z DE 'I .give ihift-Bmh DEPOSITED BY THE LINONIAN AND BROTHERS LIBRARY tit^uptntttet. . ff^ifiiovp of IStf0lan9» FItOH IHE FALL OF WOLSEY TO THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH. VOLUME ir. HISTORY OF ENGLAND THE i^ALL OF WOLSEY THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH. BT JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE, M.A. LAT^ FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE, OXFOBIh VOLUME II, NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, ARMSTRONG, AND CO. SUOOBSSORS TO CHAHLES SCRIBNER AND CO. 1872. }^ t f ¦¦U^i^i^n-M ¦iJ CONTENTS OF VOLUME IL CHAPTER VI, THE PBOTE8TANTS, PAOl The Lollards 16 Presentation to Religious Benefices in the Fourteenth Century 17 Statutes of Provisors 21 Rise of the Lollards 25 JohnWyclifife 26 Theory of Property ; 28 Insurrection of Wat Tyler 29 Wycliffe's Influence declines 30 Death of Wycliffe 31 Insurrection of Oldcastle 34 Close of the Lollard MoYement 35 New Birth of Protestantism . . . . , ,37 The Christian Brothers 38 Luther . , 39 Multiplication of Testaments 40 William Tyndal , , , , . , , . 41 The Antwerp Printing-Press 42 The Christian Brothers 43 Wolsey's Persecutions J . , 49 Story of Anthony Dalaber 57 Escape of Garret 69 Perplexity of the Authorities 70 The Ports are set for Garret's Capture , . . . 71 Garret goes to Bristol, and is taken 72 The Investigation at Oxford 73 VIU CONTENTS, rAsi Doctor London's Intercession ^* The Bishop of Lincoln '* Oxford is Purged ^" Temper of the Protestants '' The Fall of Wolsey brings no ReUef , , . . 78 Sir Thomas More as Chancellor ^9 Contrast between Wolsey and More • . , • 88 Martyrdom of Bilney ^^ Martyrdom of James Bainham . , . . 90 Feelings of the People ^^ Pavier the Town Clerk ^^ The Worship of Relics 94 Roods and Relics .,,,•.• "5 The Rood of Dovercourt 96 The Paladins 97 Early Life of Latimer 98 He goes to Cambridge 100 Latimer's Education 101 His Fame as a Preacher 102 He is appointed Chaplain to the King . , . ,103 His Defence of the Protestants 104 He is cited before the Bishops 105 Latimer before the Bishops '06 Thomas Cromwell 109 Will of Thomas Cromwell 116 CHAPTER VH. THE LAST EFFORTS OF DIPLOMACY. Mary of Hungary The King is cited to Rome Clement refuses further Delay , Isolation of England Henry urgent against the Interview He appeals to a Council , Terms of the Appeal , , , Legal Value of the Appeal Cranmer's Sentence known at Rome Measures ofthe Consistory 125127128129130132 134136 137138 CONTENTS, IX FAOB Henry again calls on Francis ,140 He will not surrender Ms Marris^e 141 He will not repeal his Legislation 142 He urges the Rupture of the Interview , . • , 143 Recal of the Embassy 144 England and Germany , 145 Birth of Elizabeth 149 Clement arrives at Marseilles 150 The Interview 151 Bonner at Marseilles 152 Bonner and the Pope 153 Tte Pope rejects the Appeal 157 3Proposal for a Court to sit at Cambray , . , , 158 Francis implores Henry to consent 159 Henry refuses to revoke the Laws against the Papacy . 160 State of England 162 The Princess Mary 165 Queen Catherine 168 The Nun of Kent 170 Stateof Feeling in England 178 Proposed Marris^e of the Princess Mary 181 The Nun of Kent 183 Disgrace of Mary , . , 1 84 The Countess of Salisbury 185 The Nevilles 187 General Superstition - 191 Froposab for a Protestant League used as a Menace to Francis 192 The Protestant League 194 The Court of Brussels . , 196 Meeting of Parliament • 197 Perils of the Reformation . , . • • . . , 198 Cromwell , . 199 Opening Measures , ,,,*., 200 The Cong^ d'Elire 201 Abolition of Exactions 204 dosing Protest • • 205 Apology of Sir Thomas More accepted by the King , , 206 Obstinate Defence of Fisher 208 rhe Bill proceeds 20J» X CONTENTS. FAOS Execution of the Nun 210 Her last Words . . 211 The Act of Succession 212 The first Oath of Allegiance 216 Clement gives final Sentence agEunst the King . , 218 Obscurity of the Pope's Conduct, , . , 222 Mission of the Duke of Guise 223 The French Fleet watch the Channel . , . 224 The Commission sits to receive the Oath , . ,225 More and Fisher 226 More before the Commission 227 He refuses to Swear 228 Debate in Council 229 The Government are peremptory 230 Concession not possible 231 Royal Proclamation 232 Circular to the Sheriffs 233 Death of Clement VH, ...;.., 236 CHAPTER vm, THE IRISH REBELLION, State of Ireland 237 The Norman Conquest , . . . . . 238 Absentees 239 The Norman Irish 241 Weakness of the English Rule . . , 248 Distribution of the Irish Clans , .... 249 The Irish Reaction . . 251 Condition ofthe People 253 English and Irish Estimates ... , 254 Ireland for the Irish . , , . . 255 Coyne and Livery 256 The Geraldines of Kildare 257 Deputation of Lord Surrey 261 Return of Kildare 265 Foreign Intrigues 266 Desmond intrigues with the Emperor 267 Geraldine Conspiracy ,..,,.. 268 CONTENTS. xi PAGS Kildare sent to the Tower 270 The Irish Rise 271 The Duke of Richmond Viceroy 272 Third Deputation to Kildare 273 Ireland in its Ideal State . . . . , 274 New Aspects of Irish Rebellion 275 Ireland and the Papacy 276 Kildare is sent to the Tower 277 Desmond and the Emperor 278 Corny O'Brien 279 TheHoly War of the Geraldines 280 General Rebellion 281 Siege of Dublin 282 Murder of Archbishop Allen 284 Fitzgerald writes to the Pope 285 Dublin saved by the Earl of Ormond , . . . 286 A Truce agreed to 287 Delay ofthe English Deputy 288 Ormond again saves Dublin 289 The Deputy sails fi-om Beaumaris 290 Mismanagement of Skeffington 291 Delay and Incapacity 292 Burning of Trim and Dunbo}rne 293 Skefilngton will not move 294 General Despondency 295 Disorganization of the English Army . . . , . 296 The Campaign opens 297 Siege of Maynooth 298 Storming ofthe Castle 299 The Pardon of Maynooth 300 The Rebellion collapses 301 Lord Leonard Grey 302 Fitzgerald surrenders 303 Dilemma of the Government 304 Execution of Fitzgerald SOB End of the Rebellion 30« xu CONSENTS. CHAPTER IX, THE CATHOLIC MARTTK8, rA3I State of England in 1534 , . . . , . 307 Temper of the Clergy . , .... '08 Order for Preaching *10 Secret Disaifection among the Clergy . . • 312 The Confessional 313 Treasonable Intrigues 317 Catholic Treasons 818 Persecuting Laws against the Catholics . . . , 319 The Act of Supremacy 322 The Oath of Allegiance 326 Election of Paul the Third 328 Anxiety of the Emperor , , 330 Proposals for a CathiJic Coalition 331 Counter-Overtures of Francis to Henry . . , , 332 Attitude of Henry 333 Distrust of France 335 England and the Papacy 336 The Penal Laws 837 The Battle ofthe Faiths 338 The Charterhouse Monks 339 The Anabaptist Martyrs ; .357 Fisher and More , , 859 Fisher named Cardinal 364 The Pope condescends to Falsehood . . . . 365 Fisher Tried and Sentenced 366 Execution of Fisher 367 Sir Thomas More . S68 Effect upon Europe . . . . . . , 877 Letter to Cassalis . , ... 382 Reply of the Pope 885 Bull of Deposition ... . 386 Intrigues of Francis in Germany .... 388 England and Germany , . , , . , 390 CONTENTS, XUI CHAPTER X. THE VISITATION OP THB MONASTERIES. PAGl Visitation of the Monasteries 396 The Abbey of St. Albans 402 Commission of 1535 407 The Visitors at Oxford 409 Progress of the Visitors 413 Visit to Langden Abbey 415 Fountains Abbey 417 The Monks at Fordham 419 The Monks of Pershore 421 Rules to be observed in all Abbeys , . . , , 423 The Black Book in Parliament 427 Discussion in Parliament 429 Conflicting Opinions , 431 Smaller Houses suppressed 433 The Protestant Bishops , . .... 435 State of London 437 The Vagrant Act 439 Remission of Firstfruits 440 Dissolution of Parliament 441 The Work accomplished by Parliament . . , .442 CHAPTER XI, TRIAL AND DEATH OF ANNE BOLEYN. Death of Queen Catherine . . Anne Boleyn Anne Boleyn committed to the Tower The Tower Cranmer's Letter to the King , Cranmer's Postscript , . , . Pi'cparations for the Trial Irue Bills found by the Grand Juries The Indictment , , , , The Trials The opposite Probabilities 443446454 457 459 461 468 469 470476 480 XIV CONTENTS. FACE Execution of the five Gentlemen *°^ The Divorce 48* The Execution ^^ The Succession ^^^ The King's Third Marriage 490 Opinions of Foreign Courts 491 Meeting of Parliament 492 Speech of the Lord Chancellor 493 Second Act of Succession 496 CHAPTER VL THE PROTESTANTS. Where changes are about to take place of greait and enduring moment, a kind of prologue, on a small scale, sometimes anticipates the true opening of the drama ; like the first drops which give notice of the coming storm, or as if the shadows of the reality were pro jected forwards into the future, and imitated in dumb show the movements of the real actors in the story. Such a rehearsal of the English Reformation was witnessed at the close of the fourteenth cen- preiuae to tury, confiised, imperfect, disproportioned, to Sat^in outward appearance barren of results ; yet te*n^^n. containing a representative of each one of *"^* the mixed forces by wliich that great change was ulti mately eflTected, and foreshadowing even something of the course which it was to run. There was a quarrel with the pope upon the extent of the papal privileges ; there were disputes between the laity and the clergy, — accompanied, as if involun tarily, by attacks on the sacramental system and the Cathohc faith, — while innovation in doctrine was ac companied also with the tendency which characterized the extreme development of the later Protestants — to wards political repubUcanism, the fifth monarchy, and community of goods. Some account of this movement must be given in this place, although it can be but a 16 The Lollmls. [Ch.vi, sketch only, " Lollardry " i has a history of its own ; The Louardfl but it forms no proper part of the history of notfetter"' the Reformation, It was a separate phe- mation. ^ nomenon, provoked by the same causes which produced their true firuit at a later period ; but it formed no portion of the stem on which those fi-uits ultimately grew. It was a prelude which was played out, and sank into silence, answering for the time no other end than to make the name of heretic odious in the ears of the English nation. In their recoil fi-om their first failure, the people stamped their hatred ©f heterodoxy into their language ; and in the word mis- erewnt,, misbeliever, as the synonym of the worst spe cies of reprobate, they left an indelible record of the popular estimate of the followers of John Wychfle. The Lollard story opens with the disputes between the croM'n and the see of Rome on the presentation to English benefices. Por the hundred and fifty years which succeeded the Conqiiest, the right of nominat ing tbe archbishops, the bishops, and the mitred ab bots, had been claimed and exercised by tlie crown. ohaogesta On the passing of the great charter, the the mode of^ iii i, presentatioo; church faad recovered its liberties, and the to bishop- . .^ c. €. ricks. privilege of free election had been concedfed by a special clause to the clergy. The practice which then became established was in accordance with the general spirit of the English constitution. On the vacancy of a see, the cathedral chapter applied to the crown for a cong^ d'^lire. The applicaticm was a form ; the consent was invariable. A bishop was then elected by a majority of suf&ages ; his name was submitted to the metropoUtan, and by him to the pope. If the pope 1 The origin of the word Lollards has been always a disputed question. I conceive it to be from Lolium. They were the " tares " in the com »f Catholicism. Ch, VI.] Presentation to Beligious Benefices. 17 signified his approval, the election was complete ; con secration followed ; and the bishop having been fiir nished with his bulls of investiture, was presented to the king, and fi;om him received " the temporalities " of his see. The mode in which the great abbots wero chosen was precisely similar;, the superiors Right of free of the orders to which the abbeys, belonged Sm™ Z were the channels of communication with the ^thVch^' pope, in the place of the archbishops; but J^ugjouf'^ the elections in themselves were free, and '"'""™- were conducted in the same manner. The smaller church benefices, the small monasteries or parish churches, were in the hands of private patrons,, lay or ecclesiastical ; but in the case of each institution a ref erence was admitted^ or was supposed to be admitted, to the court of Rome, There was thus in the pope's hand an authority of an indefinite kind, which it was presumed that his sa cred office would forbid him to abuse, but which, how ever, if he so unfortunately pleased, he might abuse at his discretion. He had absolute power over every nomination to an EngUsh benefice ; he might priyiiege of refiise his consent till such adequate reasons, * tiMsup^* material or spiritual, as he considered suffi- reu'^ousor- cient to induce him to acquiesce, had been fSng^hi' submitted to his consideration. In the case o'^"''''"^-- of nominations to the religious houses, the superiors of the various orders residing: abroad had equal facil ities for obstructiveness; and the consequence of so large a confidence in the purity of the higher orders of the Church became visible in an act of T , • 1 • P J ^ A.D. 1306-7. parliament which it was tound necessary to pass in 1306-7,1 1 35 Ed. I. ; Statutes of Carlisle, cap. 1-4. TOL n. 2 18 Presentation to Beligious Benefices ICb. VI. " Of late," says this act, " it has come to the knowl edge of the king, by the grievous complaint of the honourable persons, lords, and other noblemen of his Act to re- realm, that whereas monasteries, priories, and fent the su- ofijej. reliffious houses were founded to the pwiois resi- """"^^ '-^ S> i l j dent abroad },onour and elorv of God, and the advance- firom laying """"" S> J ' j 1 • En^™ ""^ ment of holy church, by the kmg and nis houses. progenitors, and by the said noblemen and their ancestors ; and a very great portion of lands and tenements have been given by them to the said mon asteries, priories, and religious houses, and the religious men serving God in them ; to the intent that clerks and laymen might be admitted in snch houses, and that sick and feeble folk might be maintained, hospital ity, almsgiving, and other charitable deeds might be done, and prayers be said for the souls of the founders and their heirs ; the abbots, priors, and governors of the said houses, and certain aliens their superiors, as the abbots and priors of the Cistertians, the Premon-. strants, the orders of Saint Augustine and of Saint Benedict, and many more of other religions and orders have at their own pleasure set divers heavy, unwonted heavy and importable tallages, payments, and imposi tions upon every of the said motiasteries and houses subject unto them, in England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, without the privity of the king and his nobility, contrary to the laws and customs of the said realm ; and thereby the number of religious persons being op pressed by such tallages, payments, and impositions, the service of God is diminished, alms are not given to the poor, the sick, and the feeble ; the healths of the Uving and the souls of the dead be miserably defrauded ; hospitality, alms-giving, and other godly deeds do cease ; and so that which in times past was charitably given H06-7.] in the Fourteenth Century. 19 to godly uses and to the service of God, is now con verted to an evil end, by permission whereof there groweth great scandal to the people." To provide against a continuance of these abuses, it was enacted that no " religious " persons should, under any pre tence or form, send out of the kingdom any kind of rent, tax, or taUage ; and that " priors aUens " should not presume to assess any payment, charge, or othei burden whatever upon houses within the realm,^ The language of this act was studiously guarded. The pope was not alluded to ; the specific methods by which the extortion was practised were not explained ; the tax upon presentations to benefices, either having not yet distinguished itself beyond other impositions, or the government trusting that a measure of this gen eral kind might answer the desired end. Lucrative encroachments, however, do not yield so easily to treat ment ; nearly fifty years after it became necessary to reenact the same statute ; and while recapitulating the provisions of it, the parliament found it desirable to point out more specifically the intention with which it was passed. The popes in the interval had absorbed in their turn from the heads of the religious orders, the privileges which by them had been extorted from the affiUated societies. Each EngUsh benefice had become the foun tain of a rivulet which flowed into the Roman ex chequer, or a property to be distributed as the private patronage of the Roman bishop : and the Bnglish par liament for the first time found itself in colUsion with the Father of Ciiristendom. " The pope," says the fourth of the twenty-fifth of Edward III,, " accroaching to himself the signoriea 1 35 Ed. I. cap. 1-4. 20 Presentation to BeKgious Benefices. [Ch- VI of the benefices within the realm of England, doth give statute of and grant the same to aliens which did never EMSnTtta dwell in England, and to cardinals which ?h?wl°to could not dwell here, and to others as weU bene&L'u aUeus as denizens, whereby manifold incon- Engiand. yeniences have eusucd," " Not regarding " the statute of Edward I., he had ^Iso continued to pre sent to bishopricks, abbeys, priories, and other valuable preferments : money in large quantities was carried out ofthe realm, from the proceeds of these offices, and it was necessary to insist emphatically that the papal nomi nations should cease. They were made in violation of the law, and were conducted with simony so flagrant that English benefices were sold in the papal courts to any person who would pay for them, whether an Eng Ushman or a stranger. It was therefore decreed that the elections to bishopricks should be free as in time past, that the rights of patrons should be preserved, and penalties of imprisonment, forfeiture, or outlawry, accorcUng to the complexion of the offence, should be attached to all impetration of benefices from Rome by purchase or otherwise .