a type of the cloud and sorrow 
 which was perchance beheld on the brow of 
 Nemesis after her deception. The chronicler 
 asserts that she had scarce re-awakened, scarce 
 perceived the expectant company by whom she 
 was surrounded, ere she spoke, uttering words 
 of prophecy in so solemn and pre-ordained a
 
 190 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 form, that none Avho heard her questioned the 
 stupendous channel, or doubted theh^ fulfil- 
 ment. These marvellous foreshadowings, he 
 adds, coming most faithfully to pass, the mul- 
 titude at once adopted her divine inspiration, 
 and looked upon her as a saint, while blazon- 
 ing abroad the fulfilment of her prophecies to 
 her increasing fame. 
 
 Women and shepherds, it was ingenuously 
 announced by those who were her chief favourers 
 and disciples — the priests of Rome — had, there- 
 tofore, in most singular and blissful exclusive- 
 ness, been chosen of God to work his ways 
 and perform his miracles. They, for the most 
 part, implicitly believed — or affected to do so — 
 in the divinity of her call and inspiration, 
 and that, for some secret but mighty purpose, she 
 was ordained of the Almighty and the Blessed 
 Virgin to work miracles in aid of their falling and 
 tribulated church. They of the priestcraft gen- 
 erally, perceived not the Mephistopheles behind 
 the scenes, beheld not the human drilling and 
 prompting which soon succeeded the natural
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 191 
 
 features and display of the heaven-sent frailty 
 or accomplishment. Many, in their idolatrous 
 belief of her, felt there was unholy rebellion 
 or impious distrust in misdoubting the words 
 or the ordination of the then styled " Holy 
 Maid ;" for they bethought themselves in their 
 gross infatuation that in her case they might 
 as well strive with the lightest breath of Heaven, 
 ere they thought of resisting Heaven's behest, 
 so cleai'ly exhibited in her celestial manu- 
 mission. 
 
 While we, in these more matter-of-fact days, 
 beheve this strange woman to have been more 
 than half an impostor, yet we cannot help 
 thinking that she first imposed upon herself, 
 and that her wildest ventures into the desert 
 of falsehood were compatible with her own 
 belief, that she was of a truth the prophetess 
 she made herself out to be. Indeed, nothing 
 short of that self-delusion could have fortified 
 her to have played the great part she un- 
 doubtedly did among kings and princes, and 
 the ablest nobles and statesmen of that most
 
 192 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 august age. An old act of Parliament* recites 
 the following curious admission: — " Divers and 
 many, as well great men of the realm as mean 
 men, and many learned men, but specially 
 many rehgious men, had great confidence in 
 her, and often resorted to her." And from 
 another ancient authorityf we take the follow- 
 ing extracts : — " She spake words of marvellous 
 holiness in rebuke of sin and vice." '•' " ''' "She 
 spake very godly certain things concerning the 
 seven deadly sins and the ten commandments." * 
 ''' * " She, in the trances, of which she had divers 
 and many consequent upon her illness, told 
 wondrously things done and said in other 
 places, whereat she was neither herself present, 
 nor yet had heard no report thereof." 
 
 ^Ye will here once more quote a passage 
 from Dan Theodulph's narrative, to show the 
 feeling of the priesthood. " Her words," he 
 said emphatically to Cromwell, " acted as direct 
 
 * 25tli Hen. 8, cap. 12. 
 
 t Revelations of Elizabeth Barton, Rolls House MSS.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 193 
 
 commands from heaven, and of a verity were 
 they of sweet savour and sacred purport. They 
 enforced upon all men the form of prayer and 
 manner of salvation taught and enjoined by 
 Holy Church. In this respect were her teach- 
 ings and her performances marvels to all time ; 
 for they proclaimed, beyond all contradiction, 
 that the arguments and suasions used by the 
 devil's apostle, one Calvin, were all assertions 
 of the foulest heretic pravity. Thou needest 
 not. Master Cromwell, to look doubtingly upon 
 my revelation ; for, if thou requirest further proof 
 of aught I have advanced, thou mayest of a 
 surety obtain it by enquiry of Sir Thomas 
 More, whom thou knowest; or of Bishop Fisher; 
 or of our reverendissime of Canterbury Doctor 
 Warham ; or lastly, and not leastly in thy esti- 
 mation I trow, of his Grace, the great Cardinal ; 
 who have one and all seen and heard her reli- 
 gious exploits, and will be ready, nathedoubt, 
 to bear witness to them. For, as thou mayest 
 recall to mind the above-named fathers of our 
 Church being moved by the strange and wide- 
 
 K
 
 194 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 spread reports concerning this maid, and mis- 
 doubting if there might not be somewhat of 
 inspiration or miracle in her doings, appointed 
 certain commissioners to inquire into the whole 
 facts pertaining to her life and conduct, who, 
 thereupon, made solemn and earnest enquiry ; 
 and in their report, whereof I possess a tran- 
 script, they affirmed the truth of the solemn 
 averments put forth in her favour and acknow- 
 ledged her to be spiritually endowed." 
 
 Of course Dan Theodulph, with the rest of 
 the Catholic priesthood, so long as she con- 
 tinued under their control, did their utmost 
 to seal her sanctity, and secure the credit of 
 her miraculous prophecies to the service and 
 for the glory of the Romish Church. In the 
 early days of her prophetic fervour, the parish 
 priest, one Richard Masters, was directed by 
 his superior to take charge of her, and by whom 
 she was persuaded to consecrate herself to God 
 and the Blessed Virgin, by betrothing herself to 
 Heaven, within the nunnery of St. Sepulchre's, 
 at Canterbury. Upon this resolution becoming
 
 OR. THE MONKS OF OLD. 195 
 
 known, the then cellarer of Christ Church Con- 
 vent, at Canterbmy, by name Edward Bocking, 
 was dispatched in all haste to take charge 
 of her. He was, doubtless, selected from full 
 knowledge of his qualities and of his being a 
 monk devoted to his order, and one, too, not 
 over- scrupulous as to the means by which he fur- 
 thered its interests. There can be little doubt, 
 that within a short time after he had entered 
 upon his charge, with instinctive perception, he 
 discerned material in her too rare and rich to 
 be longer wasted in a small country village, and 
 therefore soon ordered her removal to Canter- 
 bury. Here, in the first days of her novitiate, 
 he inducted her into many secret experiences. 
 He made her fully acquainted with the most 
 notable of the Catholic Legends, and especially 
 with the wondrous revelations of St. Brigitt and 
 St. Catherine of Sienna.* As she became more 
 proficient, he extended his lessons to the great 
 Protestant controversy, shortly thereafter to 
 
 * Rolls House MS. 
 
 K 2
 
 196 BLACKFPJARS ; 
 
 rise to its invincible height, initiating his apt 
 pupil into the solemn mysteries of justifica- 
 tion, sacramental grace, and the power of the 
 keys — seeds, however, which took root to rear 
 an harvest the enemies of his church alone 
 reaped. 
 
 In due course a public ceremonial, at her 
 induction into the convent, and into the pale of 
 the elect prophets on earth of God, the Virgin, 
 and the Church, was decided on, whereat his 
 Holiness the Pope, and the elders of the 
 Catholic priesthood, deemed some notable 
 miracle or prophecy might emanate from the 
 inspired girl. She was, therefore, upon the 
 day fixed, conducted with great pomp and cere- 
 mony to the Chapel of the Virgin, in Courtop- 
 street, or Court-of-street, whither flocked a 
 mighty multitude, which filled to such over- 
 flowing the place of sacred ordeal and its 
 vicinity, that not only was there no standing 
 room within the chapel, but equally no passing 
 through the thronged streets without. The 
 procession conducting her thither, was made
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 197 
 
 fully imposing by the gorgeous accompaniments 
 of Romish ceremonial, and a following of over 
 2,000 persons, who continued chanting the 
 Litany of the Virgin throughout their passage. 
 
 Here again we will adopt the words of the 
 sub-prior, who thus related the extraordinary 
 proceedings which followed, and which were 
 sanctioned by the Pope, and the major part of 
 the Catholic hierarchy, and by them subse- 
 quently authenticated in the recitals enunciated 
 to the world at large. 
 
 " Laud be to God and our blissful Lady ! 
 glorious and unprecedented was the miraculous 
 manifestation, wherewithal Holy Church was 
 on this occasion edified and graced. Naught so 
 miraculous Master Secretary, was ever witnessed 
 by human vision and understanding sith the 
 fatal deicide of the Jews. The people in great 
 masses being assembled within, many throng- 
 ing the doors to the injury of then* bochly 
 wholeness, and Elizabeth Barton having been 
 brought in and laid upon a couch, for already 
 had she swooned, nathedoubt through some
 
 198 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 direct celestial intervention, prayer and inter- 
 cession was thereupon offered up by myself in 
 compliance with the commandment of my lawful 
 superiors, who had deemed one so wholly un- 
 worthy, fitted to take prominent part in the 
 august ceremony of that day. She presently 
 awoke from her swoon, and rising up as one 
 spiritually gifted, scarce resembling anything 
 human in her pallour, voice, and movement, 
 of a sudden proclaimed that the stench of 
 a dead man was in her nostrils, and desired the 
 mass of corruption should be removed. Where- 
 upon strict search was made, many misdoubting, 
 all wondering, when lo and behold ! after a while, 
 spent in doubtful amaze, the bedazed searchers 
 discovered a human carcase, fai' advancing to 
 eternal decay, beneath the boarding under the 
 altar table. It was at once removed, and 
 incense burnt to dispel the foul fumes which 
 floated in our midst. Whence it came to pass, 
 public expectation was intensely aroused to 
 learn what further the Holy Maid might utter. 
 After several truly woful moments had passed,
 
 OR. THE MOXKS OF OLD. 199 
 
 during which she seemed entranced in some 
 communion not of eai'th, she again spake, and to 
 her astonished heai'ers, proclaimed that the 
 putrif}ing corpse, so miraculously chscovered, 
 was the body of one of the revilers of the antique 
 and only church, an accursed chsciple of Martin 
 Luther, who, daiing to ti'espass, with unholy 
 thoughts and purpose most accursed, within 
 the sacred precincts of a building dedicated to 
 the Holy Virgin, had inspired the interference 
 of her x\lmighty Son, who permitted the fiends 
 of hell to enter with him, and claim his forfeit 
 soul; whereupon, being strangled, he died 
 utterly, sithence his heretic soul wih burn 
 everlastingly in the unquenchable fires of 
 Avemus. She farther gave voice to a pai^able, 
 in the which she recited the ' Legend of St. 
 Greorge,' and therein likened the di'agon to that 
 more hideous and hell-spawned one of heresy, 
 declaiing that the ancient monster did only 
 gorge the coriniptible pait of mankind, whereas 
 that of these days devom's the ever-living soul." 
 " A likelv fable, certes," remarked Cromwell,
 
 '200 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 with a contemptuous smile, " Pritliae, canst 
 apprise me how the body so mauled by fiends 
 came to be tucked beneath the altar." 
 
 " That know I not, unless perchance the 
 sacristan or his sub-sacrist in the fulfilment of 
 his duties lighted on it, and, fearing some dis- 
 covery of ill or suspicion to himself, bestowed it 
 where it was found," returned the sub-prior with 
 a lurid flush. 
 
 " Go to, my lord monk. I'm no milksop I 
 trow, to swallow that. But, I pray thee, pro- 
 ceed ; for Time's spindle rolls apace, and I must 
 needs be trudging," said Cromwell. 
 
 " I have but little more. Master Secretary, to 
 divulge. Her prophecies, on the occasion of 
 which I have been making mention, were 
 numerous, and withal startling. The tree is, 
 certes, known by its fruit. She spake many 
 solemn things, which more marvellously came 
 to pass, and whose truths have since been 
 ordained holy and canonized miracles. She 
 exposed, after the most scarifying fashion, the 
 lying malevolence which sorely vexed and slan-
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 20] 
 
 dered our tribulated Church. She extolled as 
 the only true worship and service that of the 
 Catholic faith. She bid her agape listeners to 
 repent while there was yet time, forasmuch as 
 she announced that the future was unrolled 
 before her like the scrolls of inspired sooth- 
 sayers. Her eloquence poured forth like 
 streams of vkgin silver from the furnace. Few 
 could dispute its purity, none dare doubt its 
 source. Furthermore, as thou must be cogni- 
 zant of, she launched forth, by way of conclusion, 
 into a somewhat wild, but natheless solemn, 
 invective against the king's unholy resolve to 
 unmate himself from his noble queen, the Lady 
 Catharine." 
 
 " Ay ! ay ! It doth mind me. In that, 
 mayhap, she did not much wrong, though, to 
 speak pertinently, she might have been some- 
 what more ckcumspect in her utterance, 
 sithence she ventured to attack a king sacredly 
 anointed," said Cromwell. 
 
 " An' thou mayest further remember, that 
 thereafter his Grace the Cardinal ordered her 
 
 K 3
 
 202 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 into, as he imagined, safer keeping within the 
 convent of St. Sepulchre's, at Canterbury, wherein 
 she professed and became a nun. Thereupon 
 for a while, and until her fall and utter lostness, 
 she was honourably styled the ' Holy Nun of 
 Kent,' " added Dan Theodulph, in a strange 
 wavering tone. 
 
 This was so. She was thenceforth to be 
 Sister Elizabeth, and the especial favourite of the 
 Blessed Virgin, while, for her spiritual father and 
 attendant, Father Becking was still continued. 
 The priory of St. Sepulchre was, as we have 
 already mentioned, chosen as the spot of her 
 future career ; and so soon as she was duly 
 enthroned in her cell — the thenceforth Delphic 
 shrine of this extraordinary Catholic oracle — 
 she became an established and almost uni- 
 versally acknowledged priestess or prophetess, 
 communicating revelations or proclaiming the 
 mandates of Heaven to all people, even to the 
 Pope himself. 
 
 Among her extraordinaiy and wherewithal 
 wicked declamations, she, far from imitating the
 
 OK, THE MO^^KS OF OLD. 203 
 
 weak hesitation of the Pope and the bishops, 
 uttered boldly, in the name and by the authority 
 of God, a solemn prohibition against the king, 
 threatening that, if he divorced his queen, he 
 should not reign a month, but should die a 
 villain's death * And saying further that there 
 was a root with three branches, and till they 
 were plucked up it should never be merry in 
 England; interpreting the root to be Cardinal 
 Wolsey, the first branch to be the king, the 
 second the Duke of Norfolk, and the thnd the 
 Duke of Suflfolk.f 
 
 It was then put forth to public credence, 
 that the '' Holy ISIun " was taken up once a 
 fortnight into heaven, into the presence of 
 Jehovah and his saints, with heavenly lumina- 
 tions, heavenly voices, and heavenly antiphons. 
 The holy of hoHes, from wdience she thus con- 
 tinually ascended into glory, was the altar per- 
 taining to the priory chapel. 
 
 " Thou mayest, Master Cromwell, also take 
 
 * Froude, vol. i., p. 325. 
 
 I Revelations of Elizabeth Barton. Rolls House MS.
 
 204 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 into account the subsequent use his Grace hath 
 made of her wordy portents, to assist him in his 
 obstructions anent the king's divorce," continued 
 the sub-prior, with a pecuHar smile. 
 
 " I pray thee, silence, lord monk," retorted 
 Cromwell, haughtily. " Such averments of his 
 Grace's doings were for thee ill-told in his 
 hearing." 
 
 " But surely, Master Secretary, thou art not 
 a favourer of the King's intent, and therefore 
 canst not blame Mistress Barton's utterances 
 anent the divorce," exclaimed Dan Theodulph 
 surprisedly. 
 
 " I say naught concerning it, dan monk," 
 retorted the secretary cautiously. " I but watch 
 to see how this world wags, and am not sur- 
 prised when Providence mixes its might in 
 men's affairs. Our bluff King mayhap ' resem- 
 bles not the Borgian Pope, who loved his 
 queens and his Coesar, though he doth in part 
 nathedoubt resemble him in loving stored 
 wealth. But it ill befits us to question thus, 
 out of all council, his Majesty's will and pleasure. 
 But prithee tell me how came it to pass this
 
 OR, THE M02s^KS OF OLD. 205 
 
 Maid of miracles and prophecies turned, as thou 
 termest it, Lollard ? 
 
 " Of a troth I know not. Woman hath from 
 the creation been false to her trust, and it may 
 perchance be, that Providence doth ever and 
 anon make her so to further its own vast 
 purposes. Our first mother. Eve, turned 
 traitheress, and in her apostacy wrecked man's 
 salvation. Withouten doubt, Mistress Barton, 
 being grievously tempted of Satan, wandered 
 from her one time glorified existence, and hath 
 since sealed her own damnation in order to 
 bring upon the Church some inscrutable ill, 
 that, coming thereout through the aidance of 
 our Blessed Lady, it may shine more lustrously 
 than ever aforetime. 
 
 "Doubtless!" was Cromwell's sole sarcastic 
 commentary. 
 
 " It would appear, that amid her miracle 
 achievements and prophetic teachings, the Maid, 
 many a time and oft, wandered from the sheltering 
 walls of St. Sepulchre's, thereunto permitted as 
 one pecuHarly empowered, and it beseems that
 
 206 BLACKFRIAKS ; 
 
 amid these wanderings she met with some 
 accursed impugners of our antique Church, who 
 taught her present sin and have left her eternal 
 repentance, by unfolding some of the doctrines of 
 the dragon heresy which hell hath in these latter 
 days spawned upon the earth. After awhile, none 
 expecting, she fled her convent's shelter, and, 
 prostituting her soul to the devil, visited certain 
 Lollards of notorious daring and leprosy, and 
 among them Raphael Roodspeare, whom you 
 wot of, and who so justly had his reward meted 
 out to him on earth amid the flaming pyre at 
 the ordeal-stone of Westminster — the foretaste 
 only of the unquenchable fires of hell. Since 
 which time this heretic maid and apostate nun 
 hath vomited forth words of hateful obloquy 
 against our religious institutions, and in especial 
 against this our royally endowed and exempt 
 House, breathing scorn and hate against us, and 
 all our religious pomp and spiritual devotion, of 
 a worse sort than we all bear the fiend and his 
 fiery claws. But I forget," added the monk in 
 sudden humility, "we are but an encampment,
 
 OR, THK MONKS OF OLD. 207 
 
 not a city — sojourners, not dwellers in the 
 land. So we must suffer all things in humble- 
 ness and penitence, being not enwrathed again 
 with those who would seek to do us evil, or 
 desire our overthrow." 
 
 " Do ye not for your enormities, my lord 
 monk, deserve a blacker shower than of old 
 made wastes of seething ashes, the one time 
 palatial cities of Sodom and Gomorrah ?" said 
 Cromwell, in a stern, haughty tone. 
 
 '' Our Lady forbid ! What have we done or 
 left undone in our sacred calling, more than ye 
 of the profane world, to cause such a punish- 
 ment sketched out for us T retorted Dan Theo- 
 dulph gloomily. 
 
 " Answer, my lord monk, to those who will, 
 perchance, have the questioning of ye ere long, 
 and answer then, as for your very lives ; for by 
 my faith, ye will have Httle respect or mercy 
 shown ye. 111 warrant, if his Majesty once 
 decrees the suppression of your House, exempt 
 and royally endowed though it be," said Crom- 
 well significantly.
 
 ^08 BLACKFPJARS ; 
 
 " We must tide the sorrows man would 
 enforce upon us, aware that God's justice will 
 in the end be meted out," said the sub-prior 
 humbly ; " and our Lady forefend that any one 
 among us, within this Monastery, should fear 
 the visitation or the inquiry of some honest and 
 dispassionate reporter, by whose presence and 
 observation our innocence of all evil occasion, 
 so oft alleged by our enemies against us, might 
 be most succinctly testified." 
 
 " Well, well. Brother Theodulph, I come not 
 among ye to-day to distraught ye more than is 
 necessary. Thou hast well seasoned me in the 
 knowledge I sought, and I will now take my 
 leave, unless it will please you to accompany 
 me to the Manor House, whither I must now 
 journey to have speech of Sir Thomas More ; 
 and thence to Baynard's Castle, for certain 
 learned proofs of Master Verstegan's, whose 
 prodigies in soothsaying men account great." 
 
 '' Of a troth, yes. His readings of the starry 
 mysteries are wondrous real. I will with thee 
 at once, Master Secretary."
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IIJASSING through the mtricacies of the 
 ^ densely populated Wilderness, Master 
 Secretary Cromwell, and Dan Theodulph 
 reached the Manor House, and then entering 
 through a wicket that led them direct to the 
 gardens at the back, by a way with which the 
 monk seemed well acquainted, they found them- 
 selves amazed observers of the scene of outrage 
 and strife being enacted on that evening within 
 the wild but still fair garden. 
 
 " What mean these sounds of strife ? Ha ! 
 my young fire-eating knight beset by two, and, 
 gad's life ! a female in ruffianly clutches held," 
 quothed Cromwell surprisedly. 
 
 " Let us on, Master Secretary, let us on. 'Tis 
 Mistress More — by our Blessed Lady it is ! and
 
 210 BLACKPRIARS ; 
 
 struggling too, mayhap with some foul de- 
 flour ers," excitedly exclaimed the monk, while 
 rushing forward with an eagerness and anxiety 
 that denoted foregone conclusions, undreamed 
 of by all save himself. 
 
 " Ay ; do thou to the damsel, while I back my 
 sturdy warrior-monk, who by my faith, knows 
 well how to handle a sword, e'en when 
 splintered in his grasp ; but who, without 
 aidance, will be quickly numbered among the 
 ever-vanished dead," said Cromwell, as he 
 hastened to the aidance of Richard Plan- 
 tagenet, who was at the moment in a sore strait 
 and grievously pressed by his two determined 
 adversaries. 
 
 " Come, cease thy combating!" exclaimed 
 Cromwell, as he came up. " Cease, I say, ye 
 sirs of sombre disguising ! I am weaponed, and 
 will take pai't with the weaker side. Thunder 
 and bombards ! will ye not stop ? Have at ye, 
 then ; come on ! my young fire-eater ! we will 
 show them, I trow, how to beat a retreat." 
 
 But further aid was now at hand. The
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. '^11 
 
 elderly matron had at last succeeded in 
 arousing the inmates of the mansion ; and forth 
 they came, ai'med after a strange promiscuous 
 fashion, but sufficiently formidable in appear- 
 ance to lead the instigators of the brawl to con- 
 clude their scheme was for the time at an end. 
 So, suddenly calUng upon their two ruffian 
 attendants to decamp, they themselves beat a 
 hasty retreat. This, however, so far as they 
 were concerned, was not a matter over easily 
 effected ; for, ere they reached their boat, the 
 young knight was upon them, and, seizing the 
 principal of the two, roughly by the shoulder, 
 he exclaimed — 
 
 •' Nay, sn, stranger ; we pai't not thus. I 
 have not combated with thee so long, to be 
 devoid of a pressing desire to see the face of a 
 man who hath not courage, it beseems, to fight 
 me singly." 
 
 " By my father's beard, thou shalt not, strip - 
 hng !" shouted his late antagonist, with a fierce 
 oath. 
 
 But though he made a vigorous effort to free
 
 212 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 himself and use again his sword, the young knight 
 held him so firmly, that he could not follow his 
 companion, who had already seated himself with 
 the oarsmen in readiness in the boat ; while, 
 to add to his dismay, Cromwell, whom he had 
 reason too well to know, and w^iose knowledge 
 of him, on such an expedition, he did not, for 
 many important reasons, desire, now^ approached. 
 He, therefore, turned round and faced his young 
 opponent, exclaiming, in a haughty undertone, — 
 
 " I care not to be seen or hindered by others. 
 I, therefore, Sir Unknown, grant compliance to 
 necessity that which, by my fay, I would not to 
 force," exclaimed Sir John Perrot, raising his 
 mask, so that none else might behold the fea- 
 tures it concealed. " Now, young sir, pledge 
 me thy knightly word thou wilt not expose me 
 to living being." 
 
 ^' I do ; though, pasque Dieu, I know you 
 not. However, I pledge you that, so long as 
 you refrain from repeating the outrage you 
 contemplated ere now, I will in no manner 
 betray your part in it," rephed Plautagenet.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 213 
 
 " But, rest assured, if you dare again trespass 
 after this fashion, I will seek thee at Court, 
 where I well imagine, hy a marvellous resem- 
 blance to a certain high personage, I shall 
 have little difficulty in the finding of you. I will 
 then proclaim abroad thy unmannerly conduct 
 to an unoffending lady, and thy un knightly 
 contention with myself. Thou canst now depart ; 
 but prithee bear in mind my words." 
 
 " And do thou, insolent and upstart boy, 
 look well to mine," retorted Sir John Perrot, 
 haughtily. *' Dare but to utter a word maligning 
 me, and thy life shall pay the forfeit. And, by 
 St. George, mark me well, I'll yet rob thee of 
 thy mistress, and that ere many suns have set 
 and risen." 
 
 The boat was then pushed off, and speedily 
 pulled out from the shore into the middle of the 
 silent river, and was, ere long, lost to sight in 
 the gloom of the coming night. 
 
 " Methinks, young su', I know that voice, and 
 the figure is not altogether unfamiliar," said 
 Cromwell, addressing Plantagenet.
 
 S14 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 " Ha ! say you so, Master Cromwell ? Whom 
 deem you the man to be?" asked the other, 
 somewhat eagerly. 
 
 " 'Twere well not to name him in uncertainty," 
 returned Cromwell, evasively. 
 
 " As you will, Master Cromwell. But I have 
 much need to thank you for aidance when but 
 now so unknightly set upon. But let us back, 
 and question how fares Mistress More after her 
 aflrightment." 
 
 " I am with thee, young sir. Of a troth, 
 thou usest well thy sword. 'Twas wondrous 
 pleasant to see thee battle, with broken weapon, 
 men so acknowledged of fence and sword prac- 
 tice," exclaimed Cromwell. 
 
 " They were false and disloyal knights, who- 
 e'er they were," returned Plantagenet; "and 
 I will so proclaim them on the first occasion 
 which may offer, though at present I weet not 
 who they be." 
 
 They had now approached the group sur- 
 rounding the dismayed and trembling Aveline, 
 who was describing to her enthralled and dark-
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 215 
 
 minded confessor her sightless experience of 
 the late bold outrage. 
 
 " Of this I will speak more to thee anon, my 
 child/' said Dan Theodulph, on perceiving the 
 approach of Cromwell and the young Knight of 
 St. John. 
 
 " Ay, do so, my lord monk. For I must ask 
 this fair lady to excuse thee awhile, whilst thou 
 leadest me to Raimond Yerstegan's lodgings," 
 said the Secretaiy at Laws. 
 
 '* Will it please you to see him at once?" 
 asked the sub-prior, with hesitation, while 
 eyeing, somewhat malignantly, the forms of the 
 Knight of St. John and the Lady Aveline, who 
 were warmly welcoming the one the other. 
 
 '•' Ay, at once, if so it please you, dan 
 monk ; for time tarrieth not, I trow, during 
 this my long abidance within your precincts," 
 said Cromwell. 
 
 They then proceeded, though with some 
 slight appearance of ill-gTace and hesitation 
 on the part of the monk, through the mazy 
 and weed-gi'own pleasm-e grounds, towards the
 
 216 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 east; and, passing through a wicket, emerged 
 into one of the narrow and tortuous streets of 
 the Wilderness, wherein the sunshine itself 
 descended from on high ever cold and shadowy, 
 and wdierein the gaunt erections on either 
 hand were let out in sluttish tenements, for the 
 very poorest of the vagrant population. 
 
 "They are, I trow, a well-matched pair. 
 Venus and Adonis represented hy a new 
 Heloise and Abelard," said Cromwell, with a 
 quick, searching glance at his companion, as 
 they threaded then- way towards Baynard's 
 Castle. 
 
 " Sancta Maria! I see naught likely in their 
 earthly communion, though it bethinks me the 
 youth would, an he could, lure the sweet 
 vestal to her fall, albeit he is a student for the 
 cloister, though, perchance, not yet professed. 
 But no nefarious project of his can, by any 
 possibility, affect Mistress More, sithence she 
 is in holy training for her betrothment to our 
 Lord Jesu," returned Dan Theodulph, some- 
 what disorderdly.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 217 
 
 " You are so busy with thy unexplained 
 fastings and prayers, lief brother, that you spy 
 nothing under your nose," said Cromwell, 
 mahciously. " This Knight of St. John is not 
 a rarity like thee, or so cold as a hapless frog 
 in your cloisters." 
 
 " I perceive not the drift of thy reasoning, 
 Master Cromwell. Dost thou mean to assert 
 that there is naught real in this youth's seem- 
 ing virtue and fair pretences ? If such be thy 
 meaning, I will pray thee have me excused 
 from further accompaniment ; as needs must 
 that I should rescue this snowy lambkin from so 
 well-guised a wolf. I must and will baffle all 
 felon purposes against her, and preserve unde- 
 filed the intended bride of heaven from hideous 
 profanation ! " 
 
 " Fair and softly, lord monk ! fair and softly, 
 quoth I ! It were but lost favour, mind ye, for 
 a lady to love a priest ; so, prithee, let thy 
 wise head rest, and trouble not thyself with other 
 men's concernments," persisted Cromwell, with
 
 218 BLACKTRIAES ; 
 
 a short laugh, and a random ahn — albeit, the 
 Parthian shaft told. 
 
 " I can not gather thy meaning. Master 
 Secretary. Our Lady forefend, that I should 
 have any evil thought, or hold any unconfessor- 
 like leaning towards my gentle penitent ! I 
 would, in very troth, rescue her from all danger; 
 and will, with our Lady's aidance, from even this 
 thou inclinest to ! " retorted Dan Theodulph, 
 dismally. 
 
 " Leave them alone, monk. Well thou must 
 wot they are already rivetedly betrothed. Dost 
 thou not perceive thy present meddling will be 
 altogether ill-chosen ? Canst not recognise 
 with what love-sick visage this blind Hebe 
 greets the young knight. I could not wish him 
 better — a brave and worthy youth — than a long 
 enjoyment of such first-fruits of love," said 
 Cromwell warmly. 
 
 *' It is false ! by the blessed mass, most 
 utterly false ! " returned the sub-prior, with 
 aghast vehemence. " But sith thou sayest so ;
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 219 
 
 and mayhap thinkest so too, I may no longer 
 tarry away from so precious a charge thus 
 wofully endangered." And he suddenly stopped, 
 and would have retraced his steps, had not 
 Cromwell detained him by seizing his arm. 
 
 " Why, gad-a-mercy ! what ails thee, dan 
 monk? Recover thy temper; for, certes, thy 
 best wits have gone wool-gathering ! " he said, 
 railingly. " Beshrew me, why should their 
 love -junketings trouble thee after this fashion ? 
 Be persuaded, all will go well anon. What 
 need for thee t6 affright and disturb thyself 
 thus, and while too, in the full odour of thy 
 world-spread sanctity." 
 
 " By the Blessed Mary ! forasmucli as the 
 damsel is already wived to heaven ; and because 
 'twere a hideous sacrilege, and e'en a blacker 
 adultery, for man to defile her. Nay, Master 
 Cromwell, thou needest not smile so misdoubt- 
 ingly. Her celestial choice is of her own pro- 
 curement, and none of my advising; albeit, of 
 a troth, I may have discerned in her certain 
 grave signs of contrition and devotion to my 
 
 L 2
 
 220 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 general exhortations, which have perchance, 
 alheit incontinently, confirmed her in her blissful 
 choice. And sith it is thus of her own earnest 
 desiring, I will peril life and health, soul and 
 body, if need be, heaven assisting, in firmly 
 stablishing her in it ! " 
 
 "Can it be possible?" retorted Cromwell. 
 '' Why then, she is indeed, blinded to her own 
 earth bliss ; albeit, through some vain supposal. 
 Now, look ye, dan monk, 'tis well known I 
 love not your monkish disports ; so, prithee, 
 have a care how thou usest thy privilege and 
 authority of confessor to yon peerless damosel 
 as not abusing it. Sir Thomas More and I, 
 though opponents in certain matters of state- 
 craft, are natheless well akin in friendship — 
 good yokefellows in the bonds of life, I trow ; 
 and of a surety will I warn him if I see aught 
 amiss. But to my satisfaction must I win some 
 further light on this recondite mystery." 
 
 " Thou art akin to those burghers of seditious 
 and Antichrist London, who study and avow 
 the heresy of WiclifFe and Luther; and it
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 221 
 
 minds me, Master Secretary, thou hast best be 
 chary of thine own leanings ere thou venturest 
 to take others to task thus shamedly," repHed 
 Dan Theodulph, with flashing eyes, as they 
 passed forth from the Precincts, and, through 
 a small postern, entered the great court of Bay- 
 nard's Castle. 
 
 This court consisted of an uTegiilar kind of 
 quadrangle, formed by a range of buildings in a 
 ver}^ ancient and diverse style of architecture, 
 with muUioned windows, Gothic cusps and 
 pinnacles, casements on the roof, two large 
 octagon towers projecting far out to the east- 
 ward and westward, and one circular tower in 
 the centre, which was built out from the wall 
 of the main building, and shot up to a great 
 height. Numerous devices, coats of arms and 
 initials, floridly sculptured, appeared above the 
 doorways and casements ; while an antique 
 fountain spurted water and murmm^ed in the 
 centre of the court, with some di^ooping foliage, 
 that spread its branches and shadows over the 
 basin into which the water fell.
 
 2^2 BLACKFRIARS 
 
 " Ha ! by my faith, dan monk, thou dost 
 not retort amiss ! " said Cromwell, with a 
 caustic smile; but, then, adding, in a more 
 haughty tone, " But, prithee, have a care how 
 thou venturest to threaten me ; 'twere ill sport 
 for the cowled brotherhood to tempt to anger 
 the temporizing lion. But a truce to this coil- 
 some bantering. Let us ascend to the regions 
 of the empyrean, wherein lurketh this latter 
 Mopsus. Dost visit him oft?" and he mounted 
 the numerous stairs of the great central 
 tower. 
 
 " Not so frequent as 'twere advantaging to 
 his soul's weal. Woe is me. Master Secretary, 
 his superstitions are still as ever so flintily 
 bedded, that my ploughshare is of a continuance 
 turned aside," answered the sub-prior, and then, 
 as they reached the topmost landing, adding, 
 " But here we are. We may enter, I trow ; for 
 Master Verstegans is nathedoubt in his starry 
 loft, where he doth compile so mystically the 
 architecture of the Heavens." 
 
 They entered at the moment a large room, full of
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 223 
 
 strangely assorted articles, congregated together 
 as for a witches' Sahbat, and which was situated 
 amid the roof and rafters of the antique castle, and 
 in a measure worthy of some slight description. 
 It was an oblong low-ceiled room, lighted, even 
 in full daylight, dimly enough by three narrow 
 diamond-paned windows, formed into a bow; 
 but now more effectually illuminated by two 
 short pillars or pedestals of bronze, engraven 
 with manifold hierogtyphics, from the summits 
 whereof burned waveringly the flames of naptha, 
 and furthermore by a brazier Ml of live coals, 
 from which the fumes of various eastern drugs 
 and herbs were emitted. The furniture was both 
 rude and spare ; while scattered around on all 
 hands were astrolabes, globes, and other mathe- 
 matical instruments. Curiously carved figm'es 
 and painted cabalistical letterings covered every 
 inch of both walls and ceiling; while upon a 
 long uncouth looking table were numerous 
 books, open at divers hieroglyphic al pictures, 
 with a varied collection of maps and drawings of 
 the stars and celestial bodies, extraordinarily
 
 224 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 illuminated with the fantastic configurations 
 delighted in by ancient astronomers, and amid 
 these lay telescopes, zodiacs, and many instru- 
 ments of judicial astrology. At the further end 
 of the room was a large mirror, mystically 
 framed and embroidered, covered by a full black 
 cloth ; while directly beneath it, was an exten- 
 sive tank of glistening water, two formidable 
 items, no doubt, in the weirdlike apparatus of 
 the soothsayer and astrologer. Close beside 
 these was a small low-crowned door, then ajar, 
 and disclosing a narrow and withal a steep 
 flight of steps, which led to a laboratory or 
 observatory in a round turret, perched on the 
 extreme summit of the tower-roof, and from 
 whence an unobstructed view of so much of 
 both the terrestial and celestial worlds as were 
 within the range of human vision could be ob- 
 tained. And herein, more frequently than not, 
 did the thoughtful and industrious student, 
 whom Cromwell and his conductor came to 
 visit, pass the greater portion of the night, 
 engaged in his laborious mystical toils — toils in
 
 225 
 
 all ages so absorbing in their vast solitude and 
 grand sublimity. 
 
 " Master Yerstegans is very persistent in his 
 studies, and he lingers as usual up in his skyey 
 turret," said Dan Theodulph, after casting an 
 inquisitorial glance around. 
 
 " Thou hadst best unsky him, and bring him 
 forth, sithence a mortal desires earnest speech 
 of him," replied Cromwell, eyeing, amid a 
 silence as complete as was that in the cave of 
 Trophonius, the strange appearance of the 
 singular chamber and its miscellaneous assort- 
 ment of mystical objects, with an indefinable 
 feeling, perchance not far akin from awe. 
 
 " I will summon him, for methinks this gong 
 would rouse the dwellers in all pandemonium if 
 lustily sounded ; though our Blessed Lady forbid 
 it should have that power in the present in- 
 stance," said the sub-prior, striking with gentle 
 caution the leathern- ended hammer against the 
 resounding brass. 
 
 Some moments elapsed before any notice was 
 taken, or a sound was heard. At last a slight 
 
 L 3
 
 226 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 movement, as of mice scampering within old 
 wainscotting in the dead of night, and the next 
 moment a voice from behind, with a deep clear 
 intonation, demanded — 
 
 " What or whom seek ye ?" 
 
 The two startled visitors hastily turned, and 
 beheld standing against the wainscotting at the 
 other side of the chamber, a noble and striking- 
 looking personage. Though he had passed his 
 grand climacteric, few signs of decay minished 
 the lustre of a vigorous old age. His hair and 
 expansive beard were, it is true, well grizzled by 
 time ; but the bright gleaming of the un- 
 quenched eye, the noble solidity of the features, 
 the hale colouring of the cheeks, and the won- 
 drous lighting up of the countenance by an 
 unnerved intellectuality, bore good evidence 
 that the youth of the soul had outlived that of 
 the body. His dress, by its remarkable fashion, 
 added much to his striking appearance. A tight- 
 fitting jerkin, of bright purple velvet, reached 
 from his neck to his knees, from whence his 
 legs were clad in black silken hose, terminated
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 227 
 
 by shai'ply-pointed shoes, of untanned leather. 
 Round the waist this rich under- vestment was 
 encu'cled by what appeared a wondrously well- 
 chased and jewelled belt of silver, so shone and 
 spai'kled it in the wavering light. Over all was 
 thrown a loose robe or mantle of most gorgeous 
 though ancient embroidery, set with an extra- 
 ordinary admixture of mystical emblazonings 
 and astrological hieroglyphics. 
 
 " What and whom seek ye ?" was the demand, as 
 we have already written, of this notable personage. 
 
 " I am his Grace my Lord Cardinal's secre- 
 tary," began Cromwell, much impressed by 
 the appearance and bearing of the renowned 
 astrologer. 
 
 " Nay, tell me not who thou at — 'twere words 
 idly spent. I know thee, Master Cromwell ; and 
 indeed rejoice to see one, who is so likely to 
 prove a pillar in that gorgeous superstructure 
 Time is uprearing to the honour of the Lord 
 God of Sabaoth — a temple, mark ye, so far 
 exceeding Solomon's, in its beauty and vast- 
 ness, that its fretted roof shall be the star-
 
 228 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 spangled heaven and its body eternity itself. 
 All nations on earth shall hereafter meet there 
 to worship, kneeling not unto some tottering 
 dotard of humanity, clad in cloth of gold, but 
 praying before and singing hosannas in praise 
 of the enthroned Eternal." 
 
 " And canst thou thus read my aidance in so 
 noble a work ? for well I wot, Master Eaimond, 
 what you mean," inquired Cromwell with eager 
 interest. 
 
 " Yea, I have searched more than once, and 
 have beheld thee in the foremost rank ; and I 
 have good cause to know the part thou wilt 
 assume, for the signs and portents are thicken- 
 ing like bats in the summery nights," returned 
 Raimond Verstegans. 
 
 " I should much like to speak more closely 
 with thee. Will it please you to give me far- 
 ther enlightenment," said Cromwell, with some 
 agitation. 
 
 " Not now, not now. If thou wouldst know 
 the scope and tenure of thy further existence, and 
 have faith in what I shah unfold, I will read thy
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 229 
 
 mystery to thee. But thou must come at mid- 
 night on some other occasion, and that too with- 
 out accompaniment," returned the astrologer. 
 
 " Wilt to-morrow's midnight suit thy plea- 
 sure," asked Cromwell eagerly. 
 
 " Aye ; and if thou wilt come, be here in this 
 chamber one quarter ere midnight tolls. Be 
 punctual, or 'twere labour lost. But tell me, 
 Master Cromwell, doth this Court of Divorce 
 again meet on the morrow?" questioned Raimond 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Of a troth, yes, and at the hour of eleven 
 in the forenoon," said Cromwell. 
 
 " And the king shall come ; and though he 
 be refused this time once more his desire, yet 
 shall injustice and wrong triumph until his 
 conscience be fully dyed in blood," said Raimond 
 dreamily, and then in a tone of prophecy, pro- 
 ceeding, — " There are two rights of man for 
 which all the faithful ought ever to resist 
 — -justice and liberty. But, alas ! the time is 
 not yet. Ah, what evil hath been achieved 
 by weak and incompetent purveyors of the law,
 
 230 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 from Pontius Pilate downwards 1 Six wedded 
 miseries shall ensue ere death shall rob the 
 tyrant of further power of ill-doing. Six queens 
 shall own him lord ; two shall by force be put 
 aside; two on the bloody block shall murdered 
 be ; one a natural death, and blessing God for her 
 release, shall die; and the last survive the arch- 
 tyrant to bless, day and night, the kingly 
 quittance. But ere that latter day comes — ere 
 this Tudor tyrant shall pass away for ever 
 among the shadows of his ancestors — ere he earn 
 his just desert. Heaven's ban — what wholesale 
 misery shall this king ferocious do ! Crime upon 
 crime, horror heaped upon horror, prodigious 
 confiscations, wholesale suppression of liberties, 
 no security in life or property, an anarchy the 
 world hath scarce seen before. So the uni- 
 versal confusion shall grow on apace. It shall be 
 as though the creative behests of the Divinity, 
 which established the lights in heaven and con- 
 stituted order the law of the universe, had been 
 countermanded; for verily shall it seem as if 
 chaos had come again. Its desolation, too, shall
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD 231 
 
 equal its gloom. Thie genius of spoliation and 
 destruction shall preside over its tui'bulent and 
 angry agitations. In this coming darkness, 
 foul monsters of ugly shape shall devour one 
 another, voices shall be heard echoing, not in 
 the gentle strains of humanity ; for they shall 
 roar senselessly and curse recklessly, until, as a 
 finality, they become self-accursed. And in 
 those times, the beginning of which hath 
 already dawned, humanity will wonder if the 
 Spirit of God will move again upon the face of 
 the waters, dispel the vengeance from those 
 long-brooding clouds, and cause a new-created 
 world — ^the terrestial garden of Jehovah — to 
 spring up, clad mth verdure, and consecrated 
 to happiness and love." 
 
 " And canst thou not foresee an end to all 
 this?" questioned Cromwell, almost breathlessly, 
 fearing to break, by his words, the spirit of 
 prophecy which, at the moment, seemed to 
 possess, as though with some celestial intuition, 
 the ennobled form of the Astrologer. 
 
 " Yea, that do I, thanks be to God," re-
 
 232 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 sponded Raimond, wraptly ; " Yea, from the 
 dark bosom of this desolation, a glorious struc- 
 ture, piled to the skies, shall arise, like unto 
 the enchanted palaces of Aladdin. And of 
 this diamond-hewn building shalt thou, Master 
 Cromwell, be a mighty prop ; but, alas ! its per- 
 fection shall only be accomplished in reigns 
 subsequent to this, and in the good pleasure of 
 the Celestial Majesty. But while some track 
 the darkness of their fates into the abyss, thou 
 shalt pursue the Sinaic efiulgence of thy star 
 heavenward." 
 
 *' Oh, that the light of these orbs would but 
 last me long enow to discern this glory that may 
 be ! content would I be to sit in darkness ever 
 after, until the second coming," said Cromwell, 
 with unusual enthusiasm. 
 
 " The day is ever dark and cloudy to those 
 who behold not God's glory breaking over all," 
 continued Raimond Verstegans. " But what 
 came ye here for to seek ? Do ye wish to learn 
 what further cancers eat into the souls of men ? '" 
 he abruptly inquired. 
 
 " Master Cromwell wished to consult thee,
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 233 
 
 Master Verstegans, of himself; while I would 
 know if thou hast yet seaixhed out how and 
 when our inoffensive sanctuary of peace and 
 piety, of which I am so unworthily the sub- 
 prior, shall be spoliated and suppressed ? " 
 questioned Dan Theodulph, with timid hesitation. 
 
 " In the fulness of time, monk; and ere 
 the earth six cycles shall have traced around 
 the Creator's central luminary, the lust for gain 
 and wrong enforcement, in which this new 
 Herod dehghts, shall ^dsit and desecrate thy 
 sanctuary." 
 
 ^' Oh, woe is me ! So soon — so soon ! " ex- 
 claimed Dan Theodulph, lameutingly. " Sancta 
 Maria, or a pro nobis.'' 
 
 " But go ye now. Trouble me no more at 
 the present moment. Fare you well, Master 
 Cromwell. I shall ever be glad of,- thy diligent 
 frequentation hither. I go now to my lonely 
 chamber, as one of a tribe apart, to work and 
 labour from gloomy mom to weaiy night. I 
 must not think to share the common blessed- 
 ness of nature in human ties, more than the
 
 234 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 vulgar herd tlie honours accorded to those who 
 vanquish them. I must not root myself m any 
 soil by the mighty heart-fibres, but must devote 
 myself, in sound heart and perfect mind, to do 
 His bidding whose messenger I am. God be 
 with you, dan monk, and with you, Master 
 Cromwell."
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 tf soon as Dan Theodulph had quitted the 
 garden with Cromwell, and when the first 
 impressive greeting was over, the beautiful 
 Avehne, of course still accompanied by her 
 lover, was hurried by the watchful and loving 
 vigilance of Dame Agatha into the mansion, ere 
 the damp dews of evening or farther mischance 
 should attaint her lovely charge. 
 
 Passing through the hall, they entered a 
 spacious and noble-looking room on the ground 
 floor. This the principal chamber was loftily 
 ceiled, and floridly decorated in the Flemish 
 fashion of that age of profusion, the walls being 
 hung with bright and rich tapestry, and the 
 roof covered with quaint devices and heraldic 
 blazons. The floor and furniture was of mas-
 
 236 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 sive oak, elaborately cai^ved, while the encaustic- 
 tiled fireplace occupied a great portion of one 
 side of the chamber, so vast was it. 
 