^ If statute law could have touched the evil, these en actments would have been sufficient for the purpose : but the influence of the popes in England was of that subtle kind which was not so readily defeated. The The statute law was stiU defied, or still evaded: and the £uls, and is . « i ,n , again mast- Struggle Continued tiU the close ofthe cen- ed in fresh , ^ , , forms.. tury, the legislature labouring patiently, but 1 25 Ed. in, Stat 4. A clause in the prrantble of this act bears a sig nificantly Erastian complexion: come seinte Eglise estoit founde en e^at dt prelade dam le rot/aulme Dengleterre par le dit Roi ei ses progenitmtrs, el eomUes, barons, et nobks de ce Royaulme ei Ityurs a/nceslres, pawn eiits el le pos- pie mfaarmer de la lei Dieu. If the Church of England was held to halre been founded not by the successors of the Apostles, but by the Icing and the nobles, the claim of Henry VTIL to the supremacy was precisely in the spiiit of the constitution. 1389-90.] Statutes -of Provisors. 21 meffectually, to confine with fresh enactments their in genious adversary.^ At length sjrmptoms appeared of an intention on the part of the popes to maintain their claims The pope. with spiritual censures, and the nation was *eS^of* obliged to resolve upon the course which, in *' "'»»"'"• the event of their resorting to that extremity, it would follow. The lay lords ^ and the House o£ Commons found no difficulty in arriving at a conclusion. They passed a fresh penal statute with prohibitions even more emphatically stringent, and decided Thepariia- that " if any man brought into this realm any ciares that , , to bnng any sentence, summons, or excommunication, con- such cen- trary to the effect of the statute, he should the realm incur pain of Ufe and members, with forfeit- ished with ure of goods ; and if any prelate made exe- forfeiture. cution of such sentence, his temporalities should be taken from him, and should abide in the king's hands till redress was made." ^ So bold a measure threatened nothing less than open rupture. The act, however, seems to have been passed in haste, without determined consideration ; and on second thoughts, it was held more prudent to attempt a 1 38 Ed. III. Stat. 2; 3 Eic. II. cap. 3; 12 Ric. II. cap. 15; 13 Ric. IL Itat. 2. The first of these acts contains a paragraph which shifts the blame from the popes themsely^^ to the officials of the Rom^n courts. The statuta is said to have been enacted en eide et confort di) pape qui moult sovent a ' estee teublez par tieles et semblables <;lamour8 et impetracions, et qui y meist yoljUfitieis «OTenable remedle, si sa -sej^tetee estoit aw ce? choses enfoumee. I had regarded this passage as a fiction of courtesy lilce that of the Long Parliament who levied troops in the name of "Charles I. The suspicious omission of the clause, however, in the translation of the statutes wliich was made iu the latn years .of Henry Till, justifies an interpretation more favourable to the intentions of the popes. 2 The abbots and bishops deoeatly protested. Their protest was read in parliament, and entered on the Rolls. Bol. Pari IIL [264] quoted by IiHigard, who has given a fiiU account of these transactions, * 13 Ric. II. Stat. 2. 22 Statutes of Provisors. [C"- ¦"• milder course. The strength of the opposition to the papacy lay with the Commons,^ When the session of A "great parUameut was over, a great councU was sum- Zs^B^sllf" moned to reconsider what should be done, a forman and an address was drawn up, and forwarded sr' to Rome, with a request that the then reign ing pope would devise some manner by which the diffi culty could be arranged,^ Boniface IX. repUed with the same want of judgment which was shown afterwards on an analogous occasioirby Clement VII. He disbe lieved the danger ; and daring the government to per severe, he granted a prebendal staU at WeUs to an ItaUan cardinal, to which a presentation had been made already by the king. Opposing suits were instantly instituted between the claimants in the courts of the The question two couutries. A decisiou was given in Eug- an'taSi'by'" land in favour of the nominee of the king, munSSn and the bishops agreeing to support the crown bishops. were excommunicated.* The court of Rome had resolved to try the issue by a struggle of force, and the government had no alternative but to surren der at discretion, or to persevere at all hazards, and resist the usurpation. The proceedings on this occasion seem to have been unusual, and significant of the importance of the crisis, ParUament either was sitting at the time when the excommunication was issued, or else it was immediately assembled ; and the House of 1 See 16 Ric. IL cap. 6. ' This it wiU be remembered was the course which was afterwards fol lowed by the parliament imder Heniy Vlll. before abolishing the payment offirst-firuits. * Lingard says, that " there were rumours that if the prelates executed the decree of the king's courts, they would be excommunicated," — VoL III. p. 172. The language of the aet of parliament, 16 Ric. II. cap. 5, ia explicit that the sentence was pronounced. 1392-3.] Statutes of Provisors. 23 Commons drew up, in the form pf a petition to the king, a declaration of the circumstances which had oc curred. After having stated generaUy the English law on the presentation to benefices, " Now of late," they added, " divers processes be made by his HoUness the Pope, and censures of excommunication upon certain bishops, because they have made execution of the judg ments [given inthe king's courts], to the open disheri son of the crown ; whereby, if remedy be not provided, the crown of England, which hath been so free at all times, that it has been in no earthly subjection, should be submitted to the pope ; and the laws and statutes of the realm by him be defeated and avoided at his wiU, in perpetual destruction of the sovereignty of the king our lord, his crown, his regaUty, and all his realm," The Commons, therefore, on their part, declared. The House , of Commons " That the thmgs so attempted were clearly declare that . they will against the king's crown and his regality, used stand with 1 , „ . 1 • (.11 1. theCrownto and approved oi in the time ot all his pro- uveanddie, genitors, and therefore they and all the liege commons of the realm would stand with their said lord the king, and his said crown, in the cases aforesaid, to Uve and die." ^ Whether they made allusion to the act of 1389 does not appear, — a measure passed under protest from one of the estates ofthe realm was possibly held unequal to meet the emergency, — at all events they would not rely upon it. For after this peremptory as- And desire sertion of their own opinion, , they desired the eMmtofS. king, " and required him in the way of jusj „ai anS t»m. tice," to examine severally the lords spiritual ^^^ and temporal how they thought, and how "**"*• they would stand.^ The examination was made, and the result was satisfactory. The lay lords replied with- , 1 16 Ric. 11. cap, 5, ^ Ibid. 24 Statutes of Provisors. [Ch- '^• out reservation that they would support the crown. The bishops (they were in a difficulty for which all The lay lords allowanco must be made) gave a cautious, Sy[and but also a manly answer. They would not lOTdslnea-'^ affirm, they said, that the p(^e had a right to SSie^esfect excommunicato them in such cases, and they Commons. wouM uot Say that he had not. It was clear, however, that legal or illegal, such excommunication was against the privileges of the EnglisnJ crown, and therefore that, on the whole, they would and oughtto be with the crown, loialment, like loyal subjecis, as they were bound by their allegiance,^ In this unusual and emphatic manner, the three es tates agreed that the pope should be resisted ; and an act passed " that aU persons suing at the court of Rome, and obtaining thence any bulls, instruments, sentences of excommunication which touched the king, or were against him, his regaUty, or his realm, and they which brought the same within the realm, or received the same, or made thereof notification, or any other execu tion whatever, within the realm or witiiout, they, their notaries, procurators, maintainers and abettors, fautors and counsellors, shovdd be put out of the king's pro tection, and Aeir lands and tenements, goods and chat tels, be forfeited," The resolute attitude of the country terminated the jj,, pop, struggle. Boniface prudently yielded, and for yields. ^Q moment, and indeed for ever under this especial form, the wave of papal encroachment was rolled back. The temper which had been roused in the contest might perhaps have carried the nation further. The liberties of the crown had been asserted success- fiiUy. The analogous liberties of the church inight 1 16 Eic, n, cap, 5, ' 1392-3.] Bise of the Lollards. 25 have foUowed ; and other channels, too, might have been cut off", through which the papal exchequer fed itself on EngUsh blood. But at this crisis the anti- Roman policy was arrested in its course by another movement, which turned the current of suspicion, and frightened back the nation to conservatism. While the crown and the parliament had been en gaged with the pope, the undulations of the Analogous !• 11 11 111 agitation dispute had penetrated down among trie body among the ^ -• '¦ . . ° ¦' laity against of the people, and an agitation had been com- the corrup- . n 1-1 • • tion of the menced of an analogous kind agamst the spir- ciergy. itual authorities at home. The parliament had lamented that the duties of the religious houses were left unful filled, in consequence of the extortions of their superi ors abroad. The people, who were equally convinced of the neglect of duty, adopted an interpretation of the phenomenon less favourable to the clergy, and attrib uted it to the temptations of worldliness, and the self- indulgence generated by enormous wealth. This form of discontent found its exponent in John WycUffe, the great forerunner of the Refor- j„^ mation, whose austere figure stands out above 'f^y™"- the crowd of notables in English history, with an out Une not unlike that of another forerunner of a greater change. The early life of Wycliffe is obscure, Lewis, on the authority of Leland,^ says that he was His eariy born near Richmond, in Yorkshire, Fuller, '^°'¦¦ though with some hesitation, prefers Dujham,^ He emerges into distinct notice in 1360, ten years subse quent to the passing of the first Statute of Provisors, 1 Lewis, Life of 'W^ycliffe. 3 If such sdeiUia media might be allowed to man, which is beneath cer tainty and above conjecture, such should I call our persuasion that he WM bom in Durham. — Fuller's Worthies, Vol. I. p. 479. 26 John Wycliffe. ,Ch,VI. having then acquired a great Oxford reputation as a lecturer in divinity, and haying earned for himself powerful friends and powerful enemies. He had made his name distinguished by Attacks upon the clergy for their indolence and profligacy : attacks both written and orally delivered, — those, written, we observe, be ing written in English, not in Latin,^ In 1365, Islip, Archbishop of Canterbury, appointed him Warden of Canterbury Hall ; the appointment, however, was made with some irregularity, and the following year, Arch bishop Islip dying, his successor, Langham, deprived Wycliffe, and the sentence was confirmed by the king. It seemed, nevertheless, that no personal reflection was intended by this decision, for Edward III, nominated the ex-warden one of his chaplains immediately after, and employed him on an important mission to Bruges^ where a couferepce on the benefice question was to be held with a papal commission. Other church preferment was subsequently given to WycUffe ; but Oxford remained the chief scene of his work. He continued to hold his professorship of di vinity ; and from this office the character of his history- took its complexion. At a time when books were rare and difficult to be procured, lecturers who had truth to communicate fresh drawn from the fountain, held an influence which in these days it is as difficult to imaj;- ine as, however, it is impossible to Overrate, Students from aU Europe flocked to the feet of a celebrated pro fessor, who became the leader of a party by the mere fact of his position. The burden of Wycliife's teaching was the exposure of the indolent fictions which passed under the name of religion in the established theory of the church. He » The Last Age ofthe Church was written in 1356. See Lewis, p, 8, **^-3 John Wycliffe. 27 was a man of most simple life ; austere in apjrearance, with bare feet and russet mantle,^ As a simpHoity oi soldier of Christ, he saw in his Great Mas- hawts!*" ter and his Apostles the patterns whom he was bound to imitate. By the contagion of example he gathered abou t him other men who thought as he did ; and graduaUy, under his captaincy, these " poor priests," as Thepoor they were called — vowed to poverty because »"<**»• Christ was poor — vowed to accept no benefice, lest they should misspend the property of the poor, ai A be cause, as apostles, they were bound to go where their Master called them,^ spread out over the country as an army of missionaries, to preach the faith which they found in the Bible — to preach, not of relics His doc- and of indulgences, but of repentance and '™°*" of the grace of God, They carried with ihetransia- them copies of the Bible which Wycliffe had Biwe. translated, leaving here and there, as they travelled, their costly treasures, as shining seed points of light ; and they refused to recognise the authority of the bish ops, or their right to silence them. If this had been all, and perhaps if Edward III, had been succeeded by a prince less miserably incapable than his grandson Richard, Wycliffe might have made good his ground ; the movement of the parliament against the pope might have united in a common stream with the spiritual move against the church at home, and the Reformation have been antedated by a century. He was summoned to answer for himself before tha Archbishop of Canterbury in 1377, He appeared in court Supported by the presence df John of He is pro. Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the eldest of ^-^^^ Edward's surviving sons, and the authori- *^™* 1 Leland, " Lewis, p. 287. 28 Theory of PropeHy. [0= ""• ties were unable to strike him behind so powerfiil a shield. But the " poor priests " had other doctrines besides those which they discovered in the Bible, relating to subjects with which, as apostles, they would have done better if they had shrunk from meddling. The in efficiency of the clergy was occasioned, as Wycliffe Theory that thought, by their wealth and by their luxury. the laity had xt ? ¦ ¦ i /• • a right to He desired to save them trom a temptation deprlTc the n -, i ii'«i ciorgy of too heavy for them to bear, and he msisted Mty, that by neglect of duty their wealth had been forfeited, and that it was the business of the laity to take it from its unworthy possessors. The invectives with which the argument was accompanied produced a widely-spread irritation. The reins of the country feU simultaneously into the weak hands of Richard II,, and the consequence was a rapid spread of disorder. In the year which followed Richard's accession, consis tory judges were assaulted in their courts, sanctuaries were violated, priests were attacked and ill-treated in church, churchyard, and cathedral, and even while en gaged in the mass ; ^ the contagion of the growing an archy seems to have touched even Wycliffe himself, and touched him in a point most deeply dangerous. His theory of property, and his study of the charac- Tendencies ter of Christ, had led him to the near con- to ana- n a baptism fines of Anabaptism. Expanding his views upon the estates of the church into an axiom, he taught Theory of that " charters of perpetual inheritance were the tenure , , ^ ^ »f property, impossible ; " that God could not give men civil possessions for ever ; " ^ " that property was 1 1 Ric. IL cap. 13, 2 Walsingham, 206-7, apud Lingard. It is to be observed, however, that Wyclifife himself limited his arguments strictly to the property of tb* elergy. See Milman's History of Latin Christianity, Vol. V. p. 508, M81,] Insurrection of Wat Tyler. 29 founded in grace, and derived from God ; " and " see ing that forfeiture was the punishment of treason, and nU sin was treason against God, the sinner must conse quently forfeit his right to what he held of God." These propositions were nakedly true, as we shall most of us allow ; but God has his own methods of enforcing extreme principles ; and human legislation may only meddle with them at its peril. The theory as an abstraction could be represented as applying equally to the laity as to the clergy, and the new teach ing received a practical comment in 1381, in the inva sion of London by Wat, the tyler of Dart- ^^^ lyier's ford, and 100,000 men, who were to level ™-'™<="<>"- aU ranks, put down the church, and establish universal Uberty.^ Two priests accompanied the insurgents, not Wycliffe's followers, but the licentious counterfeits of them, who trod inevitably in their footsteps, and were as inevitably countenanced by their doctrines. The insurrection was attended with the bloodshed, destruc tion, and ferocity natural to such outbreaks. The Archbishop of Canterbury and many gentlemen were murdered ; and a great part of London sacked and bumt. It would be absurd to attribute this disaster to Wycliffe, nor was there any desire to hold him respon sible for it ; but it is equally certain that the a mischiev- doctrines which he had taught were incom- ment on patible, at that particular time, with an effect- teaching. ive repiession of the spirit which had caused the ex plosion. It is equally certain that he had brought dis credit on his nobler efforts by ambiguous language on a subject of the utmost difficulty, and had taught the wiser and better portion of the people to confound het erodoxy of opinion with sedition, anarchy, and disorder. I Walsingham, p. 275, apud Lingard. 