 Arrived within these sheltering walls, and 
 being fairly seated beside each other, on a 
 large massive looldng couch, Dame Agatha, 
 with not ill- chosen discretion, retired, leaving 
 the young pan* to enjoy, while without twilight 
 was melting into night, the more enthralhng 
 pleasures of an unobserved tete-a-tete. How 
 fondly and devotedly • did the young knight, 
 made after high Jehovah's image, encircle her 
 tapering waist, and draw the young and trusting 
 girl to his side, feeling to a more immeasurable 
 extent the value of the prize he possessed in her 
 unspotted love, since he had, by his own might 
 and his own arm, rescued her from violence, and 
 perchance a more dreaded evil. And for the 
 same cause, how mightily enhanced was the 
 yearning of this unmatched Venus for her 
 youthful lover, as on this occasion he paid to her 
 his most welcome court. She saw him not, as 
 those deep, lustrous orbs, gazed fondly upward
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 237 
 
 at his face ; but with a readier instinct she 
 felt his presence, recognized it as she would 
 his step and voice among a thousand. Purity 
 of heart, gentleness of disposition, and an un- 
 sophisticated mind, were as clearly revealed 
 in the speaking expression of her upturned 
 face, as the innermost depths of a fountain 
 are by the pellucid medium through which 
 they are viewed. She resembled a seraph 
 strayed from Eden's gate. Hers was a virgin 
 heart, which, like her lover's, had received no 
 previous impression. The first love of a young 
 girl is always pure, and only seeks purity 
 wherewith to unite itself. There is, too, in the 
 vkginity of passion, a vivid bashfulness, which 
 would fain avoid even its own contemplation. 
 And in the calenture of noble spirits, in the 
 midst of that vision of universal happiness and 
 peace wherewith love entices youth, this terres- 
 tial Hebe idolized the young and generous 
 knight of St. John. 
 
 " Thou art here," she muttered in thrilling 
 accents, " thou ait here ; for thy voice so en-
 
 238 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 thralling floats to my ears like music on the 
 waters. Thou art here, for my soul is illumined 
 amid the darkness which surrounds my vision. 
 Anon it is affirmed I shall see all things again 
 which have faded around me, like unto clouds 
 which gather round the shepherdess in a vale 
 of waters." 
 
 " And then, Jesu be praised ! shalt thou, sweet 
 one, behold me, and witness how deeply and 
 truly I repay the love-beams w^hich, coming 
 from your eyes, shed such lustre on my being," 
 passionately returned her lover. 
 
 " Oh ! Sancta Maria ! may it be so ; for 
 now with me is it ever cloud, and never sun- 
 shine. I live but in a land of dreams, where 
 all is gloom, and where blissful light is never 
 known. My days are passed, as it were, in 
 perpetual winter, for I behold not the blessed 
 changes of nature ; neither discern I the flowers 
 of day, or the stars by night. And, beside thee 
 and my dear father, I have no solace, no friend, 
 no amusement, save my citherne and the songs 
 you love so well"
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 239 
 
 " A time may come, my Aveline, when, I trow, 
 all things will be well," said Richai'cl Plan- 
 tagenet warmly. '• But know you what manner 
 of person it was that so profaned your gentle 
 modesty, by his rude conduct this eve." 
 
 " Nay, by our Blessed Lady ! that do I not," 
 returned Avehne, with a fearful shudder. 
 " ^Yho could so wish to evil enti'eat me, I know 
 not. I have given none offence that I wot of, 
 and do therefore mai'vel at the intentioned 
 wrong." 
 
 " They meant thee, sweet love, some out- 
 rageous folly thy gentle simpHcity can not 
 image," said Plantagenet with a beaming 
 glance. " Master Cromwell, I trow, knew him 
 who was chief of the twain, though he would 
 not avow it." 
 
 " I shall ever fear to venture forth now, even 
 to breathe the air within the garden. Though 
 you will protect your Avehne, wilt thou not, my 
 Plantagenet ?" said the bright girl, with the 
 eloquence of a Nubian voice. 
 
 " Yea, by St. George ! to the death, dearest ;
 
 240 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 yea — and against the whole world m arms. 
 I am now under sanctuary in Blackfriars 
 for a while, and wilt see thou art not, dur- 
 ing my stay, further molested. But I fear me 
 much Aveline, my sweet love, that manifold 
 are the dangers which beset us both ere our 
 union can be accomplished. But oft do I think 
 that you, my beautiful, should not cast yourself 
 away upon a being so lone as I am. I have 
 naught to offer, methinks, in return for thy 
 devotion, but the unbounded and endless love 
 with which I worship thee, and will until my 
 soul scapes its earthly prison." 
 
 " Sweet Mother Mary, hear him ! And deem 
 you, my Richard, that I of all women do not 
 know how to prize the sole devotion of a noble 
 heart infinitely beyond the most glittering 
 parade of wealth and station." 
 
 " And thou lovest me beyond all, and will 
 remain devoted through all. Oh, assure me of 
 this beyond doubt, an I wist not a brighter hope 
 can bloom this side of earth's last morrow ! " 
 exclaimed the transported lover.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD.' 241 
 
 " I swear it, in our blissful Lady's name ; and 
 let this act attest it," exclaimed the fond girl, 
 rising and — albeit she blushed to the hues of the 
 peony — imprinting with her trembling lips on 
 her lover's brow a wild pressure. She avoided 
 not the further tribute of love's celebration; 
 for, ere she could escape, she was locked in 
 Plantagenet's arms, and then, yielding to the 
 wild enthralment, their lips mutually sealed 
 their troth in one long, passionate, and pure 
 embrace, such as loving spirits may exchange 
 when they are re- united in heaven, after a long 
 separation on earth. Clasped thus, they re- 
 sembled a life-painting of Prometheus fondling 
 a statue of Venus. A torrent of mutual pro- 
 testations, pledges, and oaths ratified their love- 
 ordained betrothal. 
 
 It was an antepast of Heaven — that com- 
 munion of true souls. Naught dimmed the 
 azure brightness of their sky, not a cloudy speck 
 uprose in their horizon to mar its lustre. A 
 mighty magician had cast his wondrous spells 
 around them, whose wand had transformed all 
 
 M
 
 M2 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 gloom and doubt into the most luminous fan- 
 tasies of glory and sweetness. They breathed, 
 conversed, and imaged as if they were of a truth 
 wandering in some ideal world of splendour, 
 beauty and delight. They saw not the snake 
 in the grass, nor detected the poison in the cup. 
 Firm in their mutual faith, they believed in the 
 atmosphere of hope which surrounded them, 
 and that all things, as balanced in their glowing 
 reveries, would work together for their mutual 
 good. But this fine fabric of hope, raised at so 
 august a moment by the calenture of their warm 
 imaginations, was destined, ere long, to suffer 
 a violent overthrow. 
 
 " Their souls were singing at a work apart, 
 Behind the wall of sense ; as safe from harm 
 As sings the lark when sucked up out of sight 
 In vortices of glory and blue air." 
 
 They discerned not the alloy that lurked 
 within the cup of bliss of which they sought to 
 quaff, nor imaged the spectral demi- devil that 
 lurked nigh to snatch it from their grasp, ere
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 243 
 
 they e'en sipped of its honied nectar. They 
 escried not, even in some remoteness, the iron 
 fate, albeit in human guise and form it even 
 then beset them, and which, ere many suns 
 had set and risen, would interpose and break 
 their enamoured chain, and then — 
 
 " They must let go hands, 
 And in between them would rush the torrent world, 
 To blanch their faces like divided rocks, 
 And bar for ever mutual sight and sound, 
 Except through swell of spray and all that roar." 
 
 They saw naught of disappointment, naught 
 of sorrow, naught of gloom, naught of despite, 
 but were lost to all mischievous forebodings in 
 their impossible fond fancies. Their medita- 
 tions, their heart utterances, formed a vague, 
 delicious dream, which we cannot presume to 
 follow into its wilderness of flowering and sunny 
 hopes. And from these they woke not until 
 the sudden entrance of Dan Theodulph, who, in 
 his anxiety to disturb and shorten the lovers' 
 meeting, had outstripped the more dignified 
 
 M 2
 
 244 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 advance of Master Cromwell. He glared upon 
 the handsome and well-assorted pair with the 
 gleam of the iron furnace by night — so grim, so 
 lurid, so full of tumultuous passion, while an 
 unborn earthquake was vibrating within the 
 dark chaos of his soul. There was, however, 
 naught in the position of the young couple at 
 the moment, to give strength or add certainty 
 to his worst, most truculent thoughts and 
 inclinings, though the flushed faces, the swim- 
 ming eyes, and the tremulous tones, warned 
 and admonished him to provide against — while 
 he dreaded — the worst. He, however, in his 
 priestly guile, uttered nothing at that time, save 
 to apprise the lovely Aveline he required her 
 attendance in the Chapel of our Lady within 
 the monastery ere mid- day to-morrow. Crom- 
 well and the young knight soon after departed, 
 the former avowing that, for his long tarriance 
 within Blackfriars, his Grace and Master would 
 keep him the major portion of the night astir 
 in questioning him as to his absence and his 
 doings.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. '245 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ^^t ^txpni anir its ^u«. 
 
 JgjHEPiE was a profound pause, an utter 
 silence for several minutes after the young 
 knight and Cromwell had withdrawn. The 
 beauteous Aveline was, as it were, fearstruck 
 to taciturnity ; for though, as a dutiful and 
 earnest devotee of the Romish faith, she had 
 spoken in praise of her self- constituted confes- 
 sor, and would avow no ill concerning him, 
 yet there was more of fear than love, more of 
 superstition than faith, in her feelings towards 
 the dark-browed monk. While with him were 
 the throes of a mighty volcano at work within, 
 precluding for a while all power of utterance 
 and composure, in the wild thronging of his 
 vulture passions. 
 
 " Thou must know, daughter, I am not
 
 M6 
 
 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 unmindful of you," he said, at last, in tones 
 fraught with sadness and gloom. "I have 
 tarried to heai' thee unburthen thy soul of all 
 the pernicious stuff yon fair- seeming youth hath 
 clogged its pure channels withal." 
 
 " Nay, father. Thou wrongest him, he never 
 utters a word or a thought that hath yet made 
 my heart staille, or my cheek to flush," replied 
 Aveline, with ingenuous warmth, not unmarked. 
 
 " Alas ! trusting innocent, thou knowest not 
 how Judasly the fairest-seeming of men, sith 
 the days of Adam's dotage, do oft-times with 
 honied words and gentle acts betray," said Dan 
 Theodulph with a gloomy sigh. 
 
 " I have done and will do all that humanity 
 can, to redeem my soul from its impurity. In 
 my doubt and need I ever pray to our Lady, 
 who I doubt not hears, and will behke preserve 
 me from all betrayal," replied Aveline earnestly. 
 
 " Thou art over- confident in the efficacy of 
 thy own vntuous humanity and occasional 
 prayers. Howbeit I would have thee remember 
 daughter, that no generous leaven ferments in
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 247 
 
 the bosom of the present generation. All is 
 but seeming. Virtue and truth do not now 
 take the lead in the administration of events or 
 things, as will evidence the eternal Triad in 
 Heaven," said Dan Theodulph in his impressive, 
 and at times most musical tones. 
 
 Aveline answered nothing, her trust and faith 
 in the beloved object of her heart's idolatry was 
 too firm, her own virgin love too strong and 
 pure, to be for a moment causes of doubt, or to 
 form the subject matter of discussion with a 
 third party, even though that one was her OT\n 
 confessor and tutelary father. But who, to 
 look on her as she sat on that eve, listening 
 with respectful attention to the words of the 
 dark monk her companion, could doubt her 
 seraphic innocence and pmity ? She seemed to 
 weai' invisibly the cestus that gave the dominion 
 of beauty to the foam-sprung goddess of the 
 Greeks. Dan Theodulph himself must have 
 been stirred to some such conclusion, as he 
 gazed devouringly on the young girl, watching 
 each sudden flush or languid glow on her open
 
 248 BLACKFKIARS ; 
 
 speaking face, for he, after a sliort pause, and 
 with eager emotion, proceeded — 
 
 *^ Thou art, sweet child, of the fine flour of 
 of the body of the Church, art part of her 
 purest leaven. Of a troth thou art the offering 
 already accepted by the Almighty, and con- 
 secrated upon his celestial altars. Jesu is even 
 now thy spouse, thy father, thy friend, thy 
 inheritance, thy Lord and thy God, our new 
 and most gentle Euphrasia." 
 
 " I am not worthy, father, for so august a 
 life," retorted Aveline evasively. 
 
 " Then must thou, by vigil and prayer, make 
 thyself so. Thou mayest mind thee of that 
 blessed Euphrosyne of old, to whom thou shalt 
 be twin sister, who, at an earlier age, deserting 
 father and husband, fled, concealing her sex, to 
 pass her life in a hallowed monastery. Ah ! 
 well-beloved sister, I pray thee understand the 
 ardent desire which inspires my — thy brother's 
 — heart, is to see thee with Jesu. Thou art, I 
 trow, the better part of myself. Our Lady fore- 
 fend aught of evil should scathe thee. Woe to
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 249 
 
 me if another take thee. Thou art my bul- 
 wark with Christ, my cherished pledge, my holy 
 guide, and through whom I shall be worthy to 
 issue forth of the abyss of my sins, as our Blessed 
 Lady bears witness." 
 
 " No ; this, father, cannot be. What thou 
 dost urge me to do concerning the fulfilment of 
 my phght to our Lady cannot, must not, now 
 come to pass. Our Lady was human once, she can 
 understand my misgivings, and will not demand 
 of me a sacrifice which would be at best but an 
 hypocritical assuming," replied Aveline, with 
 sudden energy, while blushing like the lily, her 
 protot}^3e, beneath a sudden flash of sunshine. 
 
 " Hath then the fiend, in the guise and voice 
 of this bo}dsh knight, who in his mispride 
 deems himself the equal of kings and nobles, 
 already had so great power over thee ? Sancta 
 Maria! I do most earnestly pray not. The 
 Devil is very subtle, and is well called the 
 Prince of Air ; but I must needs hope no such 
 sacrilege as the rape of a heart betrothed to 
 Heaven hath been already accomplished," said 
 
 M 3
 
 250 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 Dan Theodulph, in extreme perturbation, albeit 
 with vulture eagerness, while bloodless waxed 
 his visage. 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should do aught un- 
 worthy of a maiden's honour, or a maiden's 
 God. I am but what I w^as made, perchance 
 somewhat more wretched than others, in that 
 I cannot worship Him who made me, in the 
 teeming wealth and beauties of Nature ; but 
 well I know I am not fitted, as I am not 
 worthy, to enter religion, and consecrate myself 
 as the spouse of Heaven," replied Aveline, with 
 fervour. 
 
 " Sayest thou so in truth, and yet knowest 
 not thou speakest sacrilege. Oh, Jesu-Maria ! 
 how cometh this evil mischance to pass ? The 
 saints enhghten me, for what shall hap to this 
 starred soul which hath wandered from so proud 
 an orbit to such perturbed and unholy regions 
 of night and gloom?" muttered Dan Theodulph, 
 in Bf dark rumination. 
 
 " Are you adread of any further mischance 
 happeniug to me, father? I am in no wise full
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 251 
 
 certain of my own safety," said Aveline per- 
 plexedly. 
 
 " The more earnest, then, is the necessity my 
 beauteous daughter, that thou shouldst seek in 
 the poor foundation of our Lady of the Assump- 
 tion, at Clerkenwell, the safety and surety for 
 thy pearliness which the world cannot give thee. 
 Hast thou not thyself, this eve, beheld how 
 nigh the wolves prowl round the fold, and how 
 boldly they fell upon thee my snowy one, in the 
 absence of your spiritual shepherd ?" 
 
 " Urge me not further on this point ; at least, 
 not now," said Aveline, plaintively. 
 
 " I cannot rest, dear child, until I have 
 placed thee in the barque of refuge, and seen 
 thee glidmg therein towards the sunny shores 
 of celestial Eden, where thou mayest ever 
 browse on the golden mint and thyme of the 
 Eternal Paradise, and bask beneath the glories 
 of Sinai's steeps. These court ravishers will 
 not let thee dwell in peace, I trow\ They will 
 return anon, when aidance may not be so nigh 
 thee ; and thou wilt then weep and gnash thy
 
 252 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 teeth, that thou hadst not saved thy virtue and 
 thyself in the sure abidance I urge on thee, but, 
 instead, hast wrought for thyself a sable and 
 lasting web of sorrow," persisted Dan Theodulph, 
 with edifying solemnity. 
 
 '^ Oh, father, speak not thus ! Jesu Maria ! 
 I shall fear danger in every sound, and fancy vio- 
 lence even lurketh in the murmurs of the wind," 
 exclaimed Aveline, with fear-struck visage. 
 
 " And well thou mayest. I will be near thee 
 as often as may be, but I cannot at all times 
 command my time or thy security. If you will 
 have certain safety, and would sleep o' nights in 
 peace, without, in thy soul's unrest being adread 
 of iron-hearted and steel-armed men iuroading 
 thy chamber, you will, without dallyance, my 
 best-loved daughter, seek the cloistral haven, 
 the fitting antepast of the Heavenly one to 
 come, and the sole sure stronghold sith Creation 
 peopled earth," said Dan Theodulph, with eyes 
 that sparkled strangely in the dark shadow of 
 the room. 
 
 " I must trust, natheless, in the protection of
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 253 
 
 our Blessed Lady, and to Him who died on the 
 holy rood, while, at the same time, relpng 
 somewhat on the arms of the flesh which thou, 
 father, and Richard Plantagenet, have promised 
 me," said Aveline. 
 
 " What, daughter ! and canst thou, after all 
 my teaching, put faith in any son of woman 
 born ? Ai't thou as the barren soil, wherein no 
 good seed takes root, and hkeunto the mockery 
 on Salem's throne?" said Dan Theodulph, in 
 an aflfected tone of disappointment and sorrow. 
 "What poison in a golden dish hath been 
 handed you, and who hath contended so 
 sathanically agamst my ministrations — the 
 earnest outpourings of long days and dreary 
 nights ? Daughter, be warned ere yet thou 
 losest thy abeady heavenly-betrothed soul in 
 the fearful maze of worldly affections, and 
 sharest some unknown immortality of agonies. 
 Thou knowest not this youth as do I ; but of 
 his antecedents and his present leanings I will 
 some while hence apprize thee, when worse will 
 appear against him than thy gentle, trustful
 
 254 
 
 nature doth image ; and when the whole mask 
 of his hypocrisy will be stripped off to the 
 wondering light of the sun. But it misdoubts 
 me, that he must be a wizai'd, sithence it seems 
 he hath thus trammelled thee with his spells, 
 which else should have fallen on thy vestal soul, 
 like vapours from Avernus." 
 
 Aveline was about to reply rather warmly in 
 her lover's defence, when words might have 
 been uttered, which would have avowed more 
 than the suspicions of her confessor had already 
 opened his eyes to ; and that enlightenment 
 might have led to more disastrous results than 
 even the disclosure at a subsequent time 
 brought about. Albeit Aveline More little 
 suspected the nature of the struggle kindled in 
 her confessor's bosom, it needs not we should 
 now affirm that Dan Theodulph loved his 
 beauteous penitent — ^loved her with that cruel 
 flame which devours men's very marrow, with 
 that worship which naught but the fierceness of 
 cloistral passion can equal. The feeling was 
 as hopeless as it was fierce. He could not
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD, 255 
 
 altogether control, and would not attempt to 
 smother it. He joyed in feeling the scorching 
 of the subtle flame ; for to the sultr}^ monk it 
 was so delicious and so irresistible, albeit so 
 dangerous, a happiness to gaze upon her, to 
 listen to her charmed voice, to feel the fanning 
 of her graceful movements sweep by him like 
 the zephyrs of Eden, that he could not, nay, 
 would not, shun the magic of her presence, or 
 seek to deprive himself of its ruinous joys. He 
 had raised to his lips the flaming draught of 
 passion, had smelt the rare perfume of its nectar, 
 and sought not to dash it aside ere he drank 
 of it, though the humming in the tempting cup 
 resolved itself to his conscience-struck ear into 
 a purgatorial dirge. He ventured not to give 
 utterance to his fell passion or flagitious reveries. 
 One who had studied hypocrisy as essential to 
 all his ambitious projects and dark-laid schemes 
 of raising himself to some proud eminency in 
 the church, and of otherwise securing the desh'es 
 of his secret soul, was not likely at this stage 
 of his existence to break down incautiously and
 
 256 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 irredeemably. The unfathomable gulfs of guile 
 within were ever most carefully cloaked, and at all 
 times closely guarded by his shut soul's hypocrisy. 
 And this being so, surely minstrels and jongleurs 
 do not all lie, who assert that there are no 
 passions so remorseless and cruel as the raven- 
 ing of hopeless love or suppressed jealousy. 
 Loving his charge so mightily, yet withal so 
 hopelessly, would that dark di^ead monk have 
 suffered a rival, or, recognizing one, have 
 spai'ed him in his hate and fury ? But, at that 
 time, the disclosure was not consummated ; for, 
 ere Avehne could utter words of more bewraying 
 import, the door of the apartment opened, and 
 a gentleman of noble carriage and thoughtful 
 mien entered. His face lit up wondrously — as 
 doth all of darkness whereon shines the re- 
 splendent sun — when he beheld Aveline, who, 
 recognizing with amazing instinct the visitor's 
 step, rushed joyously foiivard to gi'eet him, 
 exclaiming the while — 
 
 " Thou art returned, my father. Oh, welcome, 
 most welcome, my dear, dear father !"
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD, 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Sir Clj0mas "^m—^^t €k oi a Storm, 
 
 JSJHIS great and learned man, so justly ad- 
 mired for his domestic virtues and for bis 
 political integrity, under the manifold trials to 
 which they were exposed, was the son of Sir 
 John More, a knight, and one of the judges of 
 the King's Bench. He was born in Milk Street, 
 London, in the year 1480, and was educated 
 in the neighbourhood, at a school of some note 
 in that age, under the guardian inspection of 
 his father, who devoted much time to his son's 
 improvement. The wondrous genius and sweet 
 docility of the latter well repaid the solicitude 
 of the former, who had the satisfaction of see- 
 ing his son, at the early age of sixteen, dis- 
 tinguished at his college, Christ Church, Oxford,
 
 258 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 for his classical and scientific attainments. He 
 left his academical residence after a two years' 
 studious sojourn, and thereupon applied himself 
 to the study of the law, first at New Inn, and 
 afterwards at Lincoln's Inn, of which his father 
 was an honoured member. On being called 
 to the bar he soon distinguished himself, assum- 
 ing a prominent position amid the rising 
 celebrities of that day, and was begining to 
 acqune a high legal reputation, when his mind 
 took a sudden turn in favour of monastic life 
 — one of those unaccountable predilections or 
 changes to which the human mind, like the 
 wind of heaven, is ever prone, but for which 
 there is no satisfactory accounting. 
 
 Thereupon, for a considerable period, he 
 secluded himself from the world, and in the 
 cloistral chill and retirement of the Charter- 
 house he spent his days and nights in stem 
 devotion and severe austerities ; such as wear- 
 ing coarse horse-hair shirts next his skin, 
 observing frequent fasts, and slumbering on a 
 bare plank — the while, however, assiduously
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 26Q 
 
 prosecuting his scholastic studies. From this 
 course of existence, he was, through his father's' 
 earnest sohcitations, induced to emerge, and 
 to resume his station at the bai\ His rising 
 fame soon after procui'ed him the office of 
 reader at Furnival's Inn, and, by a strange 
 admixture of sacred and civil ohhgations, he 
 concurrently read public lectures in the church 
 of St. Lawrence, Old Jewry, on Augustine's 
 celebrated work De Civitate Dei, He was evi- 
 dently out of his natural element at the bar, 
 for his leanings were all in favour of theolo- 
 gical subjects and a cenobitical life. So much so 
 that at this time he again entertained serious 
 intentions of becoming a Franciscan friar. 
 This desh'e was, however, dispelled by the 
 more powerful charm of a matrimonial alliance 
 with the eldest daughter of John Colt, Esq., of 
 Newhall, in Essex ; who, however, survived the 
 auspicious event by only a few years, and by 
 whom, as the wife of his first tender aflfections, 
 he had issue one daughter, his well-beloved 
 child and our beauteous heroine, Aveline.
 
 260 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 He was by this time, as- a lawyer, at the head 
 of his profession, and ere long took the lead at 
 the bar. In 1508 he was appointed judge of 
 the Sheriflfs' Court in the City, and received 
 other honourable distinctions. Thus advancing 
 in legal fame and worldly esteem, he attracted 
 the special notice of Cardinal Wolsey, who 
 then sat at the helm of public affairs, and by 
 whom, in company with Bishop Tunstall and 
 ])r. Knight, in 1514, he was despatched on a 
 diplomatic mission for the purpose of renewing 
 the alliance with the Archduke of Austria, after- 
 wards Charles V. On his return from this well- 
 conducted mission, he was offered a pension by 
 the king, which, however, he declined, but in 
 lieu thereof accepted the post of Master of the 
 Requests thereupon proffered to him. Soon 
 after he was created a knight, and admitted a 
 member of the Privy Council. At this time he 
 entered into a second matrimonial engagement, 
 and with a lady who, according to biographers, 
 found her counterpart in Shakespeare's shrew ; 
 without the excuse, however, of possessing that
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 2G1 
 
 celebrated dame's beauty. Being at this time a 
 daily visitant at Court, he became a special 
 favourite with the king, who appears to have 
 been charmed with his vivacity and conversa- 
 tional powers, and to have consulted him freely 
 on matters of statecraft, placing great reliance on 
 his judgment and clearsighted policy.* Sir 
 Thomas More was too true a philosopher not 
 to understand the precaiious tenm^e of courtly 
 favour; and this preknowledge, added to his 
 affectionate regard towards his family, and the 
 superior enjoyment he ever found in domestic 
 life, induced him gradually to lessen his attend- 
 ances at Court, assuming purposely a graver 
 deportment, in lieu of that natural facetious- 
 ness which had hitherto made him the life of 
 the royal circle. 
 
 The king, notwithstanding, continued to 
 bestow on his faithful servant the most sub- 
 stantial proofs of his royal regard ; and on the 
 death of the Chancellor — Treasurer as he was 
 
 * Erasmus.
 
 262 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 then more appropriately designated — of tlie 
 Exchequer, in 1520, appointed More his suc- 
 cessor. Through the same royal influence, in 
 1523, he was chosen Speaker of the House of 
 Commons. Here he opposed Wolsey, and was 
 the means of preventing the levy of an oppres- 
 sive subsidy. Wolsey appeared in the Cham- 
 ber of Parliament, then holden in Blackfriars, 
 with a royal message, requiring the sum of 
 .£800,000, and proposed to the assembled mem- 
 bers that it should be raised by a property tax of 
 twenty per cent. The reader, by this historical 
 episode, will perceive that the originators of the 
 present similar tax are not to be credited with 
 any very great power of invention. The Cardinal 
 having in vain attempted to break the pre- 
 determined and obstinate silence of the House, 
 addi'essed himself to the Speaker, who respect- 
 fully intimated to him that no debate could 
 proceed in his presence. The Cai^dinal, it 
 would appear, afterwards sent for the Speaker, 
 and, upon his attendance, exclaimed, " Would to 
 God, Master More, you had been at Eome
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 263 
 
 when I made you Speaker." '' Your Grace not 
 oflfended," replied he, " so would I too, my 
 lord." 
 
 Such, however, was his integrity, that his 
 independent conduct contributed to his pro- 
 motion, and, in addition to the other honours 
 and posts which he held, the chancellorship 
 of the duchy of Lancaster was bestowed upon 
 him, and he was at the same time made trea- 
 surer of the household. Henry, in short, 
 appeared determined to engage Sir Thomas 
 effectually to his interests ; and, in consequence, 
 cultivated the most familiar acquaintance with 
 him, frequently condescending to visit him at 
 Chelsea, where Sir Thomas More had erected 
 a stately mansion on the then verdant and 
 pleasant banks of the Thames. But, if Henry 
 had discernment enough to value the character 
 of this one-time favourite, the latter was equally 
 alert to the transitoriness of regal regard. 4^d, 
 as an illustration of this remark, we give the 
 following anecdote. The king, having been 
 seen walking in the gardens of his favourite at
 
 264 BLACKFRIAES; 
 
 Chelsea, for a long time with his arm thrown 
 famiharly over Sir Thomas's shoulder, one of 
 the latter 's sons-in-law afterwards observed, 
 that he must feel particularly gratified, on being 
 upon such intimate terms with the king; to 
 which More replied, " I thank the Lord I find 
 his Grace to be a very good master indeed, and 
 believe he is as partial to me as to any subject 
 within his realm : but yet I have no cause to 
 presume on his favour ; for, if my head could 
 win him a castle in France, it would not long 
 remain on my shoulders."'' 
 
 In the years 1526 and 1529, Su* Thomas 
 More was employed with Wolsey, Tunstall, and 
 others, in various embassies on the continent. 
 He was, during the same periods, engaged in 
 correspondence with Erasmus and other learned 
 men, and undertook, with earnest zeal, to de- 
 fend the king by a violent attack on Martin 
 Luther, who had published several severe ani- 
 madversions on the royal assumption of the 
 memorable title, " Defender of the Faith." 
 
 * Roper.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 265 
 
 Dming the long-pending and persistent pro- 
 ceedings against Queen Catharine, and while 
 the ever-memorable affair of the royal divorce 
 divided the country. Sir Thomas More, from 
 the first and unto the last, inclined warmly and 
 unswervingly to the side of the Queen. 
 
 Though upholding, as he consistently did 
 throughout his life, even to fierce bigotry, the 
 cause of the Eoman Church, yet none could 
 detect the rogue's face under the cowl sooner 
 than he, or the proud bad heart under the 
 scarlet hat ; and while few men had ventured 
 to speak thek thoughts more freely or boldly, 
 yet many and oft were the occasions on which 
 be checked freedom of speech in others by the 
 timely warning, " Men's thoughts are free — 
 provided, they utter them not." 
 
 The love of our country implies virtues so 
 numerous, that, hke unto the honour of a 
 woman, no amount of other qualities can com- 
 pensate for its absence. With Sir Thomas 
 More the pm^e flame burnt ever bright and 
 lustrous, and his was a mind as ardently
 
 :^66 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 patriotic, as it was strongly and mystically 
 religious, the truth whereof his unspotted 
 public life and shameful martyrdom too well 
 avouched. 
 
 Such shortly, up to the point to which we have 
 brought our chronicle, were the antecedents of 
 the celebrated personage who broke in so 
 opportunely upon the discourse being holden 
 between his best beloved daughter, and the 
 haught monk, her confessor. Aveline was, as we 
 have stated, the sole issue of his first marriage, 
 and on his perceiving that, under the jealous 
 custody and repellant harshness of his second 
 wife, she was neglected and browbeaten, he 
 furnished an old mansion he had some time 
 previously purchased within the exempt precincts 
 of Blackfriars, and inducted her therein as mis- 
 tress, under the fostering care and gentle nurture 
 of her old nurse. Dame Agatha ; and here, for 
 many years, had she dwelt in peace and safety, 
 unnoticed by her proud and haughty stepmother, 
 but subject to the daily visitation and instruction 
 of a fatlier, most dearly beloved and cherished.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 267 
 
 These visits were never neglected, even amid 
 his voluminous occupations in statecraft. The 
 morning's sun and the evening's mist both 
 witnessed, as a general rule, to his double 
 diurnal visitations. More loved, more dearly 
 prized, than king, country, ambition, state, 
 family, and friends, was that sweet face and 
 form, the only memento left him of his bhssful 
 early days. 
 
 " And how doth my sweet child ? Is she 
 cheer}'? Is she well?" he asked as he gazed 
 affectionately at the gentle, lovely girl. 
 
 '* She is both, my most dear father ! 
 Passingly so, since thou hast again visited her,' 
 she warmly exclaimed. 
 
 " That's well ; for 'tis soirj work to mope in 
 these portentous times, when the clouds in the 
 horizon are so dark, and the alarms so many 
 and vague," said her father. 
 
 "And how standest thou in favour with our 
 fearfal King ?" demanded Aveline anxiously. 
 
 " The King is gi^acious, fair daughter mine, 
 and all goes well with me as a roasting goose," 
 
 N 2
 
 S68 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 replied Sir Thomas, in his usual vivacious tone. 
 " But pray be seated, dan monk, and do thou, 
 Aveline, having all means of dispense and luxury 
 at command, see what your cellar and buttery 
 can furnish us ; for we shall be the better, I 
 trow, of a little feasting." 
 
 " Supper will be ready anon, an it please you 
 to tarry till then," said Aveline. 
 
 " Tarry till then ? Ay, and perchance a while 
 longer, sithence I do not purpose to leave this 
 my mansion in Blackfriars till cock-crow to- 
 morrow, seeing I have need to give myself a 
 night's quiet reasoning," returned Sir Thomas, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Oh ! that is rare news, indeed, good my 
 father. I will at once to Agatha, and have all 
 put in readiness for your comfort," said Aveline, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " Do so, dearest child, and let it be your 
 primal task ; for I have other matters to attend 
 to, that take up the major part of my thoughts 
 as a sponge the water it is set in." 
 
 Aveline thereupon departed to attend to her
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 269 
 
 household arrangements, which no good house- 
 wife in those days neglected by engaging servile 
 deputies. 
 
 " How now, good father ? What is there of 
 new ? What matters of import hath of late 
 occurred within thy scope ? " demanded Sir 
 Thomas, turning to Dan Theodulph, who, during 
 the short colloquy between the father and 
 daughter, had remained apart buried in a fit of 
 gloomy and agitated thought. 
 
 " That which hath occurred, Master More, 
 is but the presage of similar dark events which 
 have aforetime happed, and which have and 
 shall render these times ominous, and which no 
 glories shall mark as they speed away in the 
 vast track of ages gone," repHed the monk. 
 
 ^' Why, God-a-mercy! hath any mischance 
 happed ? " eagerly questioned Sir Thomas. 
 
 " Naught that I ween, save that Master 
 Cromwell, whose appearance beai's ever a 
 strange kinship to the premonitory signs pre- 
 ceding some wild convulsion of nature, hath 
 been amongst us this afternoon," replied Dan 
 Theodulph.
 
 270 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 *' Ha ! my worthy friend and co-mate. Nay, 
 by the holy Paul I dan monk, I should liken his 
 coming to some bright meteor of happier pro- 
 mise. But he, nathenoubt, came hither to have 
 speech of your lord prior, and to deliver his 
 Grace the Cardinal's decretal respecting the 
 court to be re-holden on the morrow." 
 
 " Something of that, methinks, I heard was 
 his business," said the monk. *' But canst say. 
 Master More, how leans his Grace for to- 
 morrow's decision ? " 
 
 ^' Ho, by my fay ! wouldst pump me of my 
 secrets ?" exclaimed More, with a laugh. "Nay, 
 my lord monk, thou forgettest I have, ere this, 
 learnt somewhat of monkcraft, and am, there- 
 fore, acknowledged of the timely axiom to keep 
 the ears ever open while the mouth is sealed. 
 * Trust none, fear none,' is a good old saw, and, 
 methinks moreover, thou wouldst not o'er much 
 like to chew the cud of mine intelhgence, which 
 would astony and might affright thee." 
 
 " I asked Master More, as one who hath an 
 interest in the case of our worthy Queen, of
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. S7l 
 
 whom I wotted you were no mean advocate," 
 retorted the monk, with dignified humiHty. 
 
 " Ha ! say you so ? If such be thy bias, good 
 father, give me thy hand, and welcome to the 
 little I know. His Grace our Cardinal, and 
 Campeius of Rome, who cometh as the dele- 
 gate of the sire of kings, ai^e attuned as to their 
 decision, and are in sooth, predetermined to 
 deliver judgment on the morrow adverse to the 
 King's intent and wishes." 
 
 '^ Laiidamus Deum. Heaven prosper that 
 gear," said the monk, with vi^dd eagerness. 
 " But what saith the King ? I trow he will not 
 bear this new curb o'er lightly." 
 
 " He is in merry mood, this eve ; and harkee, 
 holy father, I overheard him whispering Mistress 
 Anne, or, as we should term her, in pursuance 
 of her new patent, the Marchioness of Pem- 
 broke, and perchance by addition, as Dame 
 Rumour doth very somdy report, by the more 
 haught titles of royal wife and queen," said 
 More, somewhat thoughtfully. 
 
 '^ Nay, God and our Lady forbid ! That were,
 
 272 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 indeed, an untoward entanglement of the 
 webbed skein of public policy," exclaimed the 
 monk, amazedly. 
 
 " Gad's my life ! I do not of a certainty 
 avouch it to be so. I only tell thee that Dame 
 Kumour is already busy with what his Majesty 
 is determined on, if, by St. George, he hath not 
 already complished," said More. 
 
 " But what, by the mass ! heard you pass be- 
 tween them ?" eagerly inquired Dan Theodulph. 
 
 " This, my lord monk, and I trow no deeper 
 meaning could be implied. He whispered her 
 in his love-sick tones, ' Most virtuous lady and 
 love of mine,' quoth he. ' to-morrow's judg- 
 ment shall seal our union, and witness your 
 exaltation, if Harry of England be king." 
 
 " Said he so ? Hath he imaged such a com- 
 plot, such a result as that?" questioned Dan 
 Theodulph aghastly. 
 
 " Beshrew me ! Of a verity those were his 
 very words ; nothing more or nothing less at 
 that time, I trow, at least to my hearing," 
 replied Sir Thomas More.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 273 
 
 " Miserere mei Dens I how ill seemetli the 
 flowing of the tide for the morrow !" gloomily 
 commented the monk. 
 
 " And mark ye monk, we need not Master 
 Verstegans' abstruse and cabalistic lore, nor his 
 readings of those dim worlds above us, to fore- 
 doom what shall follow on to-morrow's decision, 
 the echo whereof shall set all London agape. 
 The Cardinal and the King are each bent on a 
 judgment in accordance with their own specific 
 views, his Grace will pronounce his, and there- 
 with wreck his earthly glory. The King, who 
 hath brooked o'er much already, will on the 
 moment disgrace him. The Cardinal will fall 
 to rise no more. I ween well it will be so, and 
 in despisal, too, of my best counsels," said More, 
 in a serious and anxious tone. 
 
 " Woe, woe is me ! Canst not his Grace be 
 advised to temper awhile longer? He is no 
 Demosthenes to push matters after this fashion. 
 'Tis madness to beard his lion King thus, who 
 might perchance, by a well- seasoned delay, be
 
 274 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 got to tire of or to mistrust this newly-acquired 
 light-o'-love," urged Dan Theodulph anxiously. 
 
 " Certes no. Wisdom is not always thatched 
 by grey hah's, and the time for temporising is, 
 I ween, agone. For I o'erheard this much 
 more pass between the King and his Grace, 
 on the latter's departing this e'en from the 
 palace of Bridewell. ' Look to it, look to it, 
 I say, my Cardinal King,' quoth he. 'We 
 -have raised you to an over- dangerous great- 
 ness, since it o'er-shadows ourself at last. But 
 please ye remember, the builder can also de- 
 stroy. Look to it then, I am determined on my 
 release ; unbind me an thou hopest for favour ; 
 loosen me not and deserve what of a surety I 
 will not spare,'" 
 
 " And what urged you, Master More. Have 
 ye not had speech of his Majesty ?" demanded 
 the sub -prior in evident disconcertment. 
 
 " That have I. But what of that. Think 
 to turn sooner the rushing toiTent of some 
 mountain stream, than Heniy of England from
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 2 t 5 
 
 his once bent will, or from his many quips and 
 crajiksj" replied More. 
 
 " Wilt tell me what chanced?" said the monk. 
 
 " List you — that passed between us which 
 makes the ground I stand on tremble beneath 
 my feet, and my head to keep it company on 
 my shoulders," returned Sir Thomas More, with 
 a profound sigh. "An it were not for the duty 
 I owe my most Gracious Queen, my way to the 
 woolsack I should deem lay smoothly enow — 
 peradventure as an it were all the way there 
 over a satin pathway ordained by the great 
 Parent of the Universe. But I am the ser- 
 vant of a kingi, dependent on a gusty breath, 
 which is as like at any moment to puff me out 
 of existence altogether, as to blow me into a 
 more glorious blaze. But if an evil star light 
 the path, of what avail is the picking our foot- 
 steps. It may not be that I shall be called 
 upon to urge aught in her Majesty's defence on 
 the morrow. I espy no reason why I should, 
 and in that case Wolsey falls to let me rise, 
 though an it were my pleasure, I am willing to
 
 S76 BLACKFRTARS ; 
 
 do all the work, and leave him the honours, 
 which are perchance the most dangerous of the 
 twain. But, by the Holy Cross, we are fore- 
 casting shadows, when most we need sunshine. 
 'Tis folly to croak thus, till after all blessed 
 things have ' gone to roost.' "
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 277 
 
 CH.IPTER XV. 
 
 %u historical ^Ijantasmajoria. 
 
 JS?0 give a clear and satisfactory elucidation of 
 the historic portion of our chronicle, to 
 colour it with artistic truth, and render it in 
 tone and transparency as near perfect as our 
 research and capacity will enable us, we are 
 forced at this point to lay before our no doubt 
 somewhat impatient reader a short resume of 
 pubhc affairs, tmsting that in so concise an 
 historical epitome we shall not be pronounced 
 too prosy, or be thought too tedious m the 
 development of our romance. 
 
 During the period now under review, occurred 
 some of the most memorable events which 
 English history records, while in it abounded 
 wise ministers, staid philosophers, gi^at cap- 
 tains, immortal poets, and chivalrous gentlemen
 
 278 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 The year 1485 had been remarkable as that 
 in which, as we have already shown, the war 
 betwixt the rival houses of York and Lancaster 
 was brought to a termination by the Battle of 
 Bosworth Field, and the death of the lion- 
 hearted Eichard ; whereupon the Earl of Rich- 
 mond ascended the English throne under the 
 title of Henry VII. By his subsequent mar- 
 riage with a princess of the rival family of York, 
 his son and successor was enabled to advance a 
 stronger hereditary claim to the throne by the 
 union of both houses in him, the princely issue. 
 Our object is not, however, to write an elaborate 
 commentary, but merely to record certain pro- 
 minent features during this memorable era of 
 England's history. 
 
 In the disorderly state of this country 
 under the Plantagenets, who governed it from 
 about the middle of the twelfth till towards 
 the end of the fifteenth century, it may be 
 observed that one district might be in the 
 enjoyment of peace and prosperity, while 
 another, at no great distance, by having its
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 279 
 
 lands laid waste, and its crops destroyed, either 
 by some visitation of nature (more frequent in 
 those times than now), or, as was more usually 
 the case, by the hostile mcursion of some 
 neighbouring baron, might be suffering all 
 the horrors of famine and desolation. Under 
 the more vigorous administration of the Tu- 
 dor s, who governed England during the latter 
 pai-t of the fifteenth century, and through the 
 whole of the sixteenth, no baron was powerful 
 enough to repeat similar injuries, or to disturb 
 the peace and security of the country.* 
 
 But among the various changes in the in- 
 ternal economy of England, which occmred 
 during this stirring period, assuredly none were 
 more memorable or merciful than that of the 
 Eeformation. It has been often observed, that 
 this splendid Eevolution of the Enghsh Church 
 was not the result of any wise or sober delibe- 
 ration, nor even the natural fruit of a great 
 popular improvement. There is indeed, very 
 
 * Smith's " Wealth of Nations."
 
 280 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 grave error in such a dogma ; for few important 
 revolutions have been accompHshed through the 
 direct influence of reason. In those instances 
 where attempts of the kind have been made, 
 failure has, for the most part, ensued, or at all 
 events the results have proved very inadequate 
 to the means employed, or the object aimed at; 
 the truth being that the speculations of the most 
 learned are far too uncertain substratums for 
 the movements or leanings of the multitude at 
 large. It will be no doubt borne in mind by all 
 readers of English history, that if Henry VIII. 
 was the prime mover of the Reformation in this 
 country, and began his measures from motives 
 more personal than public, the same has been 
 the case with reformers of much higher and 
 purer characters ; and that many of the grandest 
 and most beneficial changes ever revolutionized 
 in the world, have owed their first breath to 
 circumstances as widely at variance with the 
 result as the foul earth the richly scented, 
 brightly-coloured plant it nourishes. The care- 
 ful student or observer too, will, hardly fail to
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 281 
 
 discover a much stronger connection between 
 the Reformation in England and the state of 
 the community during the period under review, 
 than is at all times supposed to have been the 
 case. He will, by careful research, be able to 
 discern that there had long been a tendency in 
 the Church itself to break the bonds with which 
 the Roman pontiff had so long chained it 
 withal ; and will, moreover, perceive that this 
 tendency of the Church to liberate itself was 
 working with the slow but steady motion of the 
 hour-hand ; while simultaneously, public opinion 
 was careering on to the same lustrous point 
 with the celerity of the minute-hand. It was, 
 in fact, next to impossible, that a community 
 should be incessantly determined on resisting 
 the oft-attempted imposition of taxes, should 
 be equally resolved on saving their money by 
 every feasible and known plan of economy, 
 and not look with suspicion and dissatis- 
 faction upon the enormous revenue of the 
 clergy. Still more improbable was it, that while 
 advancinof in intelhcrence, while beginninor to
 
 292 BLACKFRIAKS ; 
 
 ledged as the power by which the highest inte- 
 rests were to be arranged; while those who 
 possessed it were at once raised to the most 
 conspicuous stations among the community. 
 
 The love of gaiety, courtly luxury and splen- 
 dour, the existence of the refined arts, which 
 at the same time distinguished the age, called 
 forth many a sparkling wit, many a learned 
 historian, and not a few painters and sculptors 
 whose renown yet lives. Nor were martial 
 glory or statecraft mere dead letters, or wanting 
 for the employment of talents of another de- 
 scription in that Machiavellian age. England, 
 though wont to stand in a side or central 
 position, as it were, to the contending interests 
 and discordant policies of the great Continental 
 powers, yet during the period under review had 
 its arms directed now against France, anon 
 against Spain, and for awhile, against its more 
 kinship humanity in Scotland and Ireland. 
 x\t the same time this country was not back- 
 ward in the search after unknown lands, 
 Sebastian Cabot havincj extended his discoveries
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 293 
 
 SO far as Newfoundland, almost as early as 
 Columbus, and it is worthy of notice that this 
 spirit, so far fi'om being thwarted, was warmly 
 approved and actively encouraged by ^Yolsey ; 
 and indeed, it has been fairly observed* that 
 the Cardinal, in addition to his strong passion 
 for the encouragement of science, art, and all 
 learning, became much interested, dm-ing the 
 whole com'se of his administration, in promoting 
 the trade and navigation of the country, fully 
 im'pressed with the conviction that industry, 
 prosperity, and wealth, would be the natural 
 consequences. 
 
 Such is a brief outline of the general aspect 
 of public affairs. Now to descend to particulars, 
 in which our characters moved as gi'eat actors 
 on the world's stage, enacting the drama of the 
 day, full as it was of terrible and momentous 
 interest. The Cranmers and the Gardiners, 
 the Ridleys and the Bonners, played their parts 
 passing well ; but they were, as it were, only 
 
 * Groves, vol. ix. p, 46.
 