80 Wycliffe's Influenee declines. [Ch.VL So long as Wycliffe Uved, his own lofty character was a guarantee for the conduct of his immediate disr ciples; and although his favour had far declined, ^ party in the state remained attached to him, with suffi cient influence to prevent the adoption of extreme Measure for measures against the " poor priests," Inthe Bion'of the year following the insurrection, an act was MsLdlnthe passed for their repression in the House pf Lo^! Lords, and was sent down by the king to the Commons, They were spoken of as '* evil persons," going from place to place in defiance of the bishops,, preaching in the open air to great congregations at markets and fairs, " exciting the people," " engender>- ing discord between the estates of the realm," The ordinaries had no power tP silence them, and had there fore desired that commissions should be issued to the sheriffs of the various counties, to arrest all such per sons, and confine them, until they would " justify them- Bfljectedby sclvcs " in the pcclcsiastical courts,^ Wyc- monsat Uffe petitioned against the biU, and it was Wycliffe's . '^ ° petition. rejected; not so much perhaps out of ten derness for the reformer, as because the Lower House was excited by the controversy with the pope ; and being doubtfully disposed towards the clergy, was re luctant to subject the people to a more stringent spirit ual control. But Wycliffe himself meanwhile had received a clew" intimation of his own dechning position. His opposi tion to the church authorities, and his efforts at re- invigorating the faith of the country, had led him into doubtful statements on the nature of the eucharist ; he had entangled himself in dubious metaphysics on a sjibn ject on which no middle course is reaUy possible ; ^^ 1 6 Rip. n. cap. ? 1382.] Death of Wycliffe. 81 being summoned to answer for his language before a synod in London, he had thrown himself again for protection on the Duke of Lancaster, The wyciafe's % 1 ^ 11 I 1 • ¦ position, duke (^not unnaturally under the circum- however, stances) declined to encourage what he could He makes • 1 1111 TTT ^^ sobmis- neitlier approve nor understand ; ^ and Wye- aon, liffe, by his great patron's advice, submitted. He read a confession of faith before the bishops, which was held satisfactory ; he was forbidden, however, to And dies preach again in Ox-ford, and retired to his i384. living of Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, where two years later he died. With him departed all which was best and purest in the movement which he had commenced. The zeal of his followers was not extinguished, but the wisdom was extinguished which had directed it ; and perhaps the being treated as the enemies of order had itself a tendency to make them what they were believed to be. They were left unmolested for the next wycuffe'sfollowers twenty years, the feebleness of the govern- continueun ¦^ •' . ,-1111 molested till ment, the angry complexion which had been the revoiu- ; 1111- -in 11 tion of 1400 assumed by the dispute with Kome, and. the when they ,. . , "^ , . '^, , , . ' „ , fall under political anarchy in the closing decade of the the ban aa '^ 1 . , • ^ disturbers century, combining to give them temporary of order. snelter ; but they availed themselves of their opportu nity to travel further on the dangerous road on which they had entered ; and on the settlement of the coun try under Henry IV, they fell under the general ban which struck down all parties who had shared in the late disturbances. They had been spared in 1382, only for more sharp denunciation, and a more cruel fate ; and Boniface having healed, on his side, the wounds which had been 1 Wilkins, Condlta, m. 160-167, 82 The LoUards. [Ch,vi. opened, by well-timed concessions, then, was no reason left for leniency. The character of the LoUard teach ing was thus described (perhaps in somewhat exag gerated language) in the preamble of the act ^*^^' of 1401,1 " Divers false and perverse people," so runs the act kst deHerei- J)e Scretico combuvendo, "ofa certain new nndo. sect, damnably thinking of the faith of the sacramsnts of the church, and of the authority of the same, against the law of God and of the church, usurp ing the office of preaching, do perversely and mali ciously, in divers places within the realm, preach and teach divers new doctrines, and w'.cked erroneous opin- poiiticai ions, Contrary to the faith and determination character of - the teaching, of Holy Church, And of such sect and wicked doctrines they make unlawful conventicles, they hold and exercise schools, they make and write books, tliey do wickedly instruct and inform people, and excite and stir them to sedition and insurrection, and make great strife and division among the people, and other enormities horrible to be heard, daily do perpetrate and commit. The diocesans cannot by their jurisdiction spiritual, without aid of the King's Maj esty, sufficiently correct these said false and perverse people, nor refrain their malice, because they do go from diocess to diocess, and will not appear before the said diocesans ; but the jurisdiction spiritual, the keys of the church, and the censures of the same, do utterly contemn and despise ; and so their wicked preachings and doctrines they do from day to day continue and exercise, to the destruction of all order and rule, right ¦nd reason," Something of these violent accusations is perhaps 1 De Beretico conibmrendo. 2 Hen. IV. cap. 15, 1400-1.] The Lollards. 88 due to the horror with which false doctrine in matters of faith was looked upon in the Catholic church, the grace by which alone an honest life was made possible being held to be dependent upon orthodoxy. But the LoUards had become political revolutionists as well a? religious reformers ; the revolt against the spiritua) authority had encouraged and countenanced a revoll agair st the secular ; and we cannot be surprised, there fore, that these institutions should have sympathized with each other, and have united to repress a danger which was formidable to both. The bishops, by this act, received arbitrary rower to arrest and imprison on suspicion, without r-«rei«on- 1 1 " • n -I 1 • -11 1 ferred upoa check or restramt ot law, at their will and the bishop* pleasure. Prisoners who refiised to abjure their ex officio. errors, who persisted in heresy, or relapsed into it after abjuration, were sentenced to be burnt at the stake, — a dreadful punishment, on the wickedness of which the world has long been happily agreed. Yet we must remember that those who condemned teach- u^j gj^^g ers of heresy to the flames, considered that OTthodox heresy itself involved everlasting perdition ; ^"'" that they were but faintly imitating the severity which orthodoxy stiU ascribes to Almighty God Himself, The tide which was thus setting back in favour of the church did not yet, however, flow freely, and with out a check. The Commons consented to sacrifice the heretics, but they still cast wistfiil looks on i^e com- ' "^ , * mons petition the lands of the rehgious houses. On two Jie crown fot , wJH/\* seculariza- several occasions, in 1406, and again 1410, «onof ' ^ church prop- spoliation was debated in the Lower House, erty. and representations were made upon the subject to the king.i The country, too, continued to be agitated with 1 Stow, 330, 338, TOL. n. 3 84 Insurrection of Oldcastle. LC"- '^ war and treason ; and when Henry V, became king, in Accession 1412, the church was still uneasy, and the Df Henry v. LoUards were as dangerous as ever. Whether by prudent conduct they might have secured a repeal of the persecuting act is uncertain ; it is more likely, from their conduct, that they had made tlieir existence incompatible with the security of any tolerable govern ment, A rumour having gone abroad that the king in tended to enforce the laws against heresy, notices were found fixed against the doors of the London churches,, that if any such measure was attempted, a hundred thousand men would be in arms to oppose it, Thesje papers were traced to Sir John Oldcastle, otherwise' caUed Lord Cobham, a man whose true character is Jf sfcjohn" I'^ors difficult to distinguish, in the conflict Oldcastle. gf the cvidence which has come down to us about him, than that of almost any noticeable per son in history. He was perhaps no worse than a fanatic. He was certainly prepared, if we may trus,t the words of a royal proclamation (and Henry was per sonally intimate with Oldcastle, and otherwise was not likely to have exaggerated the charges against him), he was prepared to venture a rebeUion, with the pros pect of himself becoming the president of some possible Lollard commonwealth,^ The king, with swift deci siveness, annihilated the incipient treason, Oldcastle vv-as himself arrested. He escaped out of the Tower into Scotland ; and while Henry was absent in Prance he seems to have attempted to organize some kind of wedtnde ^^o*^^ iuvasion ; but he was soon ^fter again Mated. taken on the Welsh Border, tried and exe- 1 Sot. Pari. IV. 24, 108, apud Lingard; Rymer, IX. 89,119, 129, 170, 193; Mihuan, Vol. y. p. 520-635. > > -i 1414.] Close of the Lollard Movement. . 35 cuted. An act which was passed in 1414 described his proceedings as an " attempt to destroy the Fresh act king, and all other manner of estates of the heresy. realm as well spiritual as temporal, and also all manner of policy, and finally the laws of the land," The sedi tion was held to have originated in heresy; and for the bettor repression of such mischiefs in time to come, the lord chancellor, the judges, the justices of the peace, the sheriffs, mayors, baUiffs, and every other officer having government of people, were swom on entering their office to use their best power and diligence to de tect and prosecute all persons suspected of so heinous a crime, ^ Thus perished Wycliffe's labour, — not wholly, be cause his translation of the Bible stiU remained a rare treasure ; a seed of future life, which would spring again under happier circumstances. But the sect which he organized, the special doctrines which he set himself to teacli, after a brief blaze of success, Finaiter- sank into darkness ; and no trace remained ™c"LoZiSf of Lollardry except the black memory of con- ""o™""™'- tempt and hatred with which the heretics of the four teenth centuiy were remembered by the English peo ple, long after the actual Reformation had become the law of the fand,^ 1 2 Hen. V. stat. 1, cap. 7. '¦* Ihere is no better test of the popular opinion of a man than the char acter assigned to him on the stage ; and till the close of the sixteenth cen- turj- Sir John Oldcastle remained the profligate buffoon of Engjlish comedy. Whether in lile he bore the character so assigned to him, I am unable to say. The popularity of Henry V., and the splendour of his French wars served no doubt fo colour all who had opposed him with a blacker shade than they deserved: but it is almost certain that Shakspeare, though not ¦ntending Falstaff as a portrait of Oldcastle, thought of hira as he was designing the character; and it is altogether certain that by the London public FaUtaff was supposed to represent Oldcastle. We can hardly sup pose that such an expression as " my old lad of the castle." should b« 86 " Close of the Lollard Movement. [Ch, Vl So poor a close to a movement of so fair promise Causes of was due partly to the agitated temper of the M^*' times ; partly, perhaps, to a want of judgment in Wycliffe ; but chiefly and essentially because it wa^s an untimely birth, Wycliffe saw the evil ; he did not ^¦r.. » see the remedy ; and neither in his mind nor Which is not V ^ *" ^! '."% in the mind of the world about him had the gietbed, for wenn^™ problem ripened itself for solution, England '^' would have gained little by the premature overthrow of the church, when the house out of which the evil spirit was cast out could have been but swept and garnished for the occupation of the seven devils of anarchy. The fire of heresy continued to smoulder, exploding occasionally in insurrection,^ occasionally blazing up in nobler form, when some poor seeker for the truth, groping for a vision of God in the darkness of the years which followed, found his way into that high presence through the martyr's fire. But substantially, Thereaction. ° . , , , i i- the nation relapsed into obedience, — tiie church was reprieved for a century. Its fall was de layed till the spirit in which it was attacked was win nowed clean of all doubtful elements — until Protes- accidental ; and in the epilogue to the Second Part of uenry the Fourth, when promising to reintroduce Falstaff once more, Shakspeare says, " where for anything I know he shall die of the sweat, for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man." He had, therefore, certainly been supposed to Se the man, and Falstaff represented the English conception of the character of the Lollard hero. I should add, however, that Dean Milman, who has examined the records which remain to throw light on the character of this remarkable person with elaborate care and ability, concludes emphatically in his favour. 1 Two curious letters of Henry VI. upon the Lollards, written in 1431, »re piinted iu the ArchcBologia, Vol. XXIII. p. 339, &c. " As God know- Jth," he says of them, " never would they be subject to his laws nor to man's, but would be loose and free to rob, reve, and dispoil, slay and destroy all men of thrift and worship, as they proposed to have done in oui fathei's days ; and of lads and lurdains would make loids." 1625.] New Birth of Protestantism. 37 tantism had recommenced its enterprise in a desire, not for a fairer adjustment of the world's good tiungs, but in a desire for some deeper, truer, nobler, holier insight into the will of God, It recommenced not under the auspices of a Wycliffe, not with Newbirthot '^ / Protestant- the partial countenance of a government ism. which was crossing swords with the Father of Catholic Christendom, and menacing the severance of England from the unity of the faith, but under a strong dynasty of undoubted Catholic loyalty, with the entire adminis trative power, secular as weU as spiritual, in the hands of the episcopate. It sprung up spontaneously, un- guided, unexcited, by the vital necessity of its nature, among the masses of the nation. Leaping over a century, I pass to the year 1525, at which time, or about which time, a society Association 11 • • 1 p mi °f Christian was enrolled in London calling itself " The Brethren 1 5, 1 T enrolled in Association of Christian Brothers, '¦ It was London. composed of poor men, chiefly tradesmen, artisans, a few, a very few of the clergy ; but it was carefully organized, it was provided with moderate funds, which were regularly audited ; and its paid agents went up and down the country carrying Testaments and tracts with them, and enrolling in the order all persons who dared to risk their lives in such a cause. The gpirftofthe harvest had been long ripening. The records <=''™'^- of the bishops' courts "^ are filled from the beginning of the century with accounts of prosecutions for heresy — wilh prosecutions, that is, of men and women to whom 1 Piijeedings of an organized Society in London called the Christian Brethren, supported by voluntary contributions, for the dispersion of tract! igainst the doctrines ofthe Church: Rolls House MS. '-> Hale's Precedents. The London and Lincoln Registers, in Foxe, Voi IV. ; and the MS, Registers of Archbishops Morton and Warham, At I*ni- beth 88 Tht Christian Brothers. [Ch.VI. the masses, the pilgrimages, the indulgences, the par dons, the effete paraphernalia of the establishment, had become intolerable ; who had risen up in blind resist ance, and had declared, with passionate anger, that whatever was the truth, all this was falsehood. The bishops had not been idle ; they had plied their busy tasks with stake and pnspn, and victim after victim had bpen executed wifh more than necessary cruelty. But it was all in vain : punishment only multiplied offend ers, and " the reek " of the martyrs, as was said when Patrick Hamilton was burnt at St, Andrews, " infected all that it did blow upon," ^ There were no teachers, however, there were np Absence of books, UO uuity of convictiou, only a confiised guidance. rcfusal to bcUevc in Ues, Copies pf Wycliffe's Bible remained, which parties here and there, under Difficulty death penalties if detected, met to read;^ waSof° copies, also, of some of his tracts^ were ex- books, i^jjj. . iji^j. ^jjgy were unprinted transcripts, most rare and precious, which the watchfulness of the police made it impossible to multiply through the press, and which remained therefore necessarily in the pos session of but a few fortunate persons. The Protestants were thus isolated in single groups or families, without organization, without knowledge of each other, with nothing to give them coherency as a party ; and so they might have long continued, 1 Knox's History ofthe Reformation in Scotland. 2 Also we object to you that divera times, and specially in Robert Durdant's house, of Iver Court, near unto Staines, you erroneously and damnably read in a great book of heresy, all [one] night, certain chapters «f the Evangelists, iu English, containing in them divers erroneous and damnafcle opinions and conclusions of heresy, in the presence o' divert suspected (iprsons. — Articles objected against Richard Butler— London Register: Foxo, Vol. IV. p. 178. « Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 176. 1625.] Luther. 39 except for an impulse from some external circum stances. They were waiting for direction, and men in such a temper are seldom left to wait in vain. The state of England did but represent the state pf aU Northern Europe, Wherever the Teu- Q^nerai con tonic language was spoken, wherever the lentoiSl*" Teutonic nature was in the people, there was "*''<""¦ the same weariness of unreality, the same craving for a higher life, England rather lagged behind than was a leader in the race of discontent. In Germany, all classes shared the common feeling ; in England it was almost confined to the lowest. But, wherever it existed, if was a free, spontaneous growth in each separate breast, not propagated by agitation, but springing self-sown, the expression of the honest anger of honest men at a system which had passed the limits pf toleration, and which could be endured no longer. At such tiraes the minds of men are like a train of gun powder, the isolated grains of which have no relation tp each other, and no effect on each other, while they remain unignited ; but let a spark kindle but one of them, and they shoot into instant union in a common explcsion. Such a spark was kindled in Ger- The theses many, at Wittenberg, on the 31st of October, church-door 1517, In the middle of that day Luther's berg, denunciation of Indulgences was fixed against the gate of All Saints church, Wittenberg, and it became, Uke the brazen serpent in the wilderness, the sign to which the sick spirits thrpughout the western worlns be grounded upon bare words of Scripture, not well taken, ne under- •tanded which your Grace hath opened in sundry places of your royal 42 The Antwerp Printing Press. [Cn- VJ> translated the Gospels and Epistles while at Wittep- thetransia. berg, Thcuce he returned to Antwerp, and Bi°bie%nd° settling there under the privileges pf the city, Antwerp. he was joined by Joy, who shared his great work with him. Young Frith from Cambridge caine tp him also, and Barnes, and Lambert, and many otliers of whom no written record remains, to concert a commozi scheme of action. In Antwerp, under the care of these men, was es- t?,blished the printing-press, by which books were sup plied, to accomplish for the teaching of England what Luther and Melancthon were accomplishing for (Ger many, Tyndal's Testament was first printed, then translations of the best German books, reprints of WycUffe's tracts or priginal commentaries. Such volumes as the people most required were here mul tiplied as fast as the press could produce them ; and for the dissemination of these precious writings the brave London Protestants dared, at the hazard of their lives, to form themselves into an organized asso ciation. It is well to pause and look for a moment at this Ihe London Small band of heroes ; for heroes they were, Protestants. Jf ^^^^ ^^,^ deserved the name. Unlike the first reformers who had followed Wycliffe, they had no earthly object, emphatically none ; and equally unlike hook. All our forefathers, governors of the Church of England, hath with all diligence forbid and eschewed publication of English Bibles, as ap peareth in constitutions provincial pf the Church of England. Nowe, sire, as God hath endued ypur Grace with Christian courage to sett forth the standard against these Philistines and to vanquish them, so I doubt not bu* that he will assist your Grace to prosecute and perform the same — that is, to undertread them that they shall not now lift up their heads; which they endeavour by means of English Bibles. They know what hurt such book! nath done in your realm in times past." —Edward Lee to Henry VIII.: Elbe, thir " series. Vol. IL p. 71. 1625.] The Christian Brothers. 43 them, perhaps, because they had no earthly object, they were aU, as I have said, poor men — either stu dents, Uke Tyndal, or artisans and labourers who worked for their own bread, and in tough contact with reality had learnt better than the great and the edu cated the difference between truth and lies, Wycliffe had royal dukes and noblemen for his supporters — knights and divines among his disciples — a king and a House of Commons looking upon him, not without favour. The first Protestants of the sixteenth century had for their king the champion of Holy Church, who had broken a lance with Luther ; and spiritual rulers over them alike powerful and imbecile, whose highest. conception of Christian virtue was the destruction of those who disobeyed their mandates. The masses of the people were indifferent to a cause which promised them no material advantage ; and the Commons of Parliament, while contending with the abuses of the spiritual authorities, were laboriously anxious to wash their hands of heterodoxy, " In the crime of heresy, thanked be God," said the bishops in 1529, " there hath no notable person faUen in our time ; " no chief priest, chief ruler, or learned Pharisee — not one, " Truth it is that certain apostate fiiars and monks, lewd priests,, bankrupt merchants, vagabonds and lewd idle feUows of corrupt nature, have embraced the abom inable and -erroneous opinions lately sprung in Germany, and by them have been some seduced in simplicity and ignorance. Against these, if judgment have been exer cised according to the laws of the realm, we be without blame. If we have been too remiss or slack, we shall gladly do our duty from henceforth," ^ Such were the fiist Protestants in the eyes of their superiors. On 1 Answer ofthe Bishops: Ralls Home MS. See cap. 3. 44 The Christian Brothers. [Ch.vi one side was wealth, rank, dignity, the weight of author- Theoppos- ity» t^^ majority of numbers, the prestige of Ing powers, centuries ; here too were the phantom legions of superstition and cowardice ; and here were aU the worthier influences so preeminently English, which lead wise men to shrink from change, and to cling to things established, so long as one stone of them remains upon another. This was the army of conservatism. Opposed to it were a little band of enthusiasts, armed only with truth and fearlessness ; " weak things of the world," about to do battle in God's name ; and it was to he seen whether God or the world was the stronger. The Protes- They wcrc armed, I say, with the truth. It moury. was that alone which could have given them victory in so unequal a struggle. They had returned to the essential fountain of life ; they reasserted the principle which has lain at the root of all religions, whatever their name or outward form, which once burnt with divine lustre in that Catholicism which was now to pass away : the fundamental axiom of all real life, that the service which man owes to God is not the service of words or magic forms, or ceremonies or opin ions ; but the service of holiness, of purity, of obedi ence to the everlasting laws of duty. When we look through the writings of Latimer, the The early apostle of the English Reformation, when we SdnoSg read the depositions against the martyrs, and neT^heme t^^ Usts of their crimes against the established of doctrine, fg^;^]^^ .^^g gjj^j ^^ Opposite schemes of doctrme, no " plans of salvation ; " no positive system of theology which it was held a duty to believe ; these things were of later growth, when it became again necessary to Dnt pro- clothe the living spirit in a perishable body, i^*st°»' We find only an effort to express again the 1625,] The Christian Brothers. 45 old exhortation of the Wise Man — " Will ^lUe raper- , 1 1 , , 11 IPI stition. and you hear the beginning and the end of the insistedon 11 OT-i ^1 11 1" "" principle whole matter ; Jbear God and keep jus com- of obedience. mandments; for that is the whole duty of man," Had it been possible for mankind to sustain them selves upon this single principle without disguising its simplicity, their history would have been painted in far other colours than those which have so long chequered its surface. This, however, has not been given to us ; and perhaps it never will be given. As the soul is clothed in flesh, and only thus is able to perform its functions in this earth, where it is sent to Hve ; as the thought must find a word before it can pass fi-om mind to mind ; so every great truth seeks some body, some outward form in which to exhibit its powers. It appears in the world, and men lay hold of it, and represent it to them selves, in histories, in forms of words, in sacramental symbols ; and these things which in their proper nature are but illustrations, stiffen into essential fact, and be- , come part of the reality. So arises in era after era an outward and mortal expression of the inward immortal Ufe ; and at once the old struggle begins to repeat it self between the flesh and the spirit, the form and the reality. For a while the lower tendencies are held in check ; the meaning of the symbolism is remembered and fresh ; it is a living language, pregnant and sug gestive. By and bye, as the mind passes into other phases, the meaning is forgotten ; the language bo- comes a dead language ; and the living robe^ of life becomes a winding-sheet , of corruption. The form is represented as everything, the spirit as nothing ; obe dience is dispensed with ; sin and religion arrange a compromise ; and outward observances, or technical inward emotions, are converted into jugglers' tricks, by 46 The Christian Brothers. [Ch.VI. which men are enabled to enjoy their pleasures and escape the penalties of wrong. Then such religion becomes no rehgion, but a falsehood ; and honourable men turn away from it, and fall back in haste upon the naked elemental life. This, as I understand it, was the position of the eal-ly Protestants, They found the service of God buried in a system where obedience was dissipated" into supersti tion ; where sin was expiated by the vicarious virtues of other men ; where, instead of leading a holy life, men were taught that their souls might be saved through masses said for them, at a money rate, by priests whose licentiousness disgraced the nation which endured it ; a system in which, amidst all the trickery of the pardons, pilgrimages, indulgences, — double- faced as these inventions are, wearing one meaning in the apologies of theologians, and quite another to the The last multitude who live and suffer under their in form of the J -I . p 1 •••11 corruption flueuce, — One plain fact at least is visible, cism. The people substantially learnt that all evils which could touch either their spirits or their bodies might be escaped by means which resolved themselves, scarcely disguised, into the payment of moneys. The superstition had lingered long ; the time had The Protes- come wheu it was to pass away. Those in to'the'Bibie whom some craving Ungered for a Christian amd to the jjfg tumcd to the heart of the matter, to the Christ. ]3j,q]j .^yhich told tiiem who Christ was, and what he was ; and finding there that holy e:iamp]e for which they longed, they flung aside in one noble burst of enthusiastic passion the disguise which had concealed it from them. They believed in Christ, not in the bowing rood, or the pretended wood of the cross on which he suffered ; and when that saintly figiil-e '*tol The Christian Brother^. 47 had once been seen, — the object of aU love, the pat tern of aU imitation, — thenceforward neither form nor ceremony should stand between them and their God. Under much confusion of words and thoughts, con fusion pardonable iri all men, and most of all in them, this seems to me to be transparently visible in the aim of these " Christian Brothers " ; a thirst for some fresh and noble enunciation of the everlasting truth, the one essential thing for all men to khoW and believe. And therefore they were strong ; and therefore they at last conquered. Yet if we think of it, no com- jiie dangers mon daring was required in those who would had* 'iS^ stand out at such a time in defence of such a "o™'*'- cause. The bishops might seize them on mere suspi cion ; and the evidence of the most abandoned villaini sufficed for their conviction.^ By the act of Henry V., every officer, from the lord chancellor to the parish con stable, was sworn to seek them out and destroy them ; and both bishops a,nd ofiieials had shown no reluctance to execute their duty. Hunted like wild beasts froin hiding-place to hiding-place, decimated by the stake, with the certainty that however many years they might be reprieved, their own Uves would close at last in the same flery trial ; beset by informers, imprisoned, racked, and scourged ; worst of all, haunted by their own in firmities, the flesh shrinking before the dread of a death of agony, — thus it was that they struggled on ; earn ing for themselves martyrdom, — for us, the free^Eng- land in which we live and breathe. Among the great, until Cromwell came to power, they had but Henry vin. one fiiend, and he but a doubtful one, who andveiy 1 • 1 1-11 doibtftil long beUeved the truest kindness was to kill friend. them. Henry VIII. was always attracted towards the 1 Answer ofthe Bishops, Vol. I. cap. 3. 48 The Christian Brothers. [Ch.vi, persons of the reformers. Their open hearing com- manded his respect. Their worst crime in the bishops' eyes — the translating the Bible — was in his eyes not a crime, but a merit ; he had himself long desired an authorized English version, and at length compeUed the clergy to undertake it ; while in the most notorious of the men themselves, in Tyndal and in Frith, he had more than once expressed an anxious interest,^ But the convictions of his early years were long in yielding. His feeling, though genuine, extended no further than to pity, to a desire to recover estimable heretics out of errors which he would endeavour to pardon. They knew, and all the " brethren " knew, that if they per sisted, they must look for the worst from the king and from every earthly power; they knew it, and they made their account with it. An informer deposed to the council, that he had asked one of the society " how the King's Grace did take the matter against the sacra ment ; which answered, the King's Highness was ex treme against their opinions, and would punish them grievously ; also that my Lords of Norfolk and Suffolk, my Lord Marquis of Exeter, with divers other great lords, were very extreme against them. Then he (the Two thou- informer) asked him how he and his feUows out against would do sceiug this, the which answered Btantiation. they had two thousand books out against the Blessed Sacrament, in the commons' hands ; and if it were once in the commons' heads, they would have no fiirther care," ^ Tyndal then being at work at Antwerp, and the topiS^°ute society for the dispersion of his books thus ^ttmati- preparing itself in England, the authorities 1 See, particularly, Stafe Papers, VoL VII, p. 302. s Froceedmgs ofthe Christian Brethren: Rolls House MS. 1825-7.1 Wolsey's Persecutions. 49 were not slow in taking tlie alarm. The isolated dis content which had prevailed hitherto had been left to the ordinary tribunals ; the present danger called for measures of more systematic coercion. This duty naturally devolved on Wolsey, and the office of Grand Inquisitor, which he now assumed, could not have fallen into more competent hands, Wolsey was not cruel. There is no instance, I be lieve, in which he of his special motion sent The conduct . Ill 11. p oftheperse- a Victim to the stake ; — it would be well if cution un dertaken by the same praise could be allowed to Cranmer. woisey ; ¦*¦ who, how There was this difference between the cardi- ever, used his powers nal and other bishops, that while they seemed with un^ 1 • • 1 -ITT- 1 1 i™ii len to desire to punish, Wolsey was contented icncy. to silence ; wliile they, in their conduct of trials, made escape as difficult as possible, Wolsey sought rather to make submission easy. He was too wise to suppose that he could cauterize heresy, while the causes of it, in the corruption of the clergy, remained unremoved : and the remedy to which he trusted, was the infusing new vigour into the constitution of the church.^ Nevertheless, he was determined to repress, as far as outward measures could repress it, the spread of the contagion ; and he set himself to accomplish his task with the full energy of his nature, backed by the whole power, spiritual and secular, of the kingdom. The country was covered with his secret police, arresting suspected persons and searching for books. In London the scrutiny was so strict that at one time therg was a general flight and panic ; suspected butchers, tailors, and carpenters, hiding themselves in the holds of ves- 1 See the letter of Bishop Fox to Wolsey: Sfiype's MemoridU, Vol, L Appendix. TOL. u. 4 60 Wolsey's Persecutions. [Ch, VI sels in the river, and escaping across the Channel,' Even there they were not safe. Heretics were out- Heretics lawed by a common consent of the European outlawed by rpovernments. Special offenders were hunted a common & i thr™eLt^ through France by the English emissaries Powers. -with the permission and countenance of the court,^ and there was an attempt to arrest Tyndal at Brussels, from which, for that time, he happily es caped,* Simultaneously the EngUsh universities fell under examination, in consequence of the appearance of dan gerous symptoms among the younger students, Dr, Barnes and Bamcs, returning from the continent, had I^'imcr , ' 1 1 . 1 . ^1 summoned uscd Violent language in a pulpit at (Jam- before Wol- .*= * 1 .1 sey bridge ; and Latimer, then a neophyte m her esy, had grown suspect, and had alarmed the heads of houses. Complaints against both of them were forwarded to Wolsey, and they were summoned to London to answer for themselves, Latimer, for some cause, found favour with the car- Latimeris diual, and was dismissed, with a hope on the dismissed. pg^j.^ q£ jjjg judge that his accusers might prove as honest as he appeared to be, and even with a general licence to preach,* Barnes was less fortu nate ; he was far inferior to Latimer ; a noi.sy, unwise man, without reticence or prudence. In addition to his offences in matters of doctrine, he had attacked Wol sey himself with somewhat vulgar personality ; and il 1 Particulars of Persons who had dispersed Anabaptist and Lutherai Tracts : Rolls House MS. 2 Dr. Taylor to Wolsey: Rolls House MS. Clark to W Isoy: 8tal» Papers, Vol. VII. pp. 80, 81. 8 Ellis, third series, Vol. II. p. 189. * Memoirs of Latimer prefixed to Sermons, pp. 3, 4; and see StiyiM't Memorials, VoJ. I. vsn.] Wolsey's Persecutions. 51 was thought well to single him out for a pubUc, though not a very terrible admonition. His house had been searched for books, which he was suspected, and justly suspected, of having brought with him from abroad. These, however, through a timely warning of the dan ger, had been happily secreted,^ or it might have gone harder with him. As it was, he was com- Baroesis mitted to the Fleet on the charge of having JoTh"" i^t used heretical language. An abjuration was ^"^ azures drawn up by Wolsey, which he signed ; and while he remained in prison preparations were made for a cere mony, in which he was to bear a part, in St, Paul's church, by which the Cathohc authorities hoped to produce some salutary effect on the disaffected spirits of London, Vast quantities of Tyndal's publications had been collected by the police. The bishops, also, had sub scribed among themselves ^ to buy up the copies of the 1 Foxe, Vol. V. p. 416. 