 ^84 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 craft, no priestly fanaticism could ever trample 
 down or again extinguish. Lollardry, the great 
 seed of this same hhssful heresy, has a history 
 of its own, and was the forerunner, not the 
 originator, of the Reformation. Its supporters 
 bore a very close resemblance to the Puritans 
 of Elizabeth's reign. Of the many assaults and 
 counter-assaults made on behalf of and against 
 this wondrous heresy, we may mention the statute 
 passed in the 25th of Edward III., cap. 4, to 
 prevent the Pope from nominating officials to 
 monasteries and other valuable preferments ; 
 the further Acts of 38th Edward III., cap. 2 ; 
 3rd Richard II., cap. 3 ; 12th Richard II., cap. 
 15 ; and 13th Richard II., cap. 2 ; — all tending 
 to restrict the power and interference of Rome. 
 In 1389, the Pope threatened the censures of 
 the Church ; but Parliament declared that any 
 attempts to enforce such censures in the realm 
 would be punishable by death and forfeiture. 
 In 1360, John WiclifFe, born near Richmond, 
 in Yorkshire, merged into notoriety. "^ 
 * Lewis's '' Life of Wicliffe."
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 285 
 
 poor, and simple both in living and habits. 
 He formed ai'ound him a band of men who 
 thought much as he did, and who were self- 
 designated, " poor priests " — vowed to poverty 
 because our Redeemer was poor — vowed to 
 accept no benefice, for fear they might mis- 
 spend the property of the poor, and because, as 
 apostles, they were bound to journey whither 
 then- Master in heaven directed them. Wicliffe 
 died on the 31st December, 1434. The cause 
 of failure in his movement may be attributed 
 to want of judgment on his part, and to that 
 movement being in itself an untimely birth, 
 although, unlike earlier sectaries, his opinions 
 were embraced by men of rank and influence. 
 As a sequence to his failure, the ancient Church 
 received a reprieve for a century, albeit the 
 fire of heresy continued to smoulder, and, like 
 the fitful throes of the volcano, exploded occa- 
 sionally. The new birth of Protestantism — the 
 New Learning, as it was contemptuously deno- 
 minated by the partisans of the ancient order of 
 things — sprang up spontaneously in divers far-
 
 28 G BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 apart quarters, unguided, unprovoked, unnur- 
 tured, during the year 1525, at which period a 
 society was enrolled in London, styled " The 
 Association of Christian Brothers," whose paid 
 agents, like holy pedlars, wandered throughout 
 the land, distributing Testaments and tracts, 
 and enrolling members in their association.* 
 Almost simultaneously sprang into existence 
 another powerful theological sect at Cambridge, 
 who assumed the appellation of the " Brethren 
 of Jesus." Persecutions speedily followed, with 
 prison and holocaust in the background. But all 
 opposition was henceforth in vain. The seeds 
 had been sown upon a richly teeming soil, and the 
 harvest had been for some time ripening. Luther 
 had arisen, a star of glorious brilliancy, in the 
 year 1517, and to hear whom, in conjunction 
 with Melancthon, students from all quarters of 
 the great glo]ae pilgrimated to Wurtemberg, 
 and thither too, from England went Wilham 
 Tyndal. A goodly army quickly gathered around 
 
 * Froude's History.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 287 
 
 the banner of the Cross. Many, too, were the 
 gi'eat captains arising to conduct the Christian 
 warfai'e. There was Latimer, who was a voice 
 and not merely an echo, and who thereafter in 
 his lofty advancement stood forward between the 
 destroyer and destroyed, and, by his influence 
 with the imperious Henry, stayed in a measure 
 the flood of martyrology. There was Erasmus, 
 whose thoughts spouted fresh from the pure 
 fountain of Truth. There was Cranmer already 
 on his road to high preferment. There was 
 Bilney, who nobly redeemed his earlier apostacy 
 by martyrdom, at the place of cremation at 
 Smithfield. There was Tyndal, who furnished 
 the best weapons in translations of the Holy 
 Scriptures, and the most famed of German 
 books, and who had had reprinted in Antwerp 
 and sent to this country, Wiclifie's tracts and 
 original commentaries. There was Cromwell, the 
 malleus monachorum, who may fairly be designated 
 the great heretical general, and with whom were 
 many other worthies well known to history, and 
 dear to the ears and memory of Protestants, who
 
 288 BLACKFEIAKS ; 
 
 were, one and all, at that time closely united 
 in a blissful communion of heresy. 
 
 The direct causes of this great social and 
 moral revolution were numerous. But the main 
 one undoubtedly was, the wholesale corruption 
 of an artful though illiterate priesthood. " Bene- 
 fit of clergy " was, during those days, little better 
 than a title whereby sins were committed with 
 impunity. The grossest moral profligacy in a 
 priest was passed over with indifference, and so 
 far from exacting ennobling examples in her 
 ministers, the Church extended her limits 
 under fictitious pretexts as a sanctuary for 
 priestly villany.* The last form of corruption 
 in which the doomed Catholicism indulged, was 
 the profane enunciation, that all misfortunes 
 which flesh was heir to might be evaded by 
 means which resolved themselves, albeit flimsily 
 disguised, into money-payment redemption. 
 But a greater cancer than even this was dis- 
 covered in the commendation of certain crimes 
 
 * Froude's Hist.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 289 
 
 throughout the Dark Ages. Thus we read 
 that Gregory of Tours, a saint of the Church, 
 after lecturing upon a most atrocious story of 
 Clovis, wherein the murder of a prince whom 
 he had previously instigated to parricide was 
 recited, summed up hy way of moral, in these 
 words — " For God daily subdued his enemies 
 to his hand, and increased his kingdom, because 
 he walked before Him in uprightness, and did 
 what was pleasing in His eyes."* 
 
 Thus on all hands was the "infallible 
 guidance of the Church " fast falling into dis- 
 repute. Its one time all-penetrating light 
 had gone out, or was pronounced to be nothing 
 better than an ignis fatuus ; while men found 
 themselves wandering in darkness like the 
 blind, unknowing whither to go, what to think, 
 or who to believe. The nation was in a 
 ferment, seething and boiling like a witch's 
 chaldron of many incompatible and varied in- 
 gredients. Every paiish pulpit resounded with 
 
 * Hallam's IMiddle Ages, vol. ii. p. 369. 
 

 
 290 BLACKPRIARS ; 
 
 a dissertation on the divorce, or with an enume- 
 ration of the pressing perils of the CathoHc 
 church. At every village hostelry, the talk 
 was of St. Peter's keys, the sacrament, or the 
 Pope's supremacy. Although Henry had de- 
 declared himself to he '' Defender of the Faith," 
 yet his independent action, and open leaning 
 towards some of the great reforming leaders, 
 made interdict, excommunication, and the full 
 volume of the pigmy papal thunders loom dis- 
 pleasantly nigh. The wild fervour of religious 
 opinion, already kindled in dark places, was 
 heing carefully fanned until the fulness of time 
 should have come; when it should be allowed 
 to burst forth effulgently, with good tidings of 
 great joy, proclaiming the Reformation to be 
 lastingly achieved. 
 
 Looking at the general state of England, it 
 would seem that, under Henry YIII, the 
 body of the people were prosperous, well-to-do, 
 loyal, and contented. One author already 
 quoted* asserts that, "in all points of material 
 * Froude.
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 291 
 
 comfort, they were as well off as they had ever 
 been before, better off than they have ever been 
 in later times." It is certainly most true that 
 during this reign, and even after, men of every 
 degree of talent and of every class of character 
 or being, found themselves invested with new 
 importance, impelled to action by new impulses 
 coming both fi^om within and without, and 
 elected to perform duties which, if not alto- 
 gether novel, nevertheless had a pecuhar and 
 far wider range of influence. The gi^eat conflict 
 of the reforming division of the clergy with 
 those bigots who supported Romish doctrines 
 and discipline, thereafter called most eloquently 
 into play every particle of knowledge and ability 
 which either party possessed, or could call to 
 account. This blessed rivahy on behalf of 
 learning passed the Hmits of mere theological 
 disputations, and prospered in other soils both 
 far and near allied. Scholarship not only rose 
 in value among scholars, but became with the 
 multitude a recognized commodity of intelligi- 
 ble and palpable worth. It was quickly acknow- 
 
 2
 
 292 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 ledged as the power by which the highest inte- 
 rests were to be arranged; while those who 
 possessed it were at once raised to the most 
 conspicuous stations among the community. 
 
 The love of gaiety, courtly luxury and splen- 
 dour, the existence of the refined arts, which 
 at the same time distinguished the age, called 
 forth many a sparkling wit, many a learned 
 historian, and not a few painters and sculptors 
 whose renown yet lives. Nor were martial 
 glory or statecraft mere dead letters, or wanting 
 for the employment of talents of another de- 
 scription in that Machiavellian age. England, 
 though wont to stand in a side or central 
 position, as it were, to the contending interests 
 and discordant policies of the great Continental 
 powers, yet during the period under review had 
 its arms directed now against France, anon 
 against Spain, and for awhile, against its more 
 kinship humanity in Scotland and Ireland. 
 At the same time this country was not back- 
 ward in the search after unknown lands, 
 Sebastian Cabot having extended his discoveries
 
 293 
 
 so far as Newfoundland, almost as early as 
 Columbus, and it is worthy of notice that this 
 spirit, so far fi'om being thwarted, was warmly 
 approved and actively encouraged by Wolsey ; 
 and indeed, it has been fairly observed* that 
 the Cardinal, in addition to his strong passion 
 for the encouragement of science, art, and all 
 learning, became much interested, during the 
 whole com'se of his administration, in promoting 
 the trade and navigation of the country, fully 
 im'pressed with the conviction that industry, 
 prosperity, and wealth, would be the natural 
 consequences. 
 
 Such is a brief outhne of the general aspect 
 of public affairs. Now to descend to particulars, 
 in which our characters moved as gi'eat actors 
 on the world's stage, enacting the drama of the 
 day, full as it was of terrible and momentous 
 interest. The Cranmers and the Gardiners, 
 the Piidleys and the Bonners, played their parts 
 passing well ; but they were, as it were, only 
 
 * Groves, vol. ix. p. 46.
 
 294 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 the representatives of multitudes inspired by 
 similarly holy or similsuiy fiery zeal. They 
 were the reservoirs of learning among the 
 Lebanons of knowledge, and from them sprang 
 innumerable refreshing rills, at first small and 
 minute, yet gathering strength each onward 
 glide as they descended to the plain. But 
 among the multitude of those who, either by 
 open support, tacit consent, silent antagonism, 
 or even avowed and determined hostihty, aided 
 the above second series of apostles in the great 
 cause of the Eeformation, shone conspicuously 
 Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, Thomas Cromwell, 
 and even Cardinal Wolsey. The latter's devotion 
 to the Church of Rome cannot be questioned, 
 for about this period his ambition even soared 
 to the Papacy ; but his determined persecution 
 of the religious houses throughout England, 
 the mighty inroads h>e originated on their 
 power and authority, his suppression already, 
 of many of the smaller ones, and his appoint- 
 ment of visiting inquisitors to several of the 
 larger ones, had one and all a tendency, how-
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 295 
 
 ever unintentioned, to promote the objeot of 
 the Reformers, to foster theh- strength, and to 
 spread abroad the new doctrinals they taught. 
 Of Thomas Cromwell's devotion to the cause of 
 Protestantism there can be no doubt ; all history 
 evidences it. Of Anne Boleyn's part in the 
 early stages of the Reformation, we have too 
 certain evidence to doubt for a moment its 
 leaning. Burnet, in his " History of the Re- 
 formation," says " xlnne Boleyn had, in the 
 Duchess of Alencon's court, received such im- 
 pressions as made them (the members of one 
 of the English universities) fear that her great- 
 ness and Cranmer's preferment would encourage 
 heresy, to which the universities were furiously 
 averse." To this may be added the pointed 
 but somewhat indecorous line of the poet Gray, 
 
 " And Gospel light first beamed from BuUen's eyes." 
 
 This new Esther, ere she was raised to the 
 throne of her capricious, but for a time, violently 
 impassioned Ahasuerus, possessed a sway over 
 him little short of magic. This power and in- 
 fluence she used for the purpose of inciting the
 
 296 
 
 > 
 king to adopt many of those reforming tenets 
 
 which, at that early age of their gi'owth, struck 
 dismay into the hearts of the followers of the 
 Papacy, while they uplifted those of the disciples 
 of Luther. 
 
 The political enmity between Anne Boleyn 
 and Cardinal Wolsey was, at this period, in- 
 tense and bitter in the extreme. They each 
 dreaded the ascendancy and power of the other 
 over their kingly but capricious master, and 
 they each, therefore, left no stone unturned 
 which might result in undermining the founda- 
 tion upon which the other had reared the frail 
 fabric of regal favour. Hitherto the one had 
 played most mercilessly against the plans and 
 intimacy of the other, and each in turn had had 
 the bitter privilege of claiming defeat and vic- 
 tory. But their enmity at last, with the flow of 
 other portentous events, appeared to be ap- 
 proaching a crisis. Strange rumours were afloat, 
 and, like the undamming of waters, spread no 
 man knew how or whither. Like unto the sultry 
 atmosphere preceding the wildest convulsion of 
 nature, men foredeemed they knew not what of
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 297 
 
 mighty change and portent in the fiery atmo- 
 sphere of opinion and in the troubled tide of 
 events. Anne Bole}!!, after a temporary dis- 
 pleasure and banishment to her father's domi- 
 cile of Hevor Castle, had, in obedience to the 
 royal supplication or mandate — synonymous 
 terms in the vocabulary of Henry VIII — an'ived 
 in town, and during the day, whereof we have 
 written in our last chapters, had been most 
 affectionately received by her royal lover at his 
 palace of Bridewell." 
 
 " The morrow, if I have but courage and 
 faith, shall witness my triumph and Wolsey's 
 fall," were Anne Boleyn's triumphant words of 
 self-gratulation when left alone that night in 
 the solitude of the luxuiious chamber assigned 
 to her. 
 
 " To-morrow; ay, to-morrow, is a day to be 
 much feared and yet much observed. A two- 
 edged sword is that I handle. The blow I 
 pm'pose to deal for the utter destmction of mine 
 
 * Vide Appendix, Note 6. 
 
 3
 
 298 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 enemies, may peradventure recoil on myself. 
 I sadly misgive the result, yet natheless am I 
 of a surety resolved," was Wolsey's comment 
 on the grave issues of that day and on the pre- 
 monitory heavings of the morrow. 
 
 Well might he, the arrogant, proud, ambi- 
 tious prelate, dread the consequence of that 
 judgment which he and his co-legate Campeius 
 had resolved to deliver in Blackfriars on the 
 morrow. Oft and wearying had been the 
 sittings of the so-called Court of Divorce, now 
 at Westminster, then at York House, and anon 
 at Blackfriars ; but with no good results or satis- 
 factory conclusion. In fact, Campeggio, by the 
 Pope's directions, had hitherto made the best use 
 of his ingenuity in doing nothing and allowing 
 nothing to be done. But to-morrow must en- 
 force a decision, for the King and Wolsey's own 
 tottering position required it should be so. 
 Some time ere this the long struggle of divorce 
 had begun in deadly earnest, and had enlisted 
 the entire nation into opposing factions. For a 
 weary while had Wolsey's intriguing policies
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 299 
 
 contended with, by systematically eluding, the 
 strong current of events and opinions which had 
 been for some time setting in. He had made 
 the common mistake indulged in by those who 
 are the advocates of an old order of things at 
 the time when that order is doomed and dying. 
 His very subtlety and amazing duplicity finally 
 ensnared him into a position whence extrication 
 seemed impossible. His persistent obstructions 
 and delays cast in the way of Henry's determined 
 will and pleasure to banish Catharine and wed 
 Anne Boleyn had caused his star to decline from 
 its apogee of brightness with greater rapidity 
 than it had ever risen. Catharine had, in a 
 measure, added to the precarious tenure of his 
 position; for, already irritated by the discovery 
 of the intent to pronounce her marriage invalid, 
 she was in every light, as woman, princess, and 
 adherent of Rome, exasperated, when she came 
 to recognise her destined successor. The fatal 
 consequence of this knowledge to Wolsey was, 
 that she at once resolutely rejected the autho- 
 rity of the legatine court of adjudication and
 
 300 
 
 appealed to the Pope. The admission or dis- 
 allowance of this appeal was one of the formid- 
 able points which Wolsey had to decide on the 
 morrow, and well might he be disturbed and 
 sorely amazed at the dreaded crisis into which 
 his hitherto proud destiny had now so unto- 
 wardly floated. 
 
 Added to the threatening portents and signs, 
 which should have .warned Wolsey of the totter- 
 ing height upon which he then stood, was the 
 King's wondrous independence of action. Al- 
 ready had he astonished the whole of Christ- 
 endom by assuming to himself, as we have 
 stated, the haught title of " Defender of the 
 Faith ;" and, further, by receiving many of the 
 most learned of the Reformers and holding 
 animated disquisitions with them on rehgious 
 topics ; by keeping Dr. Thomas Cranmer about 
 his person at court, and listening most eagerly 
 and attentively to the suggestions thrown cut 
 by him relative to the power and wilhngness of 
 the universities of Europe to decide in his favour 
 on the vexed question of the divorce. This
 
 OR, THE Mu^'KS OF ULD. 301 
 
 suggestion had been shortly before adopted, and 
 it may be only fair to assume that the King's 
 favourable inclination towards the suggestion 
 and his action on it appear to indicate that he 
 was not altogether without some real misgiving 
 respecting the lawfulness of his union with 
 Queen Catharine. The opinion expressed by 
 the Cardinal Governor of Bologna upon this 
 question was as follows : — " He knew the gyze 
 of England as well as few men did, and if the 
 king should die without heirs male he was sure 
 it would cost 200,000 men's lives. Wherefore, 
 he thought, supposing his Grace should have no 
 more children by the queen, and that by taking 
 of another wife he might have heu'S male, the 
 bringing to pass that matter, and by that to 
 avoid the mischiefs afore written, he thought 
 would deserve heaven."* The universities in 
 ever}' instance decided in the king's favour; 
 and, to crown this favourable result, so also had 
 the Convocations of Canterbury and York ; the 
 latter fmther declaring that Pope Julius, in 
 / * State Papers. Vol. vii. p. 144.
 
 302 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 granting a license for a marriage between Henry 
 and Catherine, had exceeded his authority, and 
 that this marriage was therefore, ah initio^ bad 
 and void. Thus backed and supported, it was 
 not Hkely a king so obstinate and determined in 
 his purposes as Henry VIII would bear any 
 longer with Wolsey's crossings and opposition. 
 And yet the proud minister and churchman 
 trusted in his strength, and imagined that 
 Henry would never attempt to disgrace or 
 lower one in whose power and magnificence he 
 had ere then so much gloried. He thought, come 
 what might, and use as far as he chose his impe- 
 rious authority, even though it were against the 
 biassed will and determined resolve of his master, 
 the latter would not carry his disappointment or 
 wrath beyond the customary admonition. He 
 relied moreover, upon the king's idle nature, 
 his indolence and distaste to interfere more 
 than was absolutely necessary in the affairs of 
 the state. For Wolsey had long governed in 
 all the daily routine of public affairs, greatly 
 to the relief of his pleasure-loving sovereign,
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 303 
 
 and whereof Gait, when commenting upon the 
 Cardinal's wonderful ascendancy, says, " Hence- 
 forth Wolsey may be regai'ded as the dictator 
 of England ; for, although the King appeared 
 afterwards personally in every important trans- 
 action, the Cardinal had acquired such an as- 
 cendancy that the emanations of the royal will 
 were, in fact, only the reflected purposes of the 
 minister." In truths so astounding did the 
 complete ascendancy of Wolsey over the cap- 
 ricious monarch appear even to the thought- 
 ful and observant of that day that many 
 ascribed it to demoniacal influence. In fact, 
 this demi-god is thus referred to by Cambridge, 
 '^ Shall we not by every mode of entreaty implore 
 the aid of a deity (numinis opem) for the restora- 
 tion of om' laws ? Shall we not fly to this altar 
 of justice, to this asylum of right ?" La Bruyere, 
 in speaking of him, remai'ks there are some 
 men who rise like unusual stars in the heavens, 
 "these men neither have ancestors nor pos- 
 terity. They alone compose their whole race ;" 
 ^ while More describes him as " glorious very
 
 304 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 farre above all measure." To these particulars 
 we may add, that among the extraordinary 
 powers which had been forced upon Wolsey was 
 that of "plenary remission of sins." But the 
 long vacillation exhibited on the subject of the 
 divorce by the legatine court had wearied and 
 wholly exhausted the small store of patience by 
 nature engrafted in the wilful and resolved 
 Henry. The Cardinal, however, perceived it not; 
 on, still on in the shoaling water he sailed amid 
 his glory and his pride, heedless of the breakers, 
 the surfy murmurs, and the hard and splintering 
 rocks ahead. He did not for a moment credit, 
 after his long and active impunity, he would be 
 held ruinously or severely to account in the day 
 of wrath then on the eve of dawning. But the 
 time of reckoning had arrived ; tardily the hand 
 had crept around the dial-plate of Fate, while 
 wrong was heaped upon wrong and oppression 
 moaned heavily in its long travail, until at last 
 the whole circle was complete and the fatal 
 finger already pointed to the hour. It only 
 wanted the resistless liammer to fall to hear the
 
 305 
 
 knell reverberated throughout the length and 
 breadth of the land, when m a moment the 
 mighty fabric of churchmanly iniquity, arro- 
 gance, and ambition would be shivered into 
 ruinous atoms.
 
 306 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 JSJHE morn of the memorable day broke 
 sombre and gloomy, while the hearts of 
 those engaged as principals or accessories in the 
 drama of real life on that day to be enacted were 
 anxious and perturbed, like the ruffling of the 
 sea before the approaching fury of a storm. 
 And without, among the gossiping and inquisi- 
 torial citizens, a perplexed and visible curiosity 
 was exhibited, as if they entertained some pre- 
 knowledge of the grave result, and of the 
 portentous changes that would thereon ensue. 
 
 The large and noble chapter-house of the 
 monastery had been carefully fitted up by the 
 diligent brotherhood to represent — and very 
 fairly, too — a court of solemn justice and assize.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 307 
 
 The lower end was railed off for the dwellers in 
 the sanctuary, who, flocking in goodly numbers, 
 soon filled it to overflowing. The centre had 
 a long table, covered with crimson cloth, and 
 surrounded by benches for the use of the wit- 
 nesses, advocates, and friends of either party in 
 the royal cause. The upper portion was some- 
 what raised above the level of the other parts, 
 whereon were erected three thrones ; the one in 
 the centre, and facing the whole length of the 
 chamber, was plain and unadorned, having two 
 chairs, with a desk in front for the use of the 
 high commissioned judges of Rome, the lords- 
 legate Wolsey and Campeius, while the two 
 others, placed against opposite sides of the 
 building, and facing each other, were richly 
 hung with crimson velvet, and royally embla- 
 zoned for the use of the august parties to the 
 suit. The ensemble might be supposed to have 
 most aptly resembled an Augustan hall. 
 
 It was nigh noon, and around the centre table 
 were assembled a group, every member of which 
 tiad journeyed thitherward as deeply interested
 
 308 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 spectators, or as even more enthralled actors. 
 There was the venerable prior, m his robe of 
 office and ceremonial, surrounded by the sub- 
 prior, the seneschal with his wand of office, the 
 sacristan, the treasurer, almoner, cellarer, and 
 a numerous cohort of canons regular, and 
 brethren in general of the order of the preaching 
 friars. He was for the time embroiled in some 
 learned disquisition with Sir Thomas More, 
 from whose "Utopia" we may quote the fol- 
 lowing passages to show the strange leanings 
 the learned of that age enjoyed. He could not 
 think " that as long as there was any property, 
 and while money is the standard of all other 
 things, a nation can be governed either justly 
 or happily," and he expressed therein his con- 
 currence with Plato, and, moreover, did " not 
 wonder that he resolved not to make any laws 
 for such as would not submit to a community 
 of all things." 
 
 Then there also stood in that distinguished 
 group, Thomas Cromwell, between whom and 
 his sometime co-mate in statecraft, Sir Thomas
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 309 
 
 More, there ^vas, it may be said, this essential 
 difference ; Cromwell, in fancy, might be desig- 
 nated an ai'chitect, and, in that light, might be 
 supposed to have devoted his gi'avest attention 
 to the material structure of the state ; More was, 
 as it w^ere, a philosopher, and might in like 
 fashion, be supposed to have bestowed his 
 greatest care upon the spirit by which its 
 particles should coalesce and move. 
 
 In greater contrast to this notable trio stood 
 the dark-browed, honey-tonged Dan Theodulph, 
 saying little with his tongue, and looking didac- 
 tically calm, but watching all with the lynx's 
 glance, while keeping his ears well adry for 
 information. 
 
 Somewhat apait and engaged in seemingly 
 interesting discourse, stood Elizabeth Barton, 
 the Holy Maid of Kent, and the young warrior 
 monk, Richard Plantagenet, whose legendary 
 descent from royalty still breathed delusive 
 dreams and false hopes into his young lion- 
 heart. 
 *' Beside these were conon-egated those learned
 
 310 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 in the more primitive code of the laws of that 
 period. In the middle ages the practitioners 
 of the law were almost invariably monks who 
 seemed to possess all the learning of those me- 
 diaeval times. The priory of Spalding in Lin- 
 colnshire, was famous as a law school, and one 
 of its chief ornaments was Godfrey the cellarer, 
 whose legal knowledge obtained for him an 
 extensive practice. John De Spalding, the 
 lord prior of the same monastery, attained to 
 the dignity of a doctor of laws. He was sum- 
 moned to council by the King's writ in ISOO, 
 and became thereafter the principal itinerant 
 justice for the county of Essex. The Abbey 
 of Croyland was also distinguished for its 
 lawyers. In the reign of Henry III., the 
 Church attempted to check this custom, and 
 forbade the clergy practising in future ; but the 
 love of " litigious terms and fat fees " had sunk 
 too deeply in their breasts. Ecclesiastical 
 censures were despised or evaded, and it is 
 with good authority affirmed that the large 
 black silk patch, which we now detect on the
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 311 
 
 top of our Serjeants' wigs, originated in the 
 ingenious invention of the monks to conceal 
 the shaven crown or tonsure — the outward and 
 visible sign in those ages of the clerical 
 office. The gown and bond too, of our modern 
 barristers, would appear to be similar remnants 
 of those mediaeval practitioners ; whilst the 
 designation of "clerk" apphed to so many of 
 the inferior officers of courts of law and justice, 
 is a very plausible proof that such offices were 
 once filled, and their duties once practised, by 
 the clergy of those remote days — a clerk being 
 the term still used for a person in orders, and 
 for the purpose of describing a member of the 
 Church in all Enghsh deeds and formal in- 
 struments. 
 
 " For a purpose so beneficial — nay, so utterly 
 useful and advantaging to the weal of Christen- 
 dom — I could be wiUing to give thee all aidance 
 in the forwarding of your national reform," said 
 Prior Struddell thoughtfully, in reply to the 
 philosophical romance writer's dissertations on 
 h^s *' Utopia." '' But hark! what means that fan-
 
 312 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 farinade ? What this clashing of trumpets and 
 cymbals ?" 
 
 " They announce the advent of his Grace the 
 Cardinal," said Sir Thomas More. 
 
 " His coming hath ever a woful prelude to 
 us poor dwellers of the cloister," sighed the 
 prior. 
 
 " Prithee fear thee not, lord monk. Priests 
 should be patient men, I trow." 
 
 Their further converse was interrupted by the 
 bustle and excitement of Wolsey's, the Lord 
 Legate's — legate a latere — arrival, who in all his 
 visitations, whether far or near, or on State 
 or daily occasions, ever displayed the utmost 
 ceremony and pomp. His accustomed har- 
 bingers, two tall priests bearing as many mas- 
 sive pillars of silver, first crossed the threshold 
 of the conventual Hall of Judgment. Two 
 more bearing his archiepiscopal staff followed. 
 We must need mention, that ample as this 
 great prelate's revenues were, they did not more 
 than suffice for the enormous expenses of his 
 establishment, which was organised and kept
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 318 
 
 up on a more than princely scale, and compre- 
 hended in the aggregate no fewer than eight 
 hundred individuals. His personal attendants 
 were forty- six in number, while his chaplains and 
 other officials upon the ceremonial of mass alone 
 were not fewer than one hundred and fifty. 
 Among the officers of this stupendous house- 
 hold were persons of noble birth and celebrated 
 talents, sons of the highest peers and others — 
 many of whom afterwards rose to high and 
 responsible offices in the State. In his own 
 person he exhibited even more ostentatiously 
 the splendour and munificence of wealth ; for, 
 according to Roy, his very shoes were '' of gold 
 and precious stones, costing many a thousand 
 pounds." When he went abroad he always 
 appeared with more than royal splendour and 
 parade, being preceded for the most part by 
 all his ecclesiastical and chancery parapher- 
 nalia, and his chosen guard of twelve gigantic 
 yeomen, with gilded axes. 
 
 Wolsey had already fallen, as we have before 
 jntimated, from the brilliant apogee of his 
 
 p
 
 314 BLACKFRIAES; 
 
 onetime great power and popularity, though 
 he still remained equally feared; while on this 
 occasion the awe of his dignity pressed heavily 
 on the ecclesiastical mob of Blackfriars. The 
 public backed from the railed passage to let his 
 rich scarlet dress of silken brocade, surmounted 
 by a black velvet tippet of sable, have full sweep 
 as he haughtily passed onward amid the cries 
 of his ushers — " Room for my lord's Grace ! 
 make way for my lord Cardinal ! " 
 
 The moment this mitred god, his haught face 
 mantled with angry clouds, entered the central 
 space in the large hall, the lord prior, his 
 officials, and the phalanx of monks swayed in 
 their serried ranks, and sank on their knees 
 in homage before the Pope's representative in 
 the land of the Saxon. 
 
 Cromwell then advanced to his lord, and 
 whispered him something of moment ; for the 
 Cardinal started and said, " Ha ! is it so ?" and 
 he looked eagerly and with some curiosity at 
 young Richard Plantagenet and his strangely- 
 inspired companion. But, after a few moments
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 315 
 
 of thoughtful inspection, he faced round again, 
 and, beckoning the sub -prior, Dan Theodulph, 
 to approach, he exclauned — " Ha ! my lord 
 monk, is it well ^Yith you ? Have ye and your 
 brethren of the cowl, — who are, I well weet, 
 the very chameleons of change — brought your 
 proud stomachs to so humble a yearning as 
 ye would have us believe. Of a troth we shall, 
 ere long, essay this new submission to a far 
 stretch." 
 
 " Your good pleasure, my lord, be in all things 
 ours," replied Dan Theodulph, in the most lowly 
 accents. 
 
 " Ye speak well ; let me hear ye have acted 
 as becomingly. I look not for perfection in 
 all thy cloistral doings ; for well I trow there 
 are addled eggs in every nest," said Wolsey, 
 haughtily. " Take heed, I warn ye, that ye do 
 not evil as they of Westminster, — unworthy 
 monks, whose shaven heads lie to heaven, and 
 whose feai-ful bodements will plant the germs 
 of an eternal misery for all their misproud 
 brotherhood." 
 
 p 2
 
 316 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 " We who are superiors your Grace, must 
 indeed take heed, for we shall bear, through 
 the infinity of endless ages, the penalty for all 
 the miskept ordinances, all the scorned canons, 
 and all the abuses authorised by our ensample." 
 said the sub-prior, humbly. 
 
 " Fair and softly spoken, monk. Words 
 sound well, but deeds methinks look best. 
 I have heard that thou hast raised thy voice 
 against our proper and determined purging of 
 your cloistral dwellings. As well try to stem the 
 rush of events monk, than our determined 
 will," said Wolsey, with a stern darkening of 
 the brow. 
 
 "What would ye have, my lord? The same 
 as ye see in some parts of France, and indeed, 
 already in England ? Would ye witness on 
 every hand broken walls, inhabited by owls and 
 rats, shapeless remains, heaps of stones and 
 pools of water ? " the sub-prior retorted, with a 
 suddenly aroused spirit. " Would ye have 
 everywhere desolation, filth, and disorder ? — 
 no more studious retreats, no more vast galleries.
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 317 
 
 full of ricli collections, no more pictures, no 
 more stained windows pouring on earth the 
 colours of Heaven, no more swelling sounds of 
 organ, no more celestial chants breathing the 
 utterances of Paradise, no more book-stores, — 
 above all, my lord, would ye have no more of 
 illuminations and manuscripts than of alms and 
 prayers ? " 
 
 " Laus Deo ! the man hath a wondi'ous 
 tongue. What say you, Gardiner ? " exclaimed 
 Wolsey jeeringly. 
 
 "An it please you, my most best lord, 
 Master Dan Theodulph is renowned for his 
 defence of the monastic orders," said Gardiner, 
 his Grace's secretary of the canon law, who 
 himself was a rather bigoted CathoHc, and then 
 on the eve of his episcopal preferment. 
 
 " So have I heard. Look you, Dan Theo- 
 dulph, an that's thy name," said Wolsey, in 
 tones that altered suddenly from those of simple 
 haughtiness and disdain to the churning of some 
 deep-suppressed wrath. " Look you, I say ; dare 
 you not, in your preaching crusades, to say
 
 318 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 aught in disrespect or cavil against ourself or 
 our doings. It hath been, ere now, whispered 
 us that ye, a set of croaking sinners, have dared 
 to call our life in question because we exist not, 
 after the fashion of the mad monks of Mont- 
 serrat, on herbs and water, keep frequent 
 gloomy vigils, and forsooth, because we mumble 
 not our orisons until such times as the angels 
 above weary of our* continuous complaining. 
 We have our judgment, save the mark, and 
 have heretofore acted on it to his Holiness the 
 Pope's and all Christian men's approval. A 
 hint is at all times in season, so be ye therefore 
 warned, or bide the heavy doom already fore- 
 spoken. As to your protests against the acts 
 we have already instituted concerning certain 
 cloistral houses in divers parts of the country, 
 they are more in seeming ; and to them am I 
 well disposed to listen an ye can urge aught 
 in their furtherance worthy of mark or con- 
 sideration." 
 
 " The protests we have made to your Grace, 
 against the further dismemberment of the
 
 OK, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 319 
 
 monachal institution, were offered, not on our 
 poor account alone, but in the name of the 
 whole ai'my of cenobites. What need of 
 torches in the dayhght. We do not hide our 
 errors of omission or commission from the 
 light, nor should our good works be lost to 
 sight. Evil there may be amongst us, for what 
 of mortal creation hath not something of im- 
 purity within it. But by our ensample we 
 encourage not offence. We set by our piety, 
 our learning, our abstinence, our charity, and 
 our good works, an ennobling ensample. And 
 even if our decried but time-honoured institu- 
 tion doth this good only, still it is well done, 
 still do we exercise a great function on earth, 
 still are we eternal witnesses of eternal morals, 
 handing to one another the resplendent torch 
 which Prometheus lighted in heaven, scattering 
 too that salty spray from the vasty sea of truth, 
 which I am well-minded, your Grace, keeps the 
 atmosphere of earth from positive corruption, 
 from swathing it irredeemably in the pestilent 
 exhalation of human breath — a saving anodyne
 
 320 BLACKFRIAES ;. 
 
 which ever chaunts so blissfully, that Peace 
 and Death are one." 
 
 *' Well, supposing we grant you that up to a 
 period, and within a certain standard, thy order 
 hath earned this rhapsody. Know ye not 
 monk, that ye of the cowl should not only 
 separate yourselves from the world, and devote 
 life to divine worship, but ye should also abstain 
 from all that is lawful in the world," said Wolsey 
 ironically. " Remember the words of St. John 
 Chrysostom, ' Whoever admires with love the 
 merits of the saints, and exalts the glory of the 
 just, ought to imitate their uprightness and 
 sanctity.' How time ye that authority with 
 your own exercise and following ?" 
 
 " We endeavour my lord, in all ways as fit- 
 ting as mortals can, to imitate the ensamples 
 of the blessed saints, and walk in their ways. 
 We have always set lustrously before us those 
 august and resuscitated forms of the glorious 
 and unappreciated past. Even thus have we 
 strived from the first Abbot Anthony — who, 
 like Abraham, was the parent of a great
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 321 
 
 race, that should have no end," said Dan 
 Theodulph. 
 
 '' Then do I marvel, if ye have such splendid 
 ensamples, and such earnest zeal in imitation, 
 ye monks do not order your conduct after fitter 
 fashion,"' retorted Wolsey. 
 
 " Much hath been urged, I wot well my lord, 
 against the disorders, the abuses, and scandals 
 among us of the cloister. But who can give 
 proof of what they assert thus maliciously ? 
 Who shall judge us ? Shall the seculars, our 
 exemplars in evil? Shall they reproach us 
 with being tainted and stained ; they who taint 
 us with then- views ; they who administer poison 
 to us, and then impute it as an unpai'donable 
 crime when we succumb to it. Nay, let the 
 saints of old denounce us, but not they from 
 whom the corruption springs. If they judge us, 
 they condemn themselves as the authors of our 
 imitative shortcomings." 
 
 " Ha, monk ! you would turn the tables, 
 would you ? But, to carry thy view, there 
 should be more of reason flavouring it," said 
 Wolsey with a doubtful smile.
 
 322 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 " I would humbly submit to your Grace in 
 proof of what I urge, that of a surety great 
 crimes have seldom, if ever, been committed in 
 our cloistral havens, while it is equally certain 
 that secular life hath always been more vicious," 
 said the sub-prior." 
 
 " I see ye will not own to the social de- 
 creptitude of your conventual institution," said 
 Wolsey. '^ But ye monks, more especially they 
 of Westminster, have wearied me more than all 
 the toil of my other and deeper policies. I 
 much misdoubt me of the usefulness of your 
 crew monk, in comparison with its unceasing 
 accostableness and disobedience." 
 
 ''Your Grace permits yourself, in that opinion, 
 to be subject to the scandalous envy of our 
 detractors. Our usefulness is^ beyond doubt, 
 proven by the mighty hand of Time itself,' 
 exclaimed Dan Theodulph, with earnest zeal. 
 "Where is the country, where is the man, 
 whom we have injured or mis-served ? Where 
 are the monuments of our oppression, the me- 
 morials of our rapacity ? If we have done evil, 
 or fallen short in our duties, yet are the imper-
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 323 
 
 fections of the cloister, which meet with such 
 contempt and reproach from the outward world, 
 more innocent before God than the most illus- 
 trious virtues on which that world lavishes 
 honourable tribute. Do ye, who thus deciy us, 
 follow the furrows we have ploughed through 
 ages past, and behold, everywhere, the traces of 
 our usefulness and beneficence. Forget not 
 too, that we were at all events, the sacred cradles 
 of your infancy, and that we reared you in your 
 faith through innumerable vigils, fasts, tears, 
 sweats, and ardent prayers, and through years 
 of du-eful labom- and troubles. Ye should take 
 heed therefore, how^ ye tm^n on us now in your 
 manhood, defiled as it be by malice, false doc- 
 trines and want of faith. Enquire your Grace 
 of the poor, who ai'e at all times credible wit- 
 nesses, how it will fare with them when we are 
 swept from the earth. Will they any longer 
 find a refuge, a hospice, a very ready place in 
 time of trouble for all miseries and all weak- 
 nesses ; or at the end of a hard day's jom-ney 
 or toil, will the evening bell announce a bene-
 
 324 
 
 volent and assured reception, ere Cynthia lits 
 the earthly night ?" 
 
 ^'Why dan monk, thou art a sharp pesterer, 
 and art moreover, a perfect Hon of monachal 
 polemics. An it were possible, I would make 
 you one of the Council ; but I opine well, it is 
 not advisable to introduce monkhood into state- 
 craft. As to thy umqhuile protests and thy 
 present wordy arguments in their favour, I will 
 hear thee, at a fitting season, more fully," said 
 Wolsey, somewhat impatiently; while Cromwell 
 smiled grimly and withal somewhat trium- 
 phantly at the crabbed and dismayed monk, 
 eager as he was, on every chance, to aim a blow 
 at what he persistently termed " the doomed 
 monksties." 
 
 The latter, however, on detecting Cromwell's 
 look, flushed darkly, and, without well-weighing 
 his words, exclaimed, with some appearance of 
 warmth, as Wolsey partly turned to address 
 others in the assemblage, " Be warned ye who 
 would counsel or do us harm. Be wary of a 
 worse judgment than ye seek to mete out to
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 325 
 
 US. The desecrators of these temples of reh- 
 gion, who have not hesitated heretofore to 
 outrage the glory, heroism, and holy traditions 
 which are essential to all national life and inde- 
 pendence, in order to reach more effectually the 
 men and things of God, shall not dwell in peace 
 or rest upon the ill-gotten stores of their 
 sacrilegious intermeddling. What the atheistical 
 robbers of earlier times dared to do in Europe 
 under a rule of ungodly terror and despotism, 
 the newly arising order of persons and power 
 would, it meseems, re-attempt in these days in 
 England." 
 
 "Ha! would you threaten us, monk ? You 
 are not so soft-spoken as we might deem. Look 
 to it, ye and your brotherhood ; look to it, I say. 
 I cannot wrangle with thee now, but my secre- 
 taiy here, shall have further instructions con- 
 cerning ye," said Wolsey, highly incensed, and 
 striding haughtily away to the upper portion of 
 the hall to meet his co-legate Campeius, who had 
 but then entered.
 
 326 BLACKFEIAKS ; 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CatljcrM of %xdipn.—%^t -^.p^El k |tam^ 
 
 JgfHE bells of the monastic church were tolling 
 out a joyous clamour, while from the depths 
 of its long-drawn aisles and echoing arches, 
 strains of the sacred music within came dreamily 
 forth, floating over the strained heads and eager 
 bodies of the expectant and applauding multi- 
 tude assembled to watch the royal processions 
 pass. 
 
 The Queen was the first to arrive, and she 
 came on foot from the adjacent palace of Bride- 
 well, with a goodly array of attendants. First 
 clearing the way marched a body of men-at- 
 arms, in that peculiar and ungainly costume 
 still worn by the yeomen of the Guard. Imme- 
 diately following these, under a rich satin 
 canopy, borne by four pages, marched the
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 327 
 
 Queen, habited in a rich and brilhant costume 
 of crimson velvet, trimmed with ermine through- 
 out its vast extent of train. A diadem, richly 
 wrought in gold filagree, and inlaid with many- 
 rare and precious stones, was perched upon her 
 pale but stately brow, above the long massive 
 black hair which floated down behind un^ 
 trimmed, after the Spanish fashion of the age, 
 and which had formed ere then the theme of 
 much courtly adulation, and of many a poet's 
 verse. Though Time had scarce writ a wrinkle 
 on her brow, yet the once gi'eat but saturnine 
 beauty of Catherine of Aragon was at this time 
 on the decline ; for bodily and mental suffering 
 had outstripped Age in the ravages that had 
 been made. She had always been popular with 
 the people, and her misfortunes added to that 
 feeling of popularity other sentiments of a 
 deeper hue ; for, in their reception of her, the 
 dominant impression within the breasts of 
 «^ those who now haded her approach was that of 
 veneration. 
 
 Accompanying the Queen, on her left-hand,
 
 328 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 was a pale, sallow, and in no wise attractive- 
 looking girl, bearing already in the expression 
 of her features a presage of the gloom and 
 bigotry of her after life. The Princess Mary 
 was at this period about thirteen years of age, 
 and exhibited the premonitory symptoms of her 
 future Hfe of severe devotion, by crossing herself 
 several times when she beheld the lordly church 
 of the Black Friars. Among the numerous 
 bevy of ladies following the Queen, was a 
 young sweet and gentle -looking girl — the future 
 favourite consort of the tyrant Henry, and the 
 blessed mother of the still more blessed Edward 
 the Sixth — ^Jane Seymour, one of her Majesty's 
 maids of honour. Crowding after the fair 
 descendants of Eve, came a still more numerous 
 phalanx of cavaliers and courtiers in glitter- 
 ing habiliments, among whom were many 
 renowned, even then, for their learning, their 
 devotion, or their chivalry. Among them was 
 John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, who for his 
 adherence to the Queen's cause, and the Pope's 
 supremacy, combined with his opposition to
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 329 
 
 the suppression of the monasteries, thereafter 
 suffered martyrdom. Next to this prelate, and 
 indeed partly supported by him, walked the 
 venerable and distinguished Christian, Warham 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, who, hating Cardinal 
 Wolsey, on all occasions opposed his will and 
 policy. 
 
 Then came Sir John Bourchier, Lord Berners, 
 Knight of the Garter, and one time constable of 
 Windsor Castle, distinguished by his standard 
 translation of the admirable Froissart. Beside 
 him stalked Friar Forrest, the Queen's chap- 
 lain and confessor in ordinary, a Carmelite and 
 a priest, worthy in all respects of the high trust 
 placed in him. Next arm-in-arm came two 
 youthful and handsomely attired cavaliers, who 
 seemed intent on currying favour with all the 
 pretty women and fair damsels they met, Lord 
 Hussey and Sir Thomas Wyatt, both attired in 
 the most splendid fopperies of the age. Then 
 followed a cloud of time-servers and placemen, 
 of whom history records little, and my readers 
 will care to hear less.
 
 330 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 Arrived within the centre space of the Chap- 
 ter-house, the Queen was met by her devoted 
 minister and servant, Sir Thomas More, who 
 conducted her with humble deference to the 
 throne assigned for her use, and whereon was 
 embroidered in gold her device of the cleft 
 pomegranate, while from the summit thereof 
 depended a wreath of holy rosemary. Beneath 
 this was a low stool or tabouret for the use of 
 the Princess Mary. 
 
 As soon as her Majesty had reached her 
 throne, Wolsey advanced with the intention of 
 paying his respects. Catherine awaited his 
 approach in majestic calmness, but with a 
 piercing look, whose upbraiding at once dis- 
 concerted and surprised him. He, however, 
 knelt before her in all humbleness and devo- 
 tion, while the Queen's bitter feelings against 
 the man could not supersede her reverence for 
 his high priestly office, as she, in a gentle and 
 almost gracious tone, bade him arise. 
 
 " Though I am assured Cardinal, thou hast 
 sown the wind which promiseth a whirlwind
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 331 
 
 for US to reap," she added, with some Httle 
 asperity. 
 
 " Nay, say not so, gracious madam. I hope 
 for a good end to all things yet, albeit great 
 dexterity must needs be used. May it please 
 you to grant an audience to his Hohness's special 
 adjudicator, and our co-legate, Cardinal Cam- 
 peius," said Wolsey, demurely. 
 
 " Nay, it were an idle ceremony. It needeth 
 not, your Grace ; for I am here, not in obeyance 
 to your duplicate summons, but solely in fur- 
 therance of my lord the King's mandate, whom, 
 as faithful wife and loyal subject I have ever 
 devotedly served," said Catherine, with austere 
 composure. 
 
 " May I reasonably misdoubt your Highness's 
 judgment in thus refusing to receive one de- 
 spatched specially by our Holy Father to adjudge 
 between you and your royal husband ? " said 
 Wolsey, anxiously. 
 
 " I have, as you are aware, appealed for 
 justice to his Holiness, from whom alone I 
 expect and shall receive it. As a messenger of
 
 332 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 peace, I will receive the reverend man, but not 
 for a moment will I acknowledge him a judge 
 with thee in this matter, stirred, as it hath been, 
 by certain evil counsellors between my lord 
 and me/' replied Catherine, firmly. 
 
 " We have our commission from Rome, gra- 
 cious lady, and must needs do our duty. We 
 have no choice ; we are but tools to work out 
 the design of our supreme head," said Wolsey, 
 deferentially. 
 
 " Work and act as you please, my lord ; it 
 matters not to me. I neither acknowledge your 
 tribunal, nor will I accept your judgment, 
 when given," said Catherine, with passionate 
 vehemence. 
 
 "You have awaiting your pleasure, at yonder 
 bar, certain reverend fathers, men of singular 
 integrity and learning, yea, the elect of the land, 
 assembled to plead your cause.* Therefore, why 
 show yourself perverse in such a matter, thereby 
 the more incensing the King ? " urged Wolsey, 
 with considerable warmth. 
 
 * Shakespeare.
 
 OR, THE MOi^KS OF OLD. 333 
 
 " His Grace speaks well, madam. And to 
 his advisings do I add my intercession, that you 
 will conform to the decretals of the court com- 
 missioned directly by his Holiness, and peimitthis 
 royal session to proceed to a judgment, allowing 
 the arguments on either side to be heard unin- 
 teiTuptedly," joined in the legate Campeius, as 
 he approached and made a lowly obeisance. 
 
 '' God wot, though a queen, and the daughter 
 of kings, we are not, it would beseem, per- 
 mitted fall freedom in our own will or judgment, 
 but must be schooled and trained as an we 
 were in our teens. Our Lady keep us that we 
 lose not our bedazed senses!" exclaimed the 
 Queen, in trembling accents. 
 
 " Nay, despond not, royal madam, nor be 
 enwrathed with those who seek to do ye ser- 
 vice. Believe me, most redoubted lady, to be a 
 friend to thee and thine, and that though the 
 winds bear evil seeds, no one can say whence 
 they come or whither they go. Thou hast 
 appealed to Rome, and on that question if thou 
 wilt not recall it, I am, with my co-legate, called
 
 334 BLACKFRIAE ; 
 
 upon by the king to pronounce judgment, whicli 
 Heaven forefend may not be madam, adverse 
 to your prayer," said Wolsey, in a singularly 
 wavering tone. 
 
 " I heed not what you say, my Lord Cardinal, 
 for I do believe, induced by potent circum- 
 stances, thou art mine enemy," rephed the 
 Queen haughtily, and in tones of steely deter- 
 mination, while she drew up to its commanding 
 height her handsome figure. " I therefore do 
 challenge your right to sit as my judge in any 
 matter ; for it is you, my mind misgives me, who 
 have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me, 
 which may God's dew quench. All this cruel stir 
 is of thy procurement, my mind assures me. 
 And mark you, I do once more, and pubhcly before 
 this assembled multitude, protest against the sit- 
 ting of this court, or any decision it may pro- 
 nounce. I moreover refuse you for my judge, you 
 whom I hold to be my direst foe, and no friend to 
 justice or truth, the right whereof in ages to 
 come will sink into the world's heart. From 
 you therefore, your co-legate, this session, and
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD, 335 
 
 all judgment to issue therefrom, do I appeal to 
 the Lord of Light, and to his holy Mother om- 
 bhssful Lady, and after them to his Holiness 
 the Pope. Gainsay my appeal an ye dare. That 
 is the substance and the sum of my speech with 
 ye. Get ye gone now my lords, for I care not 
 to have further parlance with ye; and in good 
 faith here comes both your lord and mine, 
 whose heart, if not turned to stone by your ill 
 words, will hghten mine of this load. If you 
 have any plaint to make on my account Cardi- 
 nal, urge it to the King forthwith, for we shall 
 not be too far to seek for an answer, and, lo ye ! 
 yonder he comes."
 
 336 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 ®^e fving's gimbal.— S^fee ^mtn's gippeal. 
 
 WGREEABLY to Henry's usual taste, the 
 mode and manner of his approach was 
 heralded after a quaint fashion. For some 
 minutes the harsh and repellant sounds of the 
 Scottish pibroch, played by a numerous band of 
 musicians, had been heard. It may be thought 
 the King's attending such a court and on such 
 an occasion was not precisely a fitting time to 
 appear in disguise ; but this species of public 
 and diurnal masquerade was so much in vogue 
 then, and appeared to accord so well with the 
 manners of the age and Henry's peculiar taste, 
 that it was not considered anything out of the 
 way by the public or even taken as a mark of 
 disrespect by the ill-starred Queen. Closely 
 following on the noisy band, came a troop of
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 337 
 
 gaudily dressed attendants with good thick 
 staves in their hands, which they struck con- 
 tinuously together, keeping time with the music. 
 Behind them followed several courtiers and 
 noblemen elaborately attned, to represent one or 
 other of the planetary deities of heathen mytho- 
 logy. Then succeeded the King, his burly 
 overgrown person richly covered in cloth of 
 gold, to represent Phoebus Apollo, the radiant 
 autocrat of the skies ; while, surmounting his 
 broad and somewhat handsome face, was a 
 splendid ornament of burnished gold, set with 
 the most brilliant gems, after the device then best 
 accredited to represent the sun. A profusion 
 of rings glittered on his fat fingers, the insignia 
 of many orders of chivalry were conspicuous on 
 his ample breast, and round his broad waist a 
 deep belt of exquisite goldsmith's work was 
 clasped. Over all was loosely hung a long 
 mantle stiff with its own richness, lined and 
 trimmed with gilded sables, and which descended 
 in massy folds to within a couple of inches of 
 the jewelled spurs clasped to his heels. 
 
 Q
 
 338 BLACKFRIARS; 
 
 Surrounding this gorgeous personage in 
 many a rich and motley garb were most of 
 the notable personages of the day. First in 
 attendance was Henry's young Marcellus, the 
 Duke of Richmond, an illegitimate son, whose 
 beauty and noble promise were at once his 
 father's misery and pride. He was however, 
 named in the succession after Edward the Sixth, 
 and would have been, had he lived, King of 
 England. His mother was a daughter of Sir 
 John Blunt. He was born in 1519, was called 
 Henry Fitz Roy, and when six years of age, 
 created Duke of Richmond and Somerset. With 
 him was the Duke of Bucldngham, the then 
 father of the nobility. After them came the 
 Duke of Suffolk, a staunch supporter of Anne 
 Boleyn and the Wellington of his day, and the 
 Duke of Norfolk, a bigoted adherent of the old 
 opinions. Though differing in all the daily 
 essentials of political brotherhood, yet these 
 twin nobles were staunchly united in their un- 
 bounded envy and hatred of the great Cardinal. 
 Then, marshalled closely together, were the
 
 OE, THE MONKS OF OLD. 339 
 
 Eaiis of Oxford, Derby, Sussex, Worcester, and 
 Huntingdon ; the Lords Audeley, Montague, Mor- 
 ley, Wentworth, and Mor daunt, and Sir William 
 Fitzwilliam, the Nelson of the age. With them 
 was the celebrated Cranmer, the first Protestant 
 Primate of England, then high in the royal 
 favour. Next came the merciless and too cele- 
 brated Bishop Bonner, a disgrace to the long 
 line of Christian prelates adorning the past 
 of the English Church. 
 
 Among the other attendant courtiers, were 
 Sir William Kingston, the Constable of the 
 Tower ; Thomas Lord Yaux, a poet of some 
 note in that age ; John Leland, the king's 
 librarian, and renowned as an industrious 
 antiquary ; and John Heywood, the dramatist. 
 Then followed Sir Thomas Heneage, the 
 Lord Chamberlain ; Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir 
 Nicholas Vaux, Sii' WiUiam Sands, and Thomas 
 Cavendish, the founder of the present ducal 
 family of Devonshire, the most wily, crafty, 
 and crooked statesman, however, who had, up 
 
 Q 2
 
 340 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 to that epoch, figured in the field of poKtics ; 
 with others, a goodly company in all. 
 
 " Ha ! by St. Greorge, my lord prior, this 
 palace of thine is more splendid and vaster 
 than mine," exclaimed the king in reply to the 
 reverend salutation of Prior Struddell, who 
 moved forward into the first rank to receive his 
 Majesty. 
 
 " I ween not that it is, sire. But an it 
 should be so, thou wilt do well to remember 
 that this is the temple of a greater Lord than 
 thou, for it is dedicated to the service of the 
 King of Kings," replied the reverend prior in 
 respectful yet dignified tones. 
 
 " Well, well, I doubt not ye are right in say- 
 ing that," said the King, grufily. " But, 
 God's life ! never crook your knees to the cold 
 stones now, ye men of the cowl, for we come 
 not to play the king in this judicial court, but 
 only as a petitioner in a certain cause, in the 
 which we hope, and indeed expect, to have a 
 judgment."
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 341 
 
 The latter words were spoken with a slow, 
 imperious utterance, and were pointedly directed 
 to the crafty Cardinal, by the flaming look 
 wherewithal Henry regarded him. 
 
 " Heaven bless your Highness," said Wolsey, 
 as he advanced and bent his haughty head and 
 knee before the only personage whom his 
 inordinate ambition ever owned its lord or 
 master. 
 
 " Good my lord, I hope it will. You are 
 ever full of heavenly stuff; see that there be 
 not mutiny in your mind concerning certain 
 leanings of ours anent this divorce," retorted 
 the king gruffly, and with a show of impatience. 
 
 " Have I not ever sire, in spite of all my 
 holy offices, devoted my time and my service in 
 your cause as best it seemed the wisdom of thy 
 frail subject?" said Wolsey evasively. 
 
 " You have said well ; but pardie ! see thou 
 doest after a like manner," rejoined the King, 
 with a furtive glance. 
 
 " Ever may you, my redoubted lord, yoke 
 together, as I will give you occasion, my doing
 
 M2 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 well with my sa}dng well," added Wolsey, 
 adroitly. 
 
 '' 'Tis well said again; though Cardinal, 
 words are not of a surety deeds ; but thou art 
 welcome natheless, the rather so, as an the whis- 
 perings be true we hear, you do not pray so oft 
 as to render your supplications w^earisome with 
 Heaven," quothed Henry, his good humour in a 
 degree restored by the seeming tractability and 
 humbleness of Wolsey. 
 
 " They do me who say so, in this as in other 
 matters of even higher import, a grievous wrong, 
 sire. For I never on those occasions for which, 
 perchance, my mortal brethren require my 
 tendance, omit a single prayer in my prescribed 
 and willing devotion," returned the Cardinal, 
 with some warmth. And in this assertion we 
 must do him the small justice to assert that all 
 historians are agreed ; and that he was, even at 
 the worst, a strict observer of the ceremonial 
 worship for which his Church had been, from its 
 earliest days, renowned. 
 
 " But prithee, can any one tell where is
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 343 
 
 Mistress Anne, — or my lady marchioness, as I 
 should call her, — and why she tarrieth ? 
 Thunder and bombards ! it would seem my 
 commands and my wishes are alike despised," 
 exclaimed Henry, with a dark frown. 
 
 " I take shame to say she hath other lean- 
 ings your Highness, and heeds not always your 
 gracious favouring of her. Bethink thee my 
 liege, a love that is lightly won is as lightly 
 lost," said Wolsey, attempting to deal his absent 
 enemy a telling blow. 
 
 " Ha ! say you so ?" replied Henry, grinding 
 his teeth like a vexed lion ; "I ought, then, to 
 have placed faith in her own nayword, which, 
 by my troth, she gave me to my beard as reso- 
 lutely as an she had uttered a gospel truth." 
 
 " Why seek ye, lord King, so silken a 
 coquette when thy own true and lawful Queen 
 is in thy presence," said a voice in the famihar 
 tones of the Maid of Kent, who was standing 
 amid the train of her royal mistress. 
 
 The king started and stared like a caged lion 
 at the bold speaker.
 
 344 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 " By all the furies ! who art thou, most froward 
 minx, that ventureth to school thy king thus 
 publicly?" he exclaimed, cooling down, as his 
 admiring eye ran over the full figure and 
 symmetrical form of the Maid of Kent. 
 
 " I am even she who was christened Eliza- 
 beth Barton, but whom evil doers, to s-erve their 
 own more nefarious ends, have since designated 
 after another fashion." 
 
 " Ho ! by my fay," exclaimed the King with 
 an ominous smile, "we have heai'd some whis- 
 per of thee, woman, and of thy unruly tongue. 
 Look to it, that you do not persist in your un- 
 seasoned ravings, or it may so hap we will deprive 
 thee of thy tongueship, if we do not shorten thy 
 height by a head." 
 
 The King spoke this with a significance there 
 was no mistaking, but he did not comprehend 
 the determined spirit he had to deal with. 
 
 " Thou art here sire, as a gorgeous repre- 
 sentative of the sun, whose office it is to lighten 
 all things fairly and gravely, and moreover as 
 one bounden to follow faithfully in the wake of
 
 345 
 
 the Queen of night, to whom I venture to liken 
 in your presence our gracious lady — your loving 
 spouse. So look not around you for a comet, 
 however brilliant, whose glare the heavens 
 declare shall not outshine your sunship, or the 
 light of this your gentler sharer in the skies," said 
 Elizabeth Barton, in her wonderfully musical 
 intonation. 
 
 " Damsel ! methinks you do something ex- 
 ceed the bashful modesty of yom' rank to speak 
 thus in such a presence," interposed Catherine 
 with grave dignity. " We do not believe we 
 have lost all influence with om' lord and king, 
 or that he will not vouchsafe us an audience 
 and a wilhng ear to our own petition." 
 
 " Lady mine ! thou sayest well," repHed the 
 King, for the first time approaching Catherine, 
 and with something of rough kindness in his 
 tones. "We will hear thee in pleasure, and 
 I wist not that we shall be over hard in our 
 answer." 
 
 " I thank thee good my lord," said the Queen ; 
 and then kneeling, ere the King could prevent 
 
 Q 3
 
 346 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 her, she poured forth that prayer, so full of 
 wondrous dignity and affection, immortalized by 
 Shakespeare. " All I desire of you sir, is right 
 and justice. I seek no more, save that which 
 is the sequence — your pity, for that I am a weak 
 woman, and a stranger, far, far from the land 
 of my birth. Alas ! my lord, in what have I 
 offended you ; in what has my conduct given 
 you displeasure ; how have I erred in my duty 
 of woman, wife, or queen, that you should now 
 seek to put me from you, and take your good 
 favour from off me ? Heaven witness I have 
 been to you ever a true and humble wife, at all 
 times conformable to your will and pleasure. 
 Oh ! tell me, my lord, when was the hour I 
 ever contradicted your will, or which of the 
 friends you loved, I did not for your sake love 
 also; or who belonging to me that incurred 
 your dislike have I not at once banished from 
 my sight? If in the course and process of the 
 twenty long years of our mutual yoldng, thou canst 
 now affirm and prove aught against my honour, 
 my bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, then
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 347 
 
 sire, in God's good name turn me away, let the 
 foulest contempt ever pursue me, and give me, 
 if ye will, to the fiercest kind of justice. But 
 till affirmation and proof be so given against 
 me, I humbly beseech you to proceed not fur- 
 ther in this suit or judgment, though in all else 
 in the name of God and our Blessed Lady, your 
 pleasure be fully done." 
 
 " I misdoubt me much Kate, that no better 
 wife than thou could man find beneath the sun," 
 rephed Henry with a sudden flow of warmth 
 and feehng. " In thy sweet gentleness, thy 
 saint-hke meekness, wife-like governance, and 
 rare qualities, thou truly art the queen of all 
 eai'thly queens, superior too, to the primest 
 creature paragoned throughout the world." 
 
 "Then, good my lord, grant the prayer of 
 my petition, ere now^ most humbly made you," 
 urged the queen, smiling sweetly through her 
 tears. 
 
 " In that, sweet lady mine, thou askest of 
 me, what by my fay ! it is not in my province 
 to grant," returned Henry. " This is a matter
 
 348 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 as much of statecraft as it is of conscience, 
 and the test of it is e'en in the safety of our 
 realm — nay, of our very crown. Our marriage 
 must now be proved lawful or not so, ere I can 
 rectify my conscience to wear this mortal state 
 with so goodly a queen Kate, as e'en thou 
 art." 
 
 " It soundeth passing well to hear thee prate 
 thus earnestly of conscience, the which I trow 
 King, thou are not much troubled withal !" 
 exclaimed the Maid of Kent. " Rest thou 
 content, my gracious Queen, the adulterous 
 paramour who hath plunged thee into this strait, 
 by her accursed blandishments of beauty and 
 discourse, shall never reign in thy stead beside 
 your fickle lord." 
 
 " Prithee loving maid, anger not my lord 
 thus," cried Catherine, in an ecstasy of fear for 
 the undaunted girl. " Forbear, I pray thee — 
 nay, command thee. Intercession will not avail 
 if I, who once had power to rule him, have 
 none left now. It is his will, and mayhap, 
 Heaven's too, that another should usurp my
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 349 
 
 place on the royal throne ; who hath, I ween, 
 akeady most painfully seized my place in my 
 husband's heart, and deprived me of all but 
 outward honours, and the inward sorrows of the 
 wife of England." 
 
 The Maid's advocacy of the Queen's cause 
 had been, from the onset, sincere and deter- 
 mined, albeit such a leaning, with her de- 
 criance of Anie Boleyn's rise in kingly favour, 
 told against the cause she had espoused, and 
 at the same time gave her enemies occasion to 
 impeach her of duplicity and false teachings. 
 
 " Gad's hfe ! am I to be thus flouted to my 
 beard ?" cried Henry in a violent outburst, not 
 to be stayed or controlled by the soothing words 
 of the good queen. "Ho, there ! why stare ye 
 all amort ? Forward there, ye men of buckram, 
 and arrest me yonder treasonable Jezabel ! By 
 my fay ! I will have her spout her venom hence- 
 forth to iron bars and stone walls." 
 
 " Hold Henry, falsely styling thyself King 
 of England ! Hold, I say, and let no man 
 dare approach !" exclaimed Pdchard Plantagenet,
 
 350 
 
 impetuously, as he stepped hastily and defiantly 
 forward. 
 
 " What Jack-a-mountain is this ! Who hath 
 reared this audacious cub to thus venturesomely 
 beard the will and wrath of Henry of England I" 
 yelled the exasperated King, glaring at the 
 personage thus saluted. 
 
 " I am Richard Plantagenet, a true descen- 
 dant of him who lost his life on Bosworth Field, 
 beneath the murderous axe of thy traitherous 
 sire. No king of mine art thou ; so stare not 
 with thy lion's eyes on us. I am, if all things 
 were as justice might ordain, thy sovereign 
 lord, most fierce, unruly tyrant," exclaimed the 
 Hospitaller, in the same vehement manner, 
 seemingly carried away by thoughts long burn- 
 ing, hke living coals, within his brain, and by 
 grievances long nursed against a day of impos- 
 sible reckoning. 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the dismay 
 and sensation this bold, defiant speech made 
 upon the numerous company. But, luckily for 
 both the youth and the maid. Will Somers, the
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 351 
 
 royal jester, whispered the King that the Mar- 
 chioness of Pembroke was entering the court, 
 and Henry, with a wondrous speedy clearing- 
 up of his clouded brow, turned at once, and 
 hastened with a haughty stride, on love's pinions 
 filing, to greet the far-famed beauty — his fature, 
 luckless queen.
 
 352 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 %mt §oIcp — Cfj^ Jeph^s |u%ment — Cfje Ring's 
 
 fELL might the arrival of Anne Boleyn 
 command attention to the momentary for- 
 getfulness of all other matters, all other thoughts. 
 This celebrated beauty, who changed seemingly, 
 the preordained history of the world by the 
 magic influence of her charms, was, at her then 
 age of twenty- five years, in the fullest lustre 
 of female loveliness, coquettish fascination, 
 dazzling wit, and rare accomplishments. In de- 
 scribing her pearliness, so amazingly endowed 
 as it was by that great modeller. Nature, it 
 would be impossible to pick out her main charm ; 
 for assuredly, that which might be so termed 
 was diffused over the glorious whole, like the 
 glow of the first sunset over the Land of
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 353 
 
 Promise. There was magic in her every ges- 
 ture, in every glance, in every smile ; and not 
 marvellous was it that the changeable and sus- 
 ceptible Henry should have been fired with his 
 rough love, or so infatuated with determined 
 passion, before the idol, her beauty and her 
 fascination offered. She was indeed a fit heroine 
 for the wildest romance ever woven by that 
 mighty legendary, Reality. 
 
 She was dressed, on the present occasion, 
 with the utmost magnificence ; and her attire, 
 being after the vivacity and grace of the French, 
 might have been thought as donned in open 
 hostility to the more sombre richness of the 
 Queen's toilette. But the fashion of the gar- 
 ments she wore owed much of their grace and 
 eye-splendour to the incomparable form they set 
 off to such amazing advantage. 
 
 The glorious but treacherous pre-eminence, 
 to which she was shortly to be elevated, seemed 
 to cast its illuminating rays upon her from afar; 
 for her face and form radiated with brilhant 
 loveliness and expectant triumph. But with all
 
 354 
 
 the glory awaiting her, a brighter crown than 
 any of earthly dominion was to be, in the ful- 
 ness of time, possessed by her ; for she was to 
 furnish the faith and spirit to redeem the suflfer- 
 ing and condemned Church of Christ from the 
 bondage and persecution of Haman, and thereby 
 render herself immortal in the annals of all 
 Christendom, as the Esther of the Reformation. 
 This brilliant goddess entered the precincts 
 of Blackfriars with a train more numerous and 
 splendid than either of the royal personages 
 preceding her. Six beautiful damsels, specially 
 chosen by the enamoured King, as her hand- 
 maidens, bore her ample train, while immedi- 
 ately succeeding them, came several more of 
 her sex, all ladies of the highest rank — a group 
 of female loveliness and female frippery. Imme- 
 diately following them was a rare train of 
 learned men and distinguished courtiers, among 
 whom we may notice one or two, as those most 
 active in the great events thereafter happening. 
 Foremost among them was Dr. Parker, the 
 lady's chaplain, and the successor of Cranmer, as
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 355 
 
 the second Protestant Aixlibishop of Canter- 
 bury and the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne Bole^n's 
 father, leaning on the arm of Sir Nicholas 
 Carew, a statesman. 
 
 Then came one whose history affords a richer 
 topic for the pen of tlie biogi'apher and romancer, 
 than any other personage living in an age 
 abounding with notable characters, and rife in 
 stirring episodes. This was Howard, Earl of 
 Surrey, of whom it may be said, that though 
 there are few traces of the man left to us, yet 
 something of more importance attaches to his 
 name and memory, for ' his works live after 
 him.' He was the greatest poet of his age, 
 and the first who introduced blank verse, and 
 reduced our poetry to metrical rules. His 
 poems are, for the most part, pubHshed collec- 
 tively with those of his contemporary Sir 
 Thomas ^Yyatt. Appropriately beside him ap- 
 proached the latter personage, whose noble 
 person, polished manners, sldll in feats of arms, 
 and commanding talents, we read, raised him 
 from a very early age, to a conspicuous elevation
 
 356 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 at court, and procured for him, in no stinted 
 measure, the favour and esteem of Henry. 
 
 Assorting in close company with the above- 
 famed courtiers, was Edward Vere, Earl of 
 Oxford, a close friend and boon companion of 
 Surrey; Lord Rochfort, the brother of the 
 new queen, the point for that shame and dis- 
 honour which priestly malice knew so well 
 how to heap on human head ; Sir Henry Norris, 
 Sir Edward Baynton, and Sir Francis Weston, all 
 young and wild as untrained colts ; the Earls of 
 Northumberland, Westmoreland, and Rutland; 
 Lords Maltravers, Mounteagle, Clinton, Cobham, 
 and Sandys ; Sir William Shelley, Sir Aleric 
 Mountjoy, Sir Thomas Percy, and Sir John 
 Bulwer. 
 
 Such were a few of the notable personages 
 surrounding Anne Boleyn as the Eang, with a 
 glowing glance, that brought the richest hues 
 of her blood into that lady's complexion, 
 approached. 
 
 " Ha ! gad's life ! our goddess ' Parfaicte 
 Blisse ' hath at last condescended to appear,
 
 OE, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 357 
 
 and GUI' sunship glows more fervently and 
 brightly than ever aforetime," exclaimed Heniy, 
 with passionate ardour. 
 
 " Nay sire, single me not out for so especial 
 a notice. I would not of my own will have 
 come hither ; for our pilgrimage, I fear me, is 
 not ended yet," answered Anne Boleyn in waver- 
 ing tones. 
 
 " Fear thee not, dear lady mine. I will see, ere 
 the court rises this day, that my wish is law ; or, 
 Corpus Domini ! I will know who is king in 
 these realms," retorted Henry impetuously. 
 
 " My royal prince, you have still your school- 
 master, who dareth to chide your actions, and 
 control them withal," she rephed, with a quick 
 glance to where stood Wolsey, strangely dis- 
 turbed, and marvelling how matters would end 
 in the crisis that day forced upon him. 
 
 " You love not the Cardinal, sweet Bhsse, 
 we are not now, by my halidome ! to learn" said 
 Henry, with a smile. 
 
 " He favours me as little, your Grace, and 
 would undo me, by some melancholy or traithe-
 
 358 
 
 rous spell, in your loving opinion an he could," 
 said Anne Boleyn, with an answering smile. 
 
 " Trouble not your head, sweet mistress 
 mine, about the vexings and crossings of the 
 Cardinal. Death of my life ! all things have an 
 end, and e'en I trow, hath my patience. Thou 
 art mine as thou wettest, and by St. George, 
 shalt be crowned my queen, as I have well 
 sworn. Whoso shall gainsay our loves, dearest 
 Anne, let them answer to me, as I will against 
 the world in arms !" said the impressionable 
 and passion-dazzled King. 
 
 " Bethink thee, my liege, this priest-cardinal 
 hath other devices to entice thy pleasure, and 
 would have me thy harlot and not thy queen," 
 urged Anne anxiously. 
 
 " Bide thy time, lady, and doubt not the issue. 
 The sun sets not this night ere I am church- 
 manly divorced, be it by the sinking Cardinal- 
 usurper, whose head is growing mouldy, or by 
 our rising chaplain and goodfellow Cranmer, 
 who hath hit the right nail on the head," re- 
 turned the King somewhat vehemently.
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 359 
 
 " Oh, my knight, my fearless champion! thou 
 wilt not hear thy wife betrothed ill-spoken of, 
 or infinitely vilified in the judgments which 
 may he pronounced by these legates of Eome ?" 
 exclaimed Anne Boleyn tremulously, while 
 placing her fair white hand aflfectionately on 
 Henry's broad arm. 
 
 " That will I not, my only hope and love. I 
 cannot retort upon a Churchman's gibe, with 
 my lance or sword. But mark you lady mine, 
 an he spares pains and diligence on this the last 
 sitting of our so-called Court of Divorce, in 
 effecting the course of our release from our 
 sometime -imputed spouse, and an he dares wag 
 his tongue against you in aught, let him look 
 to it. That wilt prove his darkest hour of ill, 
 for I will spoil him of all means of furtherance 
 for the future, and perchance more speedily 
 than he hath gradually grappled them into his 
 avaricious and all-greedy clutch. Art thou con- 
 tent, sweet love ?" 
 
 " Faith and troth, my dear liege, that am I. 
 But will it please you to proceed at once to an
 
 360 
 
 issue, as I perceive the day wears, and they who 
 await your pleasure yonder are wearying at the 
 delay," said Ann Boleyn. 
 
 " Let me lead you, dear Lady of Beauty, to 
 your hecoming post, where the light you cast 
 forth may dim the brightest daylight ; ay, from 
 whence the great sun, shunning comparison, 
 wilt hide himself beneath the cloudy curtains 
 of the sky !" exclaimed the ardent King, and 
 forthwith proceeded to conduct the brilliant 
 Marchioness to the throne erected for himself. 
 
 The meeting between this august pair had 
 been anxiously witnessed by nearly every one of 
 those assembled within the two upper divisions 
 of the Chapter House. Catharine of Aragon, 
 after noticing the first greeting with a bitter 
 gaze and mournful presage, exclaimed to the 
 Maid of Kent, who still continued to stand 
 beside her, " Poor gilded moth in the flame of 
 Henry's lusts, her triumph will not prove of 
 long endurance, and her end will yet be sadder 
 than the saddest night !" Wolsey too, looked 
 anxiously on, and though he conversed with his
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 361 
 
 co-legate, and those in attendance upon him 
 with an enforced indifference, and in other ways 
 affected a stoical composure, it was easy to see 
 some portent of coming evil sat like the shadow 
 of a Nemesis upon his brow, while it equally 
 weighed upon his heart. The lordly prior 
 and his phalanx of cloistral monks regarded 
 ominously, as well they might, the daily 
 rising in kingly favour and affection of a lady 
 well affirmed to be devoted to that heresy 
 which thereafter proved their utter uprooting. 
 Indeed, one and all regarded that very demon- 
 strative meeting with more or less anxiety, in 
 accordance with the bias of their own political 
 or theological leanings, and none of those who 
 stood so absorbingly attentive were ready of 
 speech or blithe at heart during that short but 
 wondrous interlude, save the jesters of the 
 kingly despot and of the cardinal-king — Will 
 Somers and Jo Patch — who, with the license 
 accorded to their race, blurted forth their telling 
 criticisms upon the personages and the most 
 prominent topics of the hour.
 
 362 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 "Now, my lords legate, will it please you to 
 proceed in the matter which hath brought us 
 this day together!" exclaimed the King to the 
 two cardinals, when he perceived they were 
 enthroned on their judgment-seat. 
 
 " Shall our commission from his Holiness be 
 publicly read ?" demanded Wolsey. 
 
 " Nay, what's the need?" replied the King, 
 impatiently. " Have we not heard it before ? 
 and ought, by St. George, ere this, be able to 
 rehearse it ourselves. Its authority cannot be 
 questioned." 
 
 The parties to the royal cause were then 
 called in court, after the usual ceremony, and 
 thereupon, Henry answered quickly, and in his 
 usual bluff, imperious way ; but the Queen, 
 rising from her throne, advanced a few paces, 
 and then stopping, addressed the King — 
 
 " I will, with your permission my lord, retire. 
 I came not hither to acknowledge the authority 
 of this court, but in obedience to yours ; the 
 which having proven by my presence, I pray 
 thee have me now excused, sithence further
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 363 
 
 tarriance here is foreign to the dignity I owe 
 myself and you." 
 
 " Nay Kate, go not hence yet awhile ; 'tis a 
 useless prolonging of a sore subject — a veiy 
 scarifying of the wound, not to hasten such an 
 issue as lies in this cause, which conscience 
 most tenderly hath formed," said the Eling, with 
 manifest uneasiness. 
 
 " Tarry here I will not, though in all else for 
 the space of twenty rolling annuals I have done 
 well and happily thy bidding. In this matter 
 I cannot. I have renounced all allegiance to 
 this faulty jurisdiction, and have appealed to 
 Rome. My cause is now in the hands of the 
 Pope, who is God's vicar, and I will acknow- 
 ledge no other judge. ^' To Rome and his 
 Holiness, therefore, must this matter go ; for 
 the Cardinal dare not refuse my appeal to his 
 supreme head. I could weep to see thee thus, 
 my lord and king, but that I fear my teai's 
 might turn to sparks of fire." 
 
 * State Papers, vol. i. p. 402.
 
 364 BLACKFRIAES ; 
 
 Wolsey and Campeius both interfered, be- 
 seeching the Queen to plead, to acknowledge 
 the Pope's rescript, and allow them to decide 
 upon the main question, or at least, upon 
 her appeal in her presence. But the more 
 they urged, the more she resisted, until at 
 last, wearied by their profuse and vehement 
 arguments, she exclaimed, in a tone of 
 weariness, — 
 
 " My lords, I am but a simple woman, much 
 too weak to argue with your subtlety. I tell you 
 again, and for the last time, I do refuse ye for 
 my judges, and here, in the face of all these 
 people, again appeal unto the Pope, before whom 
 I insist my whole cause be brought, and by 
 whom alone will I ever consent to be judged. I 
 would rather be a poor beggar's wife, and be 
 sure of heaven, than queen of all the world, and 
 stand in doubt thereof by my own consent. 
 I stick not so for vain glory, but because I know 
 myself the king's true wife. I desire, my lords, 
 to save my right ; and if I shall lose the favour 
 of the people in defending that right, yet I trust
 
 OK, THE MONKS OF OLD. 365 
 
 to go to heaven cum famd et infamd* Having 
 thus explained myself, and having appealed, as 
 I have done, to the Head of the Universal 
 Church, I will now take my leave." 
 
 Catherine then bowed lowly to the King, and 
 turning, was about to leave, when Campeius, 
 according to Shakespeare, exclaimed, " The 
 Queen is obstinate, stubborn to justice, apt to 
 accuse it, and disdainful to be tried by it. 'Tis 
 not well. She's going away." 
 
 " Cite her again, my lords," urged Henry, 
 while strange qualms beset his heart. 
 
 Again was her name publicly called by the 
 officials ; but she no further notice deigned, 
 while, with a lessened retinue, she proceeded 
 through the Chapter House, and forth of the 
 precincts. 
 
 So soon as she had retired, the influence of 
 her presence on the King appeared instantly 
 to vanish, and, in his usual impatience, he 
 vociferated, with a dread laugh, brief and 
 
 * State Papers, vol. i pp. 397 and 403. 
 
 R 2
 
 366 BLACKFEIAKS; 
 
 sudden as the flashy murmur of the summer 
 storm, — 
 
 '* Well, we must e'en do without her, my 
 lords. She is over unruly, as ye may well 
 perceive." 
 
 " The Queen's Majesty doth in all things as 
 best it pleaseth her. And it is not for subjects, 
 — ^whom these self- constituted judges are, — to 
 question her doings," exclaimed the dauntless 
 Maid of Kent. 
 
 '' Ha ! dost thou venture again to beard me 
 thus ? " cried Henry, in a sudden paroxysm of 
 rage, and starting up. " By my fay ! thou shalt 
 have thy reward, Jezebel. Seize her at once, 
 and convey her to the Tower ; her tongue shall 
 no longer talk treason thus openly." 
 
 And forthwith some of the yeomen of the 
 guard stepped forward and surrounded Eliza- 
 beth Barton, who, for notice, smiled in haught 
 disdain. 
 
 " Hold, there ! Stand back, ye would-be men 
 of might," cried the impetuous Knight of St. 
 John. " Know ye not we are in sanctuary here,
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 367 
 
 which ye dai'e not break under peril of dam- 
 nation and the thunders of the Church ? And, 
 furthermore, bethink ye the sanctuary men 
 will suffer their time-honoured privileges to be 
 molested ? " 
 
 None dared speak for several moments ; for 
 few sought to cross the tyrant in his stormiest 
 moods. 
 
 " Now, by my father's beard ! thou shalt not 
 flout me thus. Away with them both. Take 
 them hence to the Tower. Who dare gainsay 
 my will ? — ha ! " he shouted, glaring savagely 
 round. 
 
 " I dai'e, Henry of England — I dai'e ; for, on 
 behalf of the Maid and myself, I claim sanc- 
 tuary, " retorted Pdchai'd Plantagenet, with 
 almost equal warmth. 
 
 "Sanctuary, sanctuary!" were words omi- 
 nously murmured among the lai'ge crowd in the 
 lower part of the hall. 
 
 The Lord Prior came forwai'd as mediator, 
 and kneeling before the enwrathed King, 
 besought his restraint, while he, of his own
 
 368 BLACKFEIARS ; 
 
 cloistral authority, had the daring pair removed. 
 It seemed doubtful whether he would consent 
 to this course, for reason was dethroned at all 
 times in the councils and in the acts of this 
 king. Passion, to be sated only by blood, ruled 
 almost unquestioned ; and, like the royal wild 
 beast he has so oft been likened to, the more 
 he tasted, the greater became his thirst. But 
 Anne Boleyn arose, and interceded; and the 
 public needed no mightier proof of her present 
 infinite power than the perceptible influence she 
 quickly wrought upon the inflamed passions of 
 her betrothed majesty. Prior Struddell was there- 
 upon commissioned to remove the obnoxious 
 commentators. 
 
 " Ho ! by my fay ! lord prior, look better in 
 future to thy charge. Let us not have further 
 occasion to hear slander against ourselves 
 coming from thy precincts, or we shall mete out 
 to ye, one and all, scant justice, I trow," ex- 
 claimed Henry in deep-bayed tones. 
 
 " Justice from a tyrant ! This King knows it 
 not, men of England," cried the young Knight
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 369 
 
 of St. John, as he, with his quondam com- 
 panion, was conducted by a strong body of 
 monks down the hall. " An arch hypocrite, and 
 perfidious as hypocritical ; he holdeth as one of 
 his maxims, that dissimulation is necessary to a 
 ruler ; and, as another, that no ruler is such 
 without terror and cruelty ! He hath the 
 cowardice and ferocity of the hyaena. He will 
 promise fairly, but his deeds will falsify his 
 words. He is as liberal, too, as that fell spirit 
 who took our Lord unto the mountain top, and 
 offered him cities and empires, when he had not 
 an inch of land to give, not even the mud 
 adhering to his cloven hoof. He is disloyal, 
 knight and king, and usurps the throne he sits 
 on, that is mine by primal right, and for the 
 which I challenge him to mortal fight; and in 
 proof whereof there lies my gage. Let who 
 raise it that dares." 
 
 And ere he could be silenced or stayed, he 
 broke through his conductors, and hurled his 
 thick-hided glove at Henry, throwing it with 
 such precision, that it fell at his very feet.
 
 370 
 
 Ere the King could act upon the wild prompt- 
 ings of his uncurbed fury, Sir John Perrot 
 stepped forward, and, taking up the gauntlet, 
 thus significantly answered the challenge of the 
 youthful and impetuous knight, "What doth 
 thee with so rude a tongue, my fighting monk ? 
 See that thou hast the heart to bear thy words 
 out most valiant springald ; for as I have, as 
 thou wettest, an old score to settle, thou 
 shalt need thy best cunning to save thy life 
 from being spitted out of thy foul-mouthed 
 carcase. Please you, my liege, give me this 
 quarrel; permit me to be thy knight in this 
 instance. I will battle thy cause not only to 
 the death, but beyond it, if God and our Lady 
 pleases." 
 
 " Thou shalt, son of mine, and a right good 
 advocate wilt thou prove ; though, God's death, 
 I have a mind to have this young cat- a- mountain 
 publicly whipped through- the city, and then 
 hung up summarily for a warning to all such 
 free praters in future," cried Henry fiercely. 
 
 " Leave him to me, my liege. An our Lady
 
 371 
 
 will help me in the mortal fray, I will soon 
 prove on him which of us twain can best play 
 at rattle-pates and sword exercise. So look 
 thee, Sir Knight of St. John, I accept thy 
 challenge in the King's name, as half my own 
 for a cause thou art well apprised of. Thou 
 wilt, by the fiery tail of St. George's dragon ! 
 find, I trow, that in this matter thou hast 
 somewhat hazardly run thy head against the 
 wall ; for, St. George be my speed ! I mean to 
 spit thee first, and run away with thy mistress 
 thereafter," exclaimed Sfr John Perrot in a loud 
 jeering tone. 
 
 " Boast not thus, thou bear-bully ! I have 
 proved thy master of fence once already, and it 
 will go hard with me if I do not again, so I 
 cast back thy warning to thy own teeth, thou 
 bastard son of a bastard royalty. Man to man, 
 I would not shun Hercules himself, that was a 
 better knight than thou, and that too ere the 
 world was in its page-hood," cried the impetuous 
 youth, as he allowed himself at last to be led 
 away, in company with Elizabeth Bai'ton.
 
 372 
 
 " Look you, bluff John, that thou seest this 
 trial of thy prowess and yon traitor's chastise- 
 ment set well agear. We name the day but three 
 hence, as that most fitting for such a boxing 
 bout. Let our heralds so make proclamation, 
 and do ye see the lists prepared for a general 
 tournay and melee, in which we will ourselves 
 take part. We will, perchance, run a course 
 with some worthy knight in love and honour of 
 our ' Parfaicte BlisseJ " Then, turning towards 
 the fair queen-elect, he added in a lower tone, 
 " I am not ashamed of my choice before any, 
 dearest Anne ; so do not say me nay." 
 
 " Who would not be proud and blessed, to 
 obey so royal a prince and master in all matters 
 laivfully r replied Anne Boleyn with some signi- 
 ficance. Upon which Henry whispered her, 
 summoning the rich warm blood glowingly over 
 her face. 
 
 "But, God's life ! we will not further dally in 
 the unwinsome business that brought us hither. 
 Ho, my lords ! will it please you to proceed 
 with the question you have on hands. I am
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 373 
 
 here to listen to thy judgment on this present 
 summons," exclaimed the King, facing the two 
 cardinals. 
 
 " So please your Highness, the Queen having 
 retired without pleading, 'tis fit, though we are 
 loathe to do so, that we should again adjourn 
 this court till some day further on," said 
 Campeius ; for Wolsey was too much disturbed 
 at some foreshadowing of his coming doom, to 
 answer on the moment. 
 
 " Ha ! what is this, my lords ?" shouted Henry, 
 his half-cooled passion starting into new life. 
 
 " Simply, your Highness, that we cannot pro- 
 ceed to a judgment in the Queen's absence. 
 Some earnest motion must be made her, to 
 withdraw her appeal, inasmuch as in the face 
 of it, as was rightly urged by the royal lady 
 herself, we cannot take further action, until we 
 have apprized his Holiness of the appeal, and 
 receive his instructions anent it." 
 
 "What say you, my Lord Cardinal?" said 
 Henry, with a fierce yet eager glance at Wolsey. 
 
 " Only this, sire, that I have no power to go 
 
 s
 
 374 BLACKFEIAES ; 
 
 beyond what my brother here has weightily 
 announced ; albeit may Jesu preserve your most 
 noble and royal estate," replied Wolsey, some- 
 what aghastly. 
 
 " Ha ! Is it so ? Is it thus I am made your 
 sport, my lords? Then look you, I dissolve 
 this court at once, and for ever, I shall now 
 call upon my learned and well-beloved servant 
 Cranmer to pronounce that divorce which he 
 hath already so learnedly and so publicly 
 justified," shouted Henry vehemently, as he fell 
 back a step, and laid his arm on the attending 
 Cranmer. 
 
 " My liege, but this is madness !" said Wolsey, 
 rising hastily, and casting himself on his knees 
 before the King. " It hath pleased our Lord 
 God to indue your Nobleness with a great multi- 
 tude of manifold graces, as a king elect in favour 
 of high Heaven, and as appeareth presently 
 by your noble person, so formed and figured in ^ 
 shape and stature, with force and pulchritude that yf^4^ 
 well signifieth the present pleasure of our Lord ^ 
 God wrought in your noble Grace. But, Heaven
 
 OR, THE MOXKS OF OLD. 375 
 
 send me good speed ! thou canst not expect of 
 me, albeit in all else thy willing bedesman and 
 servant, to neglect an appeal to the sovereign 
 jurisdiction of his Holiness, who is the Lord's 
 vicegerent on earth." 
 
 " God's life ! — are there two kings of Eng- 
 land? or, by St. George, but one, and we not 
 he ?" exclaimed Henry, in a wild phrenzy. 
 
 " My liege ! it grieves me to behold your ripe 
 wisdom thus grossly perverted," said Wolsey 
 dizzily, and with a strong effort. " I do profess 
 that for your Highness's good have I ever 
 laboured, and done my duty towards the State as 
 a rock firmly stands against the opposing flood ; 
 so bethink thee I would now in all mete measure 
 do thy sovereign will, and ever glory in thy 
 transcendant greatness, which is hke moving 
 waters beneath the brilliant beams of the noon- 
 day sun. But oh ! my hege, seek not to enforce 
 this divorce by any heretic decision, which may 
 cause thee shame in the Christian world, and 
 bring thee to grievous sin. See — behold how 
 rank is heresy, when already surrounding thy
 
 376 BLACKFRIAES 
 
 sacred person are some of those held the most 
 devout followers of one accursedly called Luther. 
 Agree to her Majesty's appeal to Rome, nothmg 
 doubting but that his Holiness the Pope may 
 discern all things well, and decide between ye 
 after the leanings of your own translucent con- 
 science." 
 
 During this eai'nest protest of the tottering 
 minister, Henry's visage had remained as dark 
 and gloomy as before, resembling a thunder- 
 cloud, fraught with destruction, resting on his 
 expansive and imperious brow. 
 
 " I am sick of thy schooling Cardinal, so get 
 thee gone from my sight. I am king, I trow, and 
 mean to act as such ; so for the present betake 
 thyself with what speed thou mayest, out of our 
 reach, and into thy diocese of York, whither we 
 will forward thee our further commands." 
 
 " What monstrous crimes are lyingly laid to 
 my charge ? But that I am bound in charity 
 against it I could despise those who thus 
 malign me to your Highness. But of a verity I 
 more lament this change in my King than
 
 OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 377 
 
 tongue can tell," said Wolsey meekly and 
 dizzily. 
 
 " Make hence, my Lord Cardinal, make 
 hence, I say, or I shall dismiss thee after 
 anotlier fashion," retorted Henry fiercely. 
 
 ^' Were it not fitly done, to send my Lord 
 Cai'dinal trooping it in company with Campeius 
 to Kome, to deUver to his Holiness there his 
 own rede and yom' decision ?" said Suffolk, wish- 
 ing to deal the fallen favourite another blow. 
 
 " Thine ingi'atitude, Duke of Suffolk, will one 
 day bring thee ill — doubt it not," said Wolsey, 
 with bitterness. 
 
 " Hold, my lord; and know, thou and all men 
 present, we henceforth own no authority or 
 governance in this land save om' o\\ii. We 
 have before declared ourselves, under grace, to be 
 the Defender of the Faith : we now add thereto 
 our higher authority as the supreme head of the 
 English Church. No foreign potentate shall 
 evermore harass us with his crossings and 
 enjoinings ; for in merry England there shall be 
 no ruler henceforth in either Church or State
 
 378 BLACKFRIARS ; 
 
 but one, and that ourself. Come, Lady Anne, 
 let us on." 
 
 And forth they went, a marvellous assem- 
 blage of learning, wit, rank, and beauty ; many 
 rejoicing, a few repining, in the sudden fall of 
 the great minister, who for so many long years 
 had known too well how to control and govern 
 the unruly passions of the tyrant ' whose smile 
 was transport, and whose frown was fate,' w^hile 
 all were most wondrously apayed at the bold 
 stroke aimed by the king at the long estab- 
 lished authority of the Pope. 
 
 Thus was a mighty blow delivered at the great 
 superstition of past ages, — the rotten reed upon 
 a shore of everlasting corruption, a noonday 
 mist, which had obscured the cross of redemp- 
 tion, well-nigh from the fatal day of its 
 exaltation on Calvary. 
 
 Wolsey's obstinate bent was worse than fool- 
 hardy. It was an experiment carried on to the 
 very verge of fate. The fruit of his bold policy 
 he himself was now alone to reap. He stood 
 for awhile as one stunned. Thunder- scars
 
 OR, THE M0:N'KS OF OLD. 379 
 
 appeared on his haught but clammy brow. No 
 words can suffice his secret soul to paint. 
 It beseemed as if he had at last fulfilled his 
 days, while looking as if he were one self- 
 condemned for sins unknown. Was it mere 
 Indiscretion, or Pride, or Fatality that had 
 thus magnetised him to such ruinous action ? 
 Where were the arms stored ready at all times in 
 the arsenal of disciplined genius ? He himself 
 had for long believed every action of his life 
 to have been impelled by an over-ruling prin- 
 ciple, which he could neither foresee, avoid, nor 
 avert. But little did he di'eam he would thus 
 become like a tottering wall, like a loosened 
 stone upon a high cliff; albeit, ever since Anne 
 Boleyn's — the night-crow, as he termed her — 
 starry rise, he owned to Cromwell that she was 
 ' the enemy that never slept, but studied and 
 continually imagined, both sleeping and waking, 
 his utter destruction.' When deserted in his 
 legate's court, on that fatal day, by all save a 
 chosen and faithful few, his bitterness found 
 vent, after Pride, Ambition, and Power had
 
 380 BLACKFEIARS ; OR, THE MONKS OF OLD. 
 
 been thus violently checked, — " What is writ 
 is writ ; and my minutes are now, mayhap, like 
 the last drops in an overturned goblet." And 
 then, with a great sigh, as he beckoned Crom- 
 well to approach, and prepared to depail, with 
 feeble steps and looks depressed, he muttered, 
 in unusually fervent tones, — " Gonstantia ! 
 Martyrum laudahilis I Charitas inextinguihilis ! 
 Patientia invincihilis ! quce licet inter pressuras 
 persequentium visa sit despicahilis, invenietur in 
 laudem, et gloriam, et honorem in tempore trihu- 
 lationis" 
 
 END OF VOL I. 
 
 Richard Barbett, Printer, 13, Mark Lane, London.