2 TunstaU, Bishop of London, has had the credit hitherto of this ingen ious folly, the effect of which, as Sir Thomas More wamed him, could only be to supply Tyndal with money. — Hall, 762, 763. The following letter from the Bishop of Nonvich to Warham shows that TunstaU was only act ing in canonical obedience to the resolution of his metropolitan : — " In right humble manner I commend me unto your good Lordship, doing the same to understand that I lately received your letters, dated at your manor of Lambeth, the 26th day of the month of May, by the which I do perceive that your Grace hath lately gotten into your hands aU the books of the New Testament, translated into English, and printed beyond the sea; as weU those with the glosses joined unto them as those without the glosses. " Surely, in myn opinion, you have done therein a gracious and a blessed deed ; and God, I doubt not, shall highly reward you therefore. Alid when, in your said letters, ye write that, insomuch as this matter and the danger thereof, if remedy had not been provided, should not only have touched J'ou, but all the bishops within your province ; and that it is no reason that the hoUe charge and cost thereof should rest only in you; but that they and every of them, for their part, should advance and contribute certain sums of money towards the .same ; I for my part will be contented to ad vance in this behalf, and to make payment thereof unto your servant. Ma* ter William Fotkyn. 62 Wolsey's Persecutions. [Ch. VL New Testament before they left Antwerp; — an un. Preparation promising method, like an attempt to extm* mony in St. guish fire by pouring oil upon it ; they had church. been successful, however, in obtaining a large immediate harvest, and a pyramid of offending volumes was ready to be consumed in a solemn auto daf 6. In the morning of Shrove Sunday,. then, 1527, we Procession are to picture to ourselves a procession mov- FiTOt. ing along London streets from the Fleet pris: on to St, Paul's Cathedral, The warden of the Fleet was there, and the knight marshal, and the tipstaffs, and " all the company they could make," " with bills and glaives ; " and in the midst of these armed officials, six men marching in penitential dresses, one carrying a lighted taper five pounds' weight, the others with symbolic fagots, signifjang to the lookers-on the fate which their crimes had earned for them, but which Barnes and ^'^^ time, in mercy, was remitted. One of mTnSn"* thcsc was Bamcs ; the other five were to St. Paul's. "Stillyard men," un distinguishable by any other name, but detected members of the brother hood, Jt was eight o'clock when they arrived at St, Paul's. The people had flocked in crowds before them. The public seats and benches were filled. All London had hurried to the spectacle, A platform was erected in " Pleaseth it you to understand, I am well contented to give and advanc* in this behalf ten marks, and shall cause the same to be delivered shortly, tbe which sum I think sufficient for my part, if every bishop within you. province make like contribution, after the rate and substance of their bene fices. Nevertheless, if your Grace think this sum not sufficient for my part in this matter, your further pleasure known, I shaU be as glad to con form myself thereunto in this, or any other matter concerning the church. as any your subject within your province; as knows Almighty God, wh« long preserve you. At Hoxne in Suffolk, the Uth day of June, 1517. If our humble obedience and bedeman, K. Norwicbs." 1637.] Wolsey's Persecutions. 5S the centre of the nave, on the top of which, enthroned in pomp of purple and gold and splendour, sate the great cardinal, supported on each side with eighteen bishops, mitred abbots, and priors — six-and-thirty in aU ; his chaplains and " spiritual doctors " sitting also where they could find place, " in gowns of damask and satin. Opposite the platform, over the north door of the cathedral, was a great crucifix — a famous image, in those days called the Rood of Northen ; and at the foot of it, inside a raU, a fire was burning, with the sin ful books, the Tracts and Testaments, ranged round it in baskets, waiting for the execution of sentence. Such was the scene into the midst of which the six prisoners entered, A second platform stood And exposed 1 * p e» -I 1 • ^^^ ^ public m a conspicuous place m front of the cardi- penance. nal's throne, where they could be seen and heard by the crowd; and there upon their knees, with their fagots on their shoulders, they begged pardon of God and the Holy Catholic Church for their high crimes and offences. When the confession was fin ished, Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, preached a sermon : and the sermon over, Barnes turned to the people, declaring that " he was more charitably handled than he deserved, his heresies were so heinous and de testable," There was no other religious service : mass had per haps been said previous to the admission into the church of heretics lying under censure ; and the knight mar shal led the prisoners down from the stage to the fire underneath the crucifix. They were taken They are led • i-i'-i 11 -ll 1 «»""1 * 4™i within the rails, and three times led. round and throw 111- -1 • • 1 • J' ™ "'"'' the blazing pile, casting m their fagots as fagots. 1 ^ mi Pill The Bible they passed. The contents of the baskets bnming. were heaped upon the fagots, and the holocaust was 54 Wolsey's Persecutions. [Ch, Vl complete . This time, an unbloody sacrifice was deemed sufficient. The church was satisfied with penance, and Fisher pronounced the prisoners absolved, and received back into communion,^ So ended this strange exhibition, designed to work great results on the consciences of the spectators. It may be supposed, however, that men whom the trage dies of Smithfield failed to terrify, were not likely to be affected deeply by melodrame and blazing paper. A story follows of far deeper human interest, a storj story of in which the persecution is mirrored with its Dalaber. true lights and shadows, unexaggerated by rhetoric ; and which, in its minute simplicity, brings us face to face with that old world, where men like ourselves Uved, and worked, and suffered, three cen turies ago. Two years before the time at which we have now arrived, Wolsey, in pursuance of his scheme of con verting the endowments of the religious houses to pur poses of education, had obtained permission from the pope to suppress a number of the smaUer monasteries. He had added largely to the means thus placed at his disposal from his own resources, and had founded the Cardinal's great coUegc at Oxford, which is now called feli'ulld by Christ church,^ Desiring his magnificent in- woisey, stitution to be as perfect as art could make it, he had sought his professors in Rome, in the Italian universities, wherever genius or ability could be found ; and he had introduced into the foundation several stu- 1 Foxe, Vol. IV. 2 The papal bull, and the king's licence to proceed upon it. are j tinted ji Rymer, Vol. VI. Part II. pp. 8 and 17. The latter is explicit on Wolsey'i personal liberality in establishing tliis foundation. Ultro et ex propria 11- beralitate et munificentiS,, nee sine gravissimo suo sumptu et impeneis col sgium fuidare conatur. "27.] Wolsey's Persecutions. 55 dents fro n Cambridge, who had been reported to him as being of unusual promise. Frith, of whom who intro- we have heard, was one of these. Of the rest, orfOTd^" John Clark, Sumner, and Taverner are the Cambridge most noticeable. At the time at which they unusual ° were invited to Oxford, they were tainted, fyTngunder* or some of them were tainted, in the eyes heres™" ° of the Cambridge authorities, with suspicion of het erodoxy ; i and it is creditable to Wolsey's liberality, that he set aside these unsubstantiated rumours, not allowing them to weigh against ability, industry, and character. The church authorities thought only of crushing what opposed them, especially of crush ing talent, because talent was dangerous, Wolsey's noble anxiety was to court talent, and if possible to win it. The young Cambridge students, however, iH repaid his confidence (so, at least, it must have ap- They infect peared to him), and introduced into Oxford fifXli *°* the rising epidemic, Clark, as was at last ^"^lyeilss discovered, was in the habit of reading St, wo°^°s "' Paul's Epistles to young men in his rooms ; '^'^^^¦ and a gradually increasing circle of undergraduates, of three or four years' standing,^ from various coUeges, formed themselves into a spiritual freemasonry, some of them passionately insisting on being admitted to the lectures, in spite of warnings from Clark himself, whose wiser foresight knew the risk which they were running, 1 Would God my Lord his Grace had never been motioned tc^call any Cambridge man to his most towardly college. It were a gracious deed if they were tried and purged and restored unto their mother from whence they came, if they be worthy to come thither again. We were clear with out blot or suspicion tiU they came, and some of them, as Master Dean hath known a long time, hath had a shrewd name. — Dr. London to A-ch. bishop Warham : Rolls House MS. 1 Dr. London to Warham: Rolls House MS. 56 Wolsey's Persecutions. [Ch. vi. and shrank from aUowing weak giddy spirits to thrust themselves into so fearful peril,^ This Uttle party had been in the habit of meeting for Garret about six months,^ when at Easter, 1527, m^Ti^L, Thomas Garret, a fellow of Magdalen,^ who of HML^n-^' l^^'l gone out of residence, and was curate at don Society, ^jj Hallows church, in London, reappeared 111 Oxford, Garret was a secret member of the Lon don Society, and had come down at Clark's instigation, to feel his way in the university. So excellent a be ginning had already been made, that he had only to improve upon it. He sought out all such young men as were given to Greek, Hebrew, and the polite Latin ; * and in this visit met with so much encouragement, that the Christinas following he retumed again, this time Introduces bringing with him treasures of forbidden thefSd? hooks, imported by "the Christian Broth- frZi^Qe^ ers " ; New Testaments, tracts and volumes many ^f German divinity, which he sold privately among the initiated. He lay concealed, with his store, at " the house of one Radley,"^ the position of which cannot now he identified ; and there he remained for several weeks. Orders for unsuspccted by the university authorities, tiU his H'lTBSt 1 ¦/ ¦/ are sent oi'ders wcro Sent by Wolsey to the Dean of, down from ^~^. , - i p i « -r, • . p Lonion. Ohnstchurch for his arrest. Precise infor mation was furnished at the same time respecting him- 1 Dalaber's Narrative. 2 Clark seems to have taken pupils in the long vacation. Dalaber ai least read with him all one summer in the country. — Dr. London to War ham : Rolls House MS. » 8 The Vicar of Bristol to the Master of Lincoln College, Oxford: JtdOs Bouse MS. * Dr. London to Warham: RoUs House MS. • Eadley himself was one of the singers at Christchurch, London to Warham. MS. 1528.] Story of Anthony Dalaber. bl self, his mission in Oxford, and his place of conceal ment,^ The proctors were put upon the scent, and directed to take him ; but one of them, Arthur Cole, T„eaday, of Magdalen, by name, not from any sym- i|28.^^' pathy with Garret's objects, as the sequel ^y^'p™™,* proved, but probably from old acquaintance, '««='="'P"- for they were fellows at the same college, gave him in formation of his danger, and warned him to escape. His young friends, more alarmed for their compan ion than for themselves, held a meeting instantly to decide what should be done ; and at this raeeting was Anthony Dalaber, an undergraduate of Alban Hall, and one of Clark's pupils, who will now teU the story of what followed, " The Christmas before that time, I, Anthony Dala ber, the scholar of Alban Hall, who had Baiaber's books of Master Garret, had been in my ™'™*'™- country, at Dorsetshire, at Stalbridge, where I had a brother, parson of this parish, who was very desirous to have a curate out of Oxford, and willed me in any wise to get him one there, if I could. This just occa sion offered, it was thought good among the brethren (for so we did not only call one another, but were in deed one to another), that Master Garret, changing his name, should be sent forth with my letters into Dorsetshire, to my brother, to serve him there for a time, untU he might secretly convey himself from thence some whither over the sea. According^here- unto I wrote mj letters in all haste possible unto my brother, for Master Garret to be his curate ; but not declaiing what he was indeed, for my brother was a rank papist, and afterwards was the most mortal enemy that ev(Jr I had, for the Gospel's sake. 1 Dr. London to Warham : RoUs House MS 58 Story of Anthony Dalaber. [Ch. vl « So on Wednesday (Feb, 18), in the morning be- Feb. 18. fore Shrove-tide, Master Garret departed out Garret leaves ^^ Qxford towards Dorsetshire, with my let ter, for his new service," The most important person being thus, as was sup- Anth:ny posed. Safe from immediate danger, Dalaber Aiban^Ha°i ^^^ at leisure to think a httle about himself ; "on^erned'iS ^ud supposiug, naturally, that the matter SkeTS- would not end there, and that some change ETow'sus- of residence might be of advantage for his pioi™, Q^^yjj security, he moved off from Alban Hall Tas undergraduates it seems were then at liberty to And moves do) to Glouccster College,^ under pretence CoUege. that he desired to study civil law, for which no faciUties existed at the hall. This little matter was effected on the Thursday ; and all Friday and Saturday morning he " was so much busied in setting his poor stuff in order, his bed, his books, and such things else as he had," that he had no leisure to go forth anywhere those two days, Friday and Satur day. " Having set up my things handsomely," he con tinues, " that same day, before noon, I determined to spend that whole afternoon, until evensong time, at Frideswide College,^ at my book in mine own study ; and so shut my chamber door unto me, and my study door also, and took into my head to read Francis Lam bert upon the Gospel of St, Luke, which book only I had then within there. All my other books written on the Scriptures, of which I had great numbers, I had left in my chamber at Alban's Hall, where I had made 1 On the site of the present Worcester College. It lay beyond the walls of the town, and was then some distance from it across tie field. 2 Christchurch, where Dalaber occasionally sung in the quire. Vide infra. IB28.] Story of Anthony Dalaber. 59 a very secret place to keep them safe in, because it was so dangerous to have any such books. And so, as I was dUigently reading in the same book of Lambert upon Luke, suddenly one knocked at my chamber door very hard, which made me astonished, and yet I sat still and would not speak ; then he knocked again more hard, and yet I held my peace ; and straightway he knocked again yet more fiercely ; and then I thought this : peradventure it is somebody that hath need of me : and therefore I thought myself bound to do as I would be done unto ; and so, laying my book aside, I came to the door and opened it, and there garret re- was Master Garret, as a man ainazed, whom ford',^Fri°ay I thought to have been with my brother, and ^^^ *• one with him," Garret had set out on his expedition into Dorset shire, but had been frightened, and had stolen back into Oxford on the Friday, to his old hiding-place, where, in the middle of the night, the proctors had taken him. He had been carried to Lincojn, and shut up He is taken, , , , , , and shut up in a room in the rector s house, where he at Lincoln. had been left all day. In the afternoon the rector went to chapel, no one was stirring about the college, and he had taken advantage of the opportunity to slip the bolt of the door and escape. He had a from A whence he friend at Gloucester College, " a monk who escapes, ° ' Saturday, had bought books of him;" and Glouces- Feb. 21, ter lying on the outskirts of the town, he had hur ried down there as the readiest place of shelter, . Tlie monk was out ; and as no time was to be lost. Garret asked the servant on the staircase to show him Dala ber's rooms. As soon as the door was opened, " he said he was undone, for he was taken," " Thus he spake unad- 60 Story of Anthony Dalaber. [Ca. Tl visedly in the presence of the young man, who at once And goes to slipped down the stairs," it was to be feared, ^^B^' on no good errand, " Then I said to him," Dalaber goes on, " alas, Master Garret, by this your uncircumspect coming here and speaking so before the young man, you have disclosed yourself and utterly undone me, I asked him why he was not in Dorset shire, He said he had gone a day's journey and a half ; but he was so fearful, his heart would none other but that he must needs return again unto Oxford, VV^ith deep sighs and plenty of tears, he prayed me to help to convey him away ; and so he cast off his hood and gown wherein he came to me, and desired me to give him a coat with sleeves, if 1 had any ; and he told me that he would go into Wales, and thence con vey himself, if he might, into Gerraany, Then I put on him a sleeved coat of mine. He would also have had another manner of cap of me, but I had none but priestlike, such as his own was, " Then kneeled we both down together upon our knees, and lifting up our hearts and hands to God our heavenly Father, desired him, with plenty of tears, so to conduct and prosper him in his journey, that he might well escape the danger of all his enemies, to the glory of His Holy Name, if His good pleasure aud wil] so were. And then we embraced and kissed the one the other, the tears so abundantly flowing out from Dalaber ^oth our cycs, that we all bewet both our !Ssuis™s^d faces, and scarcely for sorrow could we speak i^Xoi- one to another. And so he departed from me. ^'"'' apparelled in my coat, being committed unto the tuition of our Almighty and merciful Father. " When he was gone down the stairs from my cham ber, I straightways did shut my chamber door, and 1528.] Story of Anthony Dalaber. 61 went into my study ; and taking the New Testament in my hands, kneeled down on my knees, and with many a deep sigh and salt tear, I did, with much de- Uberation, read over the tenth chapter of St. Mat thew's Gospel,! praying that God would endue his tender and lately-born little flock in Oxford with heavenly strength by his Holy Spirit ; that quietly to their own salvation, with all godly patience, they might bear Christ's heavy cross, which I now saw was presently to be laid on their young and weak backs, unable to bear so huge a burden without the great help of his Holy Spirit, " This done, I laid aside my book safe, folded up Master Garret's gown and hood, and so, hav- Daiaber goes ° to Frides- mg put on my short gown, and shut my wide. doors, I went towards Frideswide (Christchurch), to speak with that worthy martyr of God, Master Clark, 1 Soiae part of which let us read with him. " I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves ; he ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as doves. But beware of men, for they will deliver you up to the councils, and they will scourge you in their sjTiagogues ; and ye shall be brought hefore governors aud kings for my sake, for a testimony against tbem and the gentiles. But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak, for it shaU be given you in that same hour what ye shall j9peak ; for it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you. And the brother shall deliver up the brother to death ; and the father the child ; and the children shall rise up against their par ents, and cause them to be put to death. And ye shall be hated of all meu for my name's sake : but he that endureth to the end shall be sated. Whosoever shall confess me before men, hira will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. Whosoever shall deny me before men, hirn will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven. Think not that I am come to send peace on earth ; I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a man's foes shaU he they of his own hoflsehold. He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. He that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. He that taketh not his cross and followeth after me is not worthy of me. He that findeth his lift •hall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shaU find it." 6i Story of Anthony Dalaber. [Ch. Vl But of purpose I went by St, Mary's church, to go first unto Corpus Christi CoUege, to speak with Diet and Udal, my faithful brethren and fellows in the Lord, By chance I met by the way a brother of ours, one Master Eden, feUow of Magdalen, who, as soon as he saw me, said, we were all undone, for Master Garret was returned, and was in prison, I said it was not so ; he said it was, I heard, quoth he, our Proctor, Master Cole, say and declare the same this day. Then I told him what was done ; and so made haste to Frideswide, to find Master Clark, for I thought that he and others would be in great sorrow. " Evensong was begun ; the dean and the canons Vespers at wcrc there in their grey amices ; they were thecathe- , -,j- -r. i p t i- i drai. almost at Magnifacat before 1 came thither, I stood in the choir door and heard Master Taverner play, and others of the chapel there sing, with and among whom I myself was wont to sing also ; but. now my singing and music were turned into sighing and musing. As I there stood, in cometh Dr, Cottisford,! the commissary, as fast as ever he could go, bareheaded, as pale as ashes "(I knew his grief well enough) ; and to the dean he goeth into the choir, where he was sit ting in his stall, and talked with him, very sorrowfuUy : what, I know not ; but whereof I might and did truly guess, I went aside from the choir door to see and hear more. The coramissary and dean came out of bhe choir, wonderfully troubled as it seemed. About the middle of the church, met them Dr, London,^ puf fing, blustering, and blowing like a hungry and greedy Uon seeking his prey. They talked together awhile , but the commissary was much blamed by them, inso much that he wept for sorrow, 1 Rector of Lmcoln. 2 Warden of New College. 1628.1 Story of Anthony Dalaber. 6S " The doctors departed, and sent abroad their ser vants and spies everywhere. Master Clark, about the middle of the compline,^ came forth of the choir, I followed him to his chamber, and declared what had happened that afternoon of Master Garret's escajie. Then he sent for one Master Sumner and Thebrothew Master Bets, fellows and canons there. In ""'°*' ihe meantime he gave me a very godly exhorta tion, praying God to give us all the wisdom of the serpent and the harmlessness of doves, for we should shortly have much need thereof When Master Sum ner and Master Bets carae, he caused me to declare again the whole matter to thera two. Then desiring them to tell our other brethren in that college, I went to Corpus Christi College, to comfort our brethren there, where I found in Diet's chamber, looking for me, Fitzjames, Diet, and Udal. They all knew the matter before by Master Eden, whom I had sent unto Fitzjames, So I tarried there and supped with them, where they had provided meat and drink for us before my coming ; and when we had ended, Fitzjames would needs have me to lie that night with him in my old lodging at Alban's Hall, But small rest and Uttle sleep took we both there that night," The next day, which was Sunday, Dalaber rose at five o'clock, and as soon as he could leave gunaay, the Hall, hastened off to his rooras at Glouces- ^''*- ^¦ ter. The night had been wet and stormy, and his shoes and stockings were covered with mud. The coUege gates, when he reached them, were still closed, an unusual thing at that hour ; and he walked up and down under the waUs in the bleak grey morning, tiU the clock struck seven, "much disquieted, his head 1 The last prayer. i>4 Story of Anthony Dalaber. [Ch- Vi. fiill Ol forecasting cares," but resolved, like a brave ii.ar., that come what would, he would accuse no one, and declare nothing but what he saw was already known. The gates were at last opened ; he went tc his rooms, and for some time his key would not turn •Dalaber's i" ^^^ door, the lock having been meddled seareLd by with. At length he succeeded in entering, Bary^aniTthe ^^^ fouud everything in confusion, his bed P°''™ tossed and tumbled, his study-door open, and his clothes strewed about the floor, A monk who oc cupied the opposite rooms, hearing hira return, came to him and said that the commissary and the two proctors had been there looking for Garret, Bills and swords had been thrust through the bed-straw, and every cor ner of the room searched for him. Finding nothing, they had left orders that Dalaber, as soon as he re turned, should appear before the prior of the students, " This so troubled me," Dalaber says, " that I for got to make clean my hose and shoes, and to shift me into another gown ; and all bedirted as I was, I went to the said prior's chamber," The prior asked him where he had slept that night. At Alban's Hall, he answered, with his old bedfellow, Fitzjames, The prior said he did not believe him, and asked if Garrel had been at his rooms the day before. He replied that he had. Whither had he gone, then ? the prior inquired ; and where was he at that time ? "I an- Daiaberis swered," says Dalaber, "that I knew not. arrested. '' He is exam- uuless he was gouc to Woodstock ; he told me ined about i i i , his friend's that he would go there, because one of the escape, and , , . , tejs a Ue. keepers had promised him a piece of venison to make merry with at Shrovetide, This tale I thought meetest, though it were nothing so," ^ 1 Dr. Maitland, who haa an indifierent opinion of the early Protestant* 1628.] Story of Anthony Dalaher. 65 At this moraent the university beadle entered with two of the coramissary's servants, bringing a He is taken message to the prior that he should repair at Coiiege°a°nd once to Lincoln, taking Dalaber with him, ™th™om- " I was brought into the chapel," the latter wo'otacr continues, "and there I found Dr, Cottisford, h^L? commissary; Dr, Higdon,Dean of Cardinal's CoUege; and Dr, London^ Warden of New College ; standing together at the altar. They called for chairs and sate down, and then [ordered] me to come to them ; they asked me what my name was, how long I had been at the university, what I studied," with various other inquiries : the clerk of the university, mean while, bringing pens, ink, and paper, and arranging a table with a few loose boards upon tressels, A mass book, he says, was then placed before him, and he was commanded to lay his hand upon it, and swear that he would answer truly such questions as should be asked him. At first he refused ; but afterwards, being especially on the point of veracity, brings forward this assertion of Dalaber as an illustration of what he considers their recklessness. It seems ob vious, however, that a falsehood of this kind is something different in kind from what we commonly mean by unveracity, and has no affinity with it. 1 do not see my way to a conclusion; but I am satisfied that Dr. Mait- land's strictures are unjust. If Garret was taken, he was in danger of a cruel death, and his escape could only be made possible by throwing the bloodhounds off the scent. A refusal to answer would not have been sufii cient; and the general laws by which our conduct is ordinarily to be di-" rected cannot be made so universal in their application as to meet all con tingencies. It is a law that we may not strike or kill other men, but occasions rise in which we may innocently do both. I may kill a man in defence of my own life or my friend's life, or even of my friend's property; and surely the circumstances which dispense with obedience to one law may dispense equaUy with obedience to another. Jfl may VSH a man to prevent him from robbing my friend, why may I not deceive a man to save my friend ii'om being barbarously murdered ? It is possible that the highest morality would forbid me to do either. 1 am unable to see why, if the first be permissible, the second should be a crime. Rahab of Jer icho did the same thing which Dalaber did, and on that very ground waa placed in the catalogue of saints. T DL. II. 6 66 Story of Anthony Dalaber. [Ch, vl persuaded, " partly by fafr words, and partly by great threats," he promised to do as they would have him ; but in his heart he " meant nothing so to do," " So I laid my hand on the book," he goes on, " and one of them gave me my oath, and commanded me to kiss the book. They made great courtesy between them who should examine me ; at last, the rankest Pharisee ( f them all took upon him to do it, " Then he asked me again, hy my oath, where Mas- He again t®^^ Garret was, and whither I had conveyed tells a he. jjjjjj_ J gg^j^ J j^^^j ^^^ couvcyed him, nor yet wist where he was, nor whither he was gone, except he were gone to Woodstock, as I had before said. Surely, they said, I brought him some whither this morning, for they might well perceive by ray foul shoes and dirty hosen that I had traveUed with him the most part of the night, I answered plainly, that I lay at Alban's Hall with Sir Fitzjames, and that I had good witness thereof They asked rae where I was at even song, I told them at Frideswide, and that I saw, first. Master Commissary, and then Master Doctor London, gg jg come thither to Master Dean. Doctor Lon- ^IT^r* don and the Dean threatened me that if I "**' would not tell the trnth I should surely be sent to the Tower of London, and there be racked, and put into Little-ease.^ " At last when they could get nothing out of me whereby to hurt or accuse any man, or to know any thing of that which they sought, they aU three to gether brought rae up a long stairs, into a great cham ber, over Master Commissary's chamber, wherein stood a great pair of very high stocks. Then Master Com missary asked me for ray purse and girdle, and tcwk 1 A ceU iu the Tower, the nature of which we need not inquire into. 1628.] Story of Anthony Dalaber. 67 away my money and my knives ; and then they put my legs into the stocks, and so locked me fast And is put in them,, in which I sate, ray feet being al- ii'tii««''"'kB most as high as my head ; and so they departed, lock ing fast the door, and leaving me alone, " When they were all gone, then came into my re membrance the worthy forewarning and godly declara tion of that most constant raartyr of God, Master John Clark, who, weU nigh two years before that, when I did earnestly desire him to grant me to be his scholar, said unto me after this sort : ' Dalaber, you desire you wot not what, and that which you are, I fear, unable to take upon you ; for though now my preaching be Bweet and pleasant to you, because there is no perse cution laid on you for it, yet the time will corae, and that, peradventure, shortly, if ye continue to live godly therein, that God will lay on you the cross of persecution, to try you whether you can as pure gold abide the fire. You shall be called and judged a heretic ; you shall be abhorred of the world ; your own friends and kinsfolk will forsake you, and also hate you ; you shall be cast into prison, and none shall dare to help you; you shall be accused before bishops, to your reproach and sharae, to the great sor row of all your friends and kinsfolk. Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine ; then will ye curse Clark, and wish that ye had never known him because he hath brought you to all these troubles,' " At which words I was so grieved that I ^11 down on my knees at his feet, and with tears and sighs besought him that, for the tender mercy of God, he would not refuse me ; saying that I trusted, verily, that he which had begun this in me would not forsake me, but would give me grace to continue therein to the 68 Story of Anthony Dalaier. [Ch. vi end. When he heard me say so, he came to me, took me in his arms and kissed me, the tears trickling from his eyes ; and said unto me : ' The Lord God Al mighty grant you so to do ; and frora henceforth for ever, take me for your father, and I will take you for my son in Christ,' " In these meditations the long Sunday morning wore He Btiii re- away, A Uttle before noon the commissary fuses to con- -^ . , « , , , fess where came again to see if his prisoner was more Garret is i T /^ i- i • i -n i • gone, amenable ; finding him, however, stiU obsti nate, he offered hira some dinner — a promise which we will hope he fulfilled, for here Dalaber's own nar rative abruptly forsakes us,^ leaving uncompleted, at this point, the most vivid picture which remains to us of a fraction of English life in the reign of Henry VIII, If the curtain fell finally on the little group of stu dents, this narrative alone would furnish us with rare insight into the circumstances under which the Protr estants fought their way. The story, however, can be carried something further, and the strangest incident connected with it remains to be told. Dalaber breaks off on Sunday at noon. The same Monday, day, or early the following morning, he was Feb. 23. submitted once more to examination : this time, for the discovery of his own offences, and to in duce him to give up his confederates. With respect to the latter he proved " raarvellous obstinate." " AU that was gotten of him was with much difficulty ; " nor would he confess to any names as connected with heresy or heretics except that of Clark, which was Butae- already known. About himself he was more knowiedgea opgjj. He wrotc his " book of heresy," that heimiea ^ jjjg confession of faith, "with his own I- Foxe, Vol. V. p. 421 1528.] Escape of Garret. 69 hand," — his evening's occupation, perhaps, in the stocks in the rector of Lincoln's house ; and the next day he was transferred to prison. ^ This offender being thus disposed of, and strict secresy being observed to prevent the spread of alarm. a rapid search was set on foot for books in search fbr all suspected quarters. The fear of the au- *"*'• thorities was that " the infect persons would flee," and " convey " their poison " away with them," ^ The ofiieials, once on the scent of heresy, were skilful in running down the game. No time was lost, and by Monday evening many of " the brethren " had been arrested, their rooras examined, and their forbidden treasures discovered and rifled, Dalaber's store was found " hid with marvellous secresy ; " and in one student's desk a duplicate of Garret's list — the titles of the volumes with which the first " Religious Tract Society " set themselves to convert England, Information of all this was conveyed in haste by Dr, London to the Bishop of Lincoln, as the ordinary of the university ; and the warden told his story with much self-congratulation. On one point, however, the news which he had to communicate was less satisfac tory. Garret himself was gone — utterly gone, Dala ber was obstinate, and no clue to the track of the fugi tive could be discovered. The police were at fault; neither bribes nor threats could elicit any- .p^^ heads oi thing; and in these desperate circurastances, ^"iToncc"'- as he told the bishop, the three heads of houses f^'nomrto conceived that they might strain a point of t^aXof "" propriety for so good a purpose as to prevent 6*"<''- the escape of a heretic. Accordingly, after a fuU re- I Dr. London to the Bishop of Lmcoln : RoUs Bouse MS. 2 Ibid. 70 Perplexity of the Authorities. [Ch. vi port of the points of their success. Doctor London went on to relate the following remarkable proceeding : " After Master Garret escaped, the commissary being in extreme pensiveness, knew tio other remedy bui this extraordinary, and caused a figure to be made by oiu expert in astronomy — and his judgment doth contin ually persist upon this, that he filed in a tawny coat south-eastward, and is in the middle of London, 2nd ivill shortly to the sea side. He was curate unto the parson of Honey Lane,^ It is likely he is privily cloaked there. Wherefore, as soon as I knew the judgment of this astronoraer, I thought it expedient and ray duty with all speed to ascertain your good lordship of all the preraises ; that in time your lord ship may advertise my lord his Grace, and my lord of London, It will be a gracious deed that he and all his pestiferous works, which he carrieth about, might be taken, to the salvation of his soul, opening of many privy heresies, and extinction of the same," ^ We might rauch desire to know what the bishop's Tuesday, sensations were in reading this letter — to Feb. 24. linow whether it occurred to him that in this naive acknowledgment, the Oxford heresy hunters were themselves confessing to an act of heresy ; and that by the law of the church, which they were so eager to administer, they were liable to the same death which they were so zealous to secure for the poor ven dors of Testaments, So indeed they really were. Consulting the stars had been ruled from immemorial time to be deaUng with the devil ; the penalty of it was the same as for witchcraft; yet here was a reverend 1 Dr. Forman, rector of AU Hallows, who had himself been in troublt for heterodoxy. « Dr. London to the Bishop of Lincoln, Feb. 20. 1528: Rolls House MS. 1528.; The Ports are set for Garret's Capture. 71 warden of a coUege considering it his duty tc write eagerly of a discovery obtained by these forbidden means, to his own diocesan, begging him to communi cate with the Cardinal of York and the Bishop of Lon don, that three of the highest church authorities in England might become partidpes criminis, by acting on this diabolical information. Meanwhile, the commissary, not wholly relying on the astrologer, but resolving prudently to Theprinci- make use of the more earthly resources ?o^' §arret°'s' which were at his disposal, had sent in forma- "'"p'"'^''- tion of Garret's escape to the corporations of Dover, Rye, Winchester, Southampton, and Bristol, with de scriptions of the person of the fugitive ; and this step was taken with so much expedition, that before the end of the week no vessel was allowed to leave either of those harbours without being strictly searched. The natural method proved more effectual than the supernatural, though again with the assistance of a sin gular accident. Garret had not gone to London ; un fortunately for himself, he had not gone to Wales as he had intended. He left Oxford, as we saw, the evening of Saturday, February 21st, That night he reached a village called Corkthrop,^ where he lay concealed till Wednesday ; and then, not in the astrologer's orange- tawny dress, but in "a courtier's coat and buttoned cap," which he had by some means contrived to pro cure, he set out again on his forlorn journey, garret goes making for the nearest sea-port, Bristol, ^IS'tokei where the police were looking out to receive fiiher-in- him. His choice of Bristol was peculiarly o5-ord"'° unlucky. The " chapman " of the town was f"'""'"'- 1 Now Cokethorpe Park, three miles firom Stanton Harcourt, and about twelve from Oxford. The viUage has disappeared. 72 Garret goes to Bristol, and is taken. [Ch. vl the step-father of Cole, the Oxford proctor: to this person, whose name was Master Wilkyns, the proctor had written a special letter, in addition to the commis sary's circular ; and the family connexion acting as a spur to his natural activity, a coast-guaid had been set before Garret's arrival, to watch for him doAvn the Avon banks, and along the Channel shore for fiftewi miles. All the Friday night " the mayor, with ihe aldermen, and twenty of the council, had kept privy watch," and searched suspicious houses at Master Wilkyns's instance ; the whole population were on the alert, and when the next afternoon, a week after his escape, the poor heretic, footsore and weary, dragged himself into the town, he found that he had walked into the lion's mouth,'. He quickly learnt the danger to which he was exposed, and hurried off again with the best speed which he could command ; but it was too late. The chapman, alert and indefatigable, had heard that a stranger had been seen in the street ; the police were set upon his track, and he was taken at Bedmin ster, a suburb on the opposite bank of the Avon, and hurried before a magistrate, where he at once acknowl edged his identity. With such happy success were the good chapman's Saturday, efforts rewarded. Yet in this world there is Feb. 28. jjQ jjgjjj. .yyjt]jout shadow ; no pleasure with out its alloy. In imagination. Master Wilkyns had Jiaster Wil- thought of himsclf conducting the prisoner in Sm^V"" triumpn into the streets of Oxford, the hero S,?appo^o* of the hour. The sour formality of the lav '"°°'- condemned him to ill-merited disappointment. Garret had been taken beyond the liberties of the city ; it was necessary, therefore, to commit him to the coimty 1 Vicai of All Saints, Bristol, to the Rector of Lincohi : Bolls House MS. 1628.] The Investigation at Oxford. 73 gaol, and he was sent to Ilchester, " Master WiUiyns offered himself to be bound to the said jus- Oaiptis tice in three hundred pounds to discharge him Chester, and of the said Garret, and to see him surely to London, Master Proctor's of Oxford ; yet could he not have him, for the justice said that the order of the law would not so serve," ^ The fortunate captor had therefore to con tent himself with the consciousness of his exploit, and the favourable report of his conduct which was sent to the bishops ; and Garret went first to Ilchester, and thence was taken by special writ, and surrendered to Wolsey, Thus unkind had fortune shown herself to the chief criminal, guilty of the unpardonable offence of selling Testaraents at Oxford, and therefore hunted down as a raad dog, and a coraraon enemy of mankind. He es caped for the present the heaviest conse- where b« quences, for Wolsey persuaded him to abjure, '^'^^'"^¦ A few years later we shall again meet him, when he had recovered his better nature, and would not abjure, and died as a brave man should die. In the mean time we return to the university, where the author ities were busy trampling out the remains of the con flagration. Two days after his letter respecting the astrologer, the Warden of New College wrote again to, iheinvesti- the Diocesan, with an account of his further ^^Ztilon- proceedings. He was an efficient inquisitor, ''^"''' and the secrets of the poor undergi-aduates had been unraveUed to the last thread. Some of " the brethren " had confessed ; aU were in prison ; and the doctor de sired instructions as to what should be done with them. It must be said for Dr, London, that he was anxious that they should be treated lenientiy, Dalaber de- '- The Vicar of All Saints tc the Kector of Lincohii BoUs Bouse MS. 74 Doctor London's Intercession. [Ch, vi, scribed him as a roaring lion, and he was a bad man, and came at last to a bad end. But it is pleasant to find that even he, a mere blustering arrogant ofiicial, was not wholly without redeeming points of character ; and as little good will be said for him hereafter, the fol lowing passage in his second letter may be placed to the credit side of his account. The tone in which he wrote was at least humane, and must pass for more than an expression of natural kindness, when it is re membered that he was addressing a person with whom tenderness for heresy was a crime, " These youths," he said, " have not been long con- Doctor Lon- versant with Master Garret, nor have greatly the Bishop perused his mischievous books ; and long he- advising a' fore Master Garret was taken, divers of them pardon. were weary of these works, and delivered them to Dalaber, I am marvellous sorry for the young men. If they be openly called upon, although they appear not greatly infect, yet they shall never avoid slander, because my Lord's Grace did send for Master Garret to be taken, I suppose his Grace will know of your good lordship everything. Nothing shall be hid, I assure your good lordship, an every one of them were my brother ; and I do only make this moan for these youths, for surely they be of the most towardly young men in Oxford ; and as far as I do yet per ceive, not greatly infect, but much to blame for read ing any part of these works," ' Doctor London's intercession, if timid, was gener ous; he obviously wished to suggest that the matter should be hushed up, and that the offending parties should be dismissed with a reprimand. If the deci sion had rested with Wolsey, it is Ukely that this 1 Dr. London to the Bishop of Lmcoln: RoUs House MS. 1528.] The Bishop of Lincoln. 75 view would have been readUy acted upon. But the Bishop of Lincoln was a person in whom the spirit of humanity had been long exorcised by the spirit of an ecclesiastic. He was staggering along the last years of a life against which his own register ' bears dreadful witness, and he would not burden his conscience with mercy to heretics. He would not mar the Thebtshop completeness of his barbarous career. He punishment singled out three of the prisoners — Garret, Clark, and Ferrars ^ — and especially entreated that they should be punished, " They be three perilous men," he wrote to Wolsey, " and have been the occasion of the corruption of youth. They have done much mischief, and for the love of God let them be han dled thereafter," ^ Wolsey had Garret in his own keeping, and declined to surrender him, Ferrars had been taken at the Black Friars, in London,* and making his submission, was respited, and escaped with abjuration. But Clark was at Oxford, in the bishop's power, and the wicked old man was allowed to work his will upon him, A bill of heresy was drawn, which the prisoner was required to sign. He refused, and must have been ciarkdiesin sent to the stake, had he not escaped by dy- p™™" ing prematurely of the treatment which he had re ceived in prison,* His last words only are recorded. 1 Long extracts from it are printed in Foxe, Vol. IV. 2 Another of the brethren, afterwards Bishop of St. David's, and one of the Marian victims. 8 Bishop of Lincoln to Wolsey, March 5, 1527-8: Rolls Hmise MS.; and see Ellis, third series. Vol. II. p. 77. * Ellis, third series. Vol. II. p. 77. 6 With some others he " was cast into a prison where the salt-fish lay, through the stink whereof the most part of them were infected; and the did Clark, being a tender young man, died in the same prison." — Foxe, Vol. nr. p. 615. 76 Oxford is Purged. [Ch, VL He was refused the communion, not perhaps as a spe cial act of cruelty, but because the laws of the church would not aUow the holy thing to be profaned by the touch of a heretic. When he was told that it would not be suffered, he said " crede et manducdsti " — " faith His last i^ ^^^ communion ; " and so passed away ; a words. very noble person, so far as the surviving features of his character will let us judge ; one who, if \iis manhood had fulfiUed the promise of his youth, flTould have taken no coramon part in the Reforma tion, The remaining brethren were then dispersed. Some oaiaber and were seut homo to their friends, — others, tarry fagots Authouy Dalaber araong thera, were placad street OU their trial, and being terrified at their position, recanted, and were sentenced to do penance, Ferrars was brought to Oxford for the occasion, and we discern indistinctly (for the mere fact is all which survives) a great fire at Carfax ; a crowd of spectators, and a procession of students marching up High-street with fagots on their shoulders, the solemn beadles leading them with gowns and maces. The ceremony was repeated to which Dr, Barnes had been submitted at St, Paul's, They were taken three times round the fire, throwing in each first their fagot, and then some one of the offending books, in token that they repented and renounced their errors. Thus was Oxford purged of heresy. The state of Oxford is innocence which Dr, London pathetically la- purged. mented ^ was restored, and the heads of houses had peace till their rest was broken by a ruder storm. In this single specimen we may see a coraplete im age of Wolsey's persecution, as with varying details it I London to Warham : Rolls House MS. 1628.] Temper of the Protestants. 77 was carried out in every town and village from the Tweed to the Land's End, I dwell on the stories of individual suffering, not to colour the narrative, or to reawaken feelings of bitterness which may well rest now and sleep for ever, but because, through the years in which it was struggling for recognition, the history of Protestantism is the history of its martyrs. The early No rival theology, as I have said, had as yet Protestant- shaped itself into formulas. We have not to history of it» 1 . 1 1 . f. , martyrs and trace any slow growing elaboration of opin- confessors, ion. Protestantism, before it becarae an establish • ment, was a refusal to live any longer in a lie. It was a falling back upon the undefined untheoretic rules of truth and piety which lay upon the surface of the Bible, and a determination rather to die than to mock with unreality any longer the Almighty Maker of the world. We do not look in the dawning manifestations of such a spirit for subtleties of intellect. Intellect, as it ever does, followed in the wake of the higher virtues of manly honesty and truthfulness. And the Anditsevi- ,. . /¥• 1 -, -I, dences, their evidences which were to effect the world s endurance .. and suffer- conversion were no cunningly arranged syl- ing. logistic demonstrations, but once more those loftier evidences which lay in the calm endurance by heroic men of the extremities of suffering, and which touched, not the mind with conviction, but the heart with ad miring reverence. In the concluding years of his administration, Wolsey was embarrassed with the divorce. Difficulties were gathering round hira, from the faUure of his hopes abroad and the wreck of his popularity at home ; and the activity of the persecution was something relaxed, as the guiding mind of the great minister ceased to have leisure to attend to it. The bishops, however, 78 The Fall of Wolsey brings no Belief. [Ch. vi. continued, each in his own diocese, to act with such Wolsey falls, vigour as they possessed. Their courts were Be"utk)nT' unceasingly occupied with vexatious suits, b™the"°'* commenced without reason, and conducted bishops. without justice. They sumraoned arbitrarily as suspected offenders whoever had the misfortune to have provoked their dislike ; either compelUng them to crirainate themselves by questions on the intricacies of theology,^ or aUowing sentence to be passed against them on the evidence of abandoned persons, who would not have been adraissible as witnesses before the sec ular tribunals,^ * It raight have been thought that the clear percep- The House tiou which was showu bj' the House of Com- to chSwng'' mons pf the injustice with which the trials for ^rosMuTions, hcresy were conducted, the disregard, shame- .toproS'' ^sss ^^^ flagrant, of the provisions of the are^eaiiy" statutcs uudcr which the bishops were en- hereticai. ablcd to procccd, might have led them to reconsider the equity of persecution in itself; or, at least, to remove from the office of judges persons who had shown theraselves so signaUy unfit to exercise that office. It would have been indecent, however, if not impossible, to transfer to a civil tribunal the cognizance of opinion ; and, on the other hand, there was as yet among the upper classes of the laity no kind of disposi* tion to be lenient towards those who were really unor thodox. The desire so far was only to check the reck less and random accusations of persons whose offence was to have criticised, not the doctrine, but the moral I Petition of the Commons, Vol. I. cap. 3. » Ibid. And, as we saw in the bishops' reply, they considered theii practice in these respects wholly defensible. — See Reply of ihe Bishi^ cap. 3. «29.] Sir Thmnas More as Chancellor. 79 conduct of the church authorities. The Protestants, although from the date of the meeting of TheProtes- the parhament and Wolsey's fall their ulti- lose than , ... ... gain in the mate triumph was certam, gained nothing m revolution its immediate consequences. They suffered lowed on the rather from the eagerness of the political re- sey. formers to clear themselves from complicity with het erodoxy ; and the bishops were even taunted with the spiritual dissensions of the realm as an evidence of thefr indolence and misconduct,^ Language of this kind boded iU for the " Christian Brethren " ; and the choice of Wolsey's successor for the office of chancellor soon confirraed their apprehensions : Wolsey had chastised them with whips ; Sir Thomas More would g;,, a chastise them with scorpions ; and the philos- S^^uor- opher of the Utopia, the friend of Erasmus, **¦ whose life was of blameless beauty, whose genius was cultivated to the highest attainable perfection, was to prove to the world that the spfrit of persecution is no peculiar attribute of the pedant, the bigot, or the fanatic, but may coexist with the fairest graces of the human character. The lives of remarkable men usu ally iUustrate sorae eraphatic truth. Sir Thomas More may be said to have lived to Ulustrate the necessary tendencies of Romanism in an honest mind convinced of its truth ; to show that the test of sincerity ^he tme in a man who professes to regard orthodoxy ^rftyVna' as an essential of salvation, is not the readi- ^athouc. ness to endure persecution, but the courage which will venture to inflict it. The seals were delivered to the new chancellor in November, 1529, By his oath on entermg office he was bound to exert himself to the utmost for the sup- 1 Petition of the Commons, cap 3, 80 Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. [Ch. vi pression of heretics : ^ he was bound, however, equally to obey the conditions under which the law aUowed them to be suppressed. Unfortunately for his reputa tion as a judge, he permitted the hatred of " that kind of men," which he did not conceal that he felt,^ to obscure his conscience on this important feature of his iuty, and tempt him to imitate the worst iniquities ol the bishops, I do not intend in this place to relate the stories of his cruelties in his house at Chelsea,^ which he himself partially denied, and which at least we may hope were exaggerated. Being obliged to confine my- yelf to specific instances, I choose rather those on which the evidence is not open to question ; and which prove against More, not the zealous execution of a cruel law, for which we may not fairly hold him responsible, but a disregard, in the highest degree censurable, of his obligations as a judge. The acts under which heretics were Uable to punish ment, were the 15th of the 2d of Henry IV,, and the 1st of the 2d of Henry V, By the act of Henry IV,, the bishops were bound to In cases of bring offenders to trial in open court, within kgarperiod three months of their arrest, if there were me^''pre™' "o lawful impediment. If conviction fol- w^thra™' lowed, they might imprison at their discre- jQonths. ^Jqjj_ JSxcept under these conditions, they were not at Uberty to imprison. By the act of Henry V,, a heretic, if he was first todSents indicted before a secular judge, was to be 1 2 Hen. V. stat. 1. ' He had been " troublesome to heretics," he said, and he had " done it with a little ambition ; " for " he so hated this kind of men, that he would bo the sorest enemy that they could have, if they would not repent." ~ More's life of More, p. 211. » See Foxe, Vol. IV. pp. 689, 698, 705. 1529.] .^Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. 81 delivered within ten days Tor, if possible, a before me shorter period) to the bishop, " to be acquit the accuse'i ,, , , , , . . , person was or convict by a jury m the spiritual court, tobedeiiv- and to be dealt with accordingly, i bishops The secular judge might detain a heretic for days. ten days before delivering him to the bishop, Tlie bishoj, might detain him for three months before his trial. Neither the secular judge nor the bishop had power to inflict indefinite imprisonment at will while the trial was delayed ; nor, if on the trial the bishop failed in securing a conviction, was he at liberty to detain the accused person any longer on the same charge, because the result was not satisfactory to himself. These pro visions were not preposterously lenient. Sir Thomas More should have found no difficulty in ob- More's care- serving them himself, and in securing the ob- obserring servance of. them by the bishops, at least in visions. cases where he was himself responsible for the first committal. It is to be feared that he forgot that he was a judge in his eagerness to be a partisan, and per mitted no punctilious legal scruples to interfere with the more important object of ensuring punishment to heretics. The first case which I shall mention is one in which the Bishop of London was principaUy guilty ; not, how ever, without More's countenance, and, if Foxe is to be believed, his efficient support. In December, 1529, the month succeeding his ap pointment as chancellor. More, at the in- cfeeof „ . Thomas stance of the Bishop of London,'' arrested a I'hiiips. citizen of London, Thomas PhiUps by name, on a charge of heresy. The prisoner was surrendered in due form to his 2 Hen, V. stat. 1. ^ John Stokesley. you u. 6 82 Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. [Ch. vi diocesan, and was brought to trial on the 4th of Febru ary ; a series of articles being alleged against him by Foxford, the bishop's vicar-general. The articles were of the usual kind. The prisoner was accused of hav ing used unorthodox expressions on transubstantiation, on purgatory, pilgrimages, and confession. It does not appear whether any witnesses were produced. The vicar-general brought his accusations on the ground of general rumour, and failed to raaintain them. Whethei there were witnesses or not, neither the particular of fences, nor even the fact of the general rumour, could be proved to the satisfaction of the jury. Philips himself encountered each separate charge with a spe cific denial, declaring that he neither was, nor ever had been, other than orthodox ; and the result of the trial was, that no conviction could be obtained. The prisoner " was fountl so clear frora all raanner of infa mous slanders and suspicions, that all the people before the said bishop, shouting in judgment as with one voice, openly witnessed his good name and fame, to the great reproof and shame of the said bishop, if he had not been asharaed to be ashamed," ^ The case had broken down ; the proceedings were over, and by law the ac cused person was free. But the law, except when it was on their own side, was of little importance to the churcli authorities. As they had faUed to prove Philips guilty of heresy, they called upon him to con fess his guilt by abjuring it ; " as if," he says, " there were no difference between a nocent and an innocent, between a guilty and a not guilty." ^ He refused resolutely, and was remanded to prison, I Petition of Thomas Philips to the House of Commons: RoUs Borne MS. " Ibid. „, , ^. 1629-30.] Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. 83 in open -violation of the law. The bishop, in conjunc tion with Sir Thomas More,^ sent for him from time to time, submitting him to private examinations, which again were illegal ; and urged the required confession, in order, as Philips says, " to save the bishop's credit." The further they advanced, the more difficult it was to recede ; and the bishop at length, irritated at his failure, concluded the process with an arbitrary sen tence of excomraunication. From this sentence, whether just or unjust, there was then no appeal, except to the pope. The wretched man, in virtue of it, was no longer under the protection of the law, and was committed to the Tower, where he languished for three Heisim- . , . /. • 1 1 prisoned years, protesting, but protesting fruitlessly, unconvict*! against the tyranny which had crushed him, years. and clamouring for justice in the deaf ears of pedants who knew not what justice raeant. If this had occurred at the beginning of the century, the prisoner would have been left to die, as countless multitudes had already died, unheard, uncared for, nn- thought of; the victira not of deliberate cruelty, but of that frightfuUest portent, folly armed with power. Happily the years of his imprisonment had He appeals been years of swift revolution. The House te^f^^ of Commons had become a tribunal where and^^vew oppression would not any longer cry whoUy '"' '"'"'''y- unheard ; PhiUps appealed to if for protection, and re covered his liberty,^ 1 Foxe, VoL V. pp. 29, 30. ' 2 The circumstances are curious. Philips begged that he might have the benefit of the king's writ of corpus cum causa, and be brought to the bar of the House of Commons, where the Bishop of London should be BubpoBuaed to meet him. [Petition of Thomas Philips : Rolls House J/S.] The Commons did not venture on so strong a measure; but a digest ofthe petition was sent to Ihe Upper House, that the bishop might have an op portunity of reply The Lords refused to receive or consider the ca««i 84 Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. [Ch. vi The weight of guilt in this instance presses essen- The Bishop tially on Stokesley ; yet a portion of the blame Jlnonsuite must be borne also by the chancellor, who first d°"TO^ but placed PhUips in Stokesley's hands ; who took MvereT'^ P^i'* i^i the illegal private examinations, and censurable, .^^j^q could not have been ignorant of the pris oner's ultimate fate. If, however, it be thought un just to charge a good man's raeraory with an offence in which his part was only secondary, the following in iquity was wholly and exclusively his own, I relate the story without comment in the address of the in jured person to More's successor,-' " To the Bight Hon. the Lord Chancellor of Eng- Oiseofjohn taud (^Str T. Audeley') and other of the King's "*'*¦ Council. " In most humble wise showeth unto your goodnesa they replied that it was too "frivolous an affair" for so grave an assembly, and that they could not discuss it. [Lords' Journals, Vol. I. p. 66.] A deputation of the Commons then waited privately upon the bishop, and being of course anxious to ascertain whether Philips had given a true ver sion of what had passed, they begged him to give some written explana tion of his conduct, which might be read in the Commons' House. [Jjords' Journals, Vol. I. p. 71.] The request was reasonable, and we cannot doubl that, if explanation had been possible, the bishop would not have failed U offer it; but he preferred to shield himself behind the judgment of th« Lords. The Lomis, he said, had decided that the matter was too irivolous for their own consideration ; and without their permission, he might no' »et a precedent of responsibility to the Commons by answering their ques tions. This conduct met with the unanimous approvsd of the Peers. {Lords' Jownals, Vol. I. p. 71. Omnes proceres tam spirituales quam tempo- rales una voce dicebant, quod non consentaneum fuit aliquem procerum prsedictorura alicui in eo loco lesponsurum.] The demand for explanation was treated as a breach of privUege, and the bishop was allowed to remair silent. But the time was passed for conduct of this kind to be allowed to triumph. If the bishop could not or would not justify himself, his victim wight at least be released from unjust imprisonment. The case was referred to the king and by the king and the House of Commons Philips was set at liberty. 1 Petition of John Field: RoUs House MS 1630.] Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. 85 your poor bedeman John Field, how that the next mor row upon twelfth day,' in the twenty-first year of our sovereign lord the King's Highness, Sir Thomas More, Knight, then being Lord Chancellor of England, did send certain of his servants, and caused your said bede man, with certain others, to be brought to his place at Chelsea, and there kept him (after what manner and fashion it were now long to tell), by the space of eigh- tetm days;^ and then set hira at liberty, binding him to appear before him again the eighth day following in the Star Chamber, which was Candlemas eve ; at which day your said bedeman appeared, and was then sent to the Fleet, where he continued until Palm Sun day two years after, [in violation of both the niegaiiy hn- T, iin 1 prisoned by statiites,J kept so close the first quarter that More. his keeper only might visit him ; and always after closed up with those that were handled most straitly ; often searched, sometiraes even at midnight ; besides snares and traps laid to take him in. Betwixt Mich aelmas and AUhalloween tide next after his coming to prison there was taken from your bedeman a Greek vo cabulary, price five shUlings ; Saint Cyprian's works, with a book of the same Sir Thomas More's making, named the Supplication of Souls. For what cause it was done he committeth to the judgment of God, that seeth the souls of all persons. The said Palm Sunday, which was also our Lady's day, towards night there came two officers of the Fleet, named George Porter and John Butler, and took your bedeman into a ward alone, and there, after long searching, found his purse hanging at his girdle ; which they took, and shook out the money to the sum of ten shiUings, which was sent him to buy such necessaries as he lacked, and delivered 3 Ja-. 1529-31). "^ Illegal. See 2 Hen. V. Stat. 2, 86 Sir Thomas More jis Chancellor. [Ch. vi him again his p'orse, well and truly keeping the money to theraselves, as they said for their fees ; and forth' with carried him from the Fleet (where he lost such poor bedding as he then had, and could never since get it), and delivered him to the Marshalsea, under our gracious sovereign's commandment and Sir Thomas More's, When the Sunday before the Rogation week following, your bedeman fell sick ; and the Whitsun Monday was carried out on four men's backs, and de Uvered to his friends to be recovered if it so pleased God, At which time the keeper took for your bede- man's fees other ten shillings, when four shiUings should have sufficed if he had been deUvered in good health, " Within three weeks it pleased God to set your bedeman on his feet, so that he might walk abroad. Whereof when Sir Thomas More heard (who went out of his chancellorship about the tirae your bedeman was carried out of prison), 'although he had neither word nor deed which he could ever truly lay to your bedeman's charge, yet made he such means by the Bishops of Winchester and London, as your bedeman heard say, to the Hon, Lord Thomas Duke of Norfolk, that he gave new commandment to the keeper of the Marshalsea to attach again your said bedeman ; which thing was speedUy done the Sunday three weeks after his deliverance. And so he continued in prison again until Saint Lawrence tide foUowing ; at which time money was given to the keeper, and some things he took which were not given, and then was your bede man re-delivered through the king's goodness, under sureties bound in a certain sum, that he should appear the first day of the next term following, and theh day by day until his dismission. And so hath your bede- 1630.] Sir Thomas More as Chancellor. 87 man been at Uberty now twelve months waiting daily from term to term, and nothing laid to his charge aa before, " Wherefore, the premises tenderly considered, and also your said bedeman's great poverty, he most hum bly beseecheth your goodness that he may now be clearly discharged ; and if books, money, or other things seem to be taken or kept from him otherwise than justice would, eftsoons he beseecheth you that ye will comman(fl it to be restored, " As for his long imprisonment, with other griefs thereto appertaining, he looketh not to have recom pense of man ; but committeth his whole cause to God, to whom your bedeman shall daily pray, according as he is bound, that ye may so order and govern the realm thatit maybe to the honour of God and your heavenly and everlasting reward," I do not find the result of this petition, but as it ap peared that Henry had interested himself in the story, it is Ukely to have been successful. We can form but an imperfect judgment on the raerits of the case, for we have only the sufferer's ex parte complaint, and More might probably have been able to make some counter-statement. But the illegal imprisonment can not be explained away, and cannot be palliated ; and when a judge permits himself to commit an act of ar bitrary tyranny, we argue from the known to the un known, and refuse reasonably to give him credit for equity where he was so little careful of law. Yet a few years of misery in a prison was but an insignificant misfortune when compared with the fate under which so many other poor men were at this time overwhelmed. Under Wolsey's chancellorship the stake had been comparatively idle ; he possessed 88 Contrast between Wolsey and More. [Ch. vi a remarkable power of making recantation easy ; and Contrast be- there is, I believe, no instance in which an sr^lncT"'' accused heretic was brought under his im- teeatment'of mediate cognizance, where he failed to ar- heretics. range some terms by which submission was made possible. With Wolsey heresy was an error — The Smith- with Morc it was a crime. Soon after the commence, seals changed hands the Smithfield fires re commenced ; and, the chancellor acting in concert with thera, the bishops resolved to obliterate, in these edifying spectacles, the recollection of their general infirmities. The crime of the offenders varied, — sometimes it was a denial of the corporal presence, more often it was a reflection too loud to be endured on the character and habits of the clergy ; but what ever it was, the alternative lay only between abjura^ tion humiliating as ingenuity could make it, or a dread ful death. The hearts of many failed them in the trial, and of all the confessors those perhaps do not deserve the least compassion whose weakness betrayed them, who sank and died broken-hearted. Of these silent sufferers history knows nothing, A few, imable to endure the misery of having, as they supposed, denied their Saviour, returned to the danger from which they had fled, and washed out their fall in martyrdom, Lat- Troubics of imer has told us the story of his friend Bilney Bilney. _ Uttie BUucy, or Saint Bilney,^ as he calls him, his companion at Cambridge, to whom he owed his own conversion, Bilney, after escaping through Wolsey's hands in 1527, was again cited in 1529 he-- fore the Bishop of London, Three times he refused to recant. He was offered a fourth and last chance. 1 Seventh Sermon before King Edward. First Sermon before the Duch. UB of Suffolk. 1630.] Martyrdom of Bilney. 89 The temptation was too strong, and he fell. For two years he was hopelessly miserable ; at length , his braver nature prevailed. There was no pardon for a relapsed heretic, and if he was again in the bishop's hands he knew well the fate which awaited him. He told his friends, in language touchingly signifi cant, that " he would go up to Jerusalem " ; He"gnesii» and began to preach in the fields. The jour- icm." ney which he had undertaken was not to be a long one. He was heard to say in a sermon, that of his personal knowledge certain things which had been offered in pilgrimage had been given to abandoned women. The priests, he affirmed, " take away the offerings, and hang them about their women's necks ; and after that they take them off the women, if they please them not, and hang them again upon the images," ^ This was Bilney's heresy, or formed the ground of his arrest ; he was orthodox on the mass, and also on the power of the keys ; but the secrets of the sacr^id order were not to be betrayed with impunity. He was seized, and hurried before the Bishop of Norwich ; and being found heterodox on the papacy and the mediation of the saints, by the Bishop of Norwich he was sent to the stake. Another instance of recovered courage, and of mar tyrdom consequent upon it, is that of James jamesBain- Bainham, a barrister of the Middle Temple, '""' This story is noticeable frora a very curious cii cum stance connected with it, Bainham had challenged suspicion by marrying the widow of Simon Fish, the author of the famous Beg gars' Petition, who had died in 1528 ; and, soon after his marriage, was challenged to give an account of his 1 Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 649. 90 Martyrdom of James Bainham. [Ch. vi, faith. He was charged with denying transubstantia- tion, with questioning the value of the confessional, and the power of the keys ; and the absence of author^ itative Protestant dogma had left his mind free to ex- The latitu- pand to a yet larger belief. He had ventured martyr. to assert, that " if a Turk, a Jew, or a Sara cen do trust in God and keep his law, he is a good Christian man," ' — a conception of Christianity, a conception of Protestantism, which we but feebly dare to whisper even at the present day. The proceedings against hira commenced with a demand that he should give up his books, and also the names of other bar risters with whom he was suspected to have held inter course. He refused ; and in consequence his wife was iraprisoned, and he himself was racked in the Tower by order of Sir Thomas More, Enfeebled by suffer ing, he was then brought before Stokesley, and terri fied by the cold merciless eyes of his judge, he gave way, not about his friends, but about himself: he ab- On his flrst jurcd, and was dismissed heartbroken. This trial he re- , ^ _, , cants. -was OU the seventeenth of February, He was only able to endure his wretchedness for a month, A-t the end of it, he appeared at a secret meeting of the Christian Brothers, in " a warehouse in Bow Lane," where he asked forgiveness of God and aU the world for what he had done ; and then went out to take again upon his shoulders the heavy burden of the cross. The foUowing Sunday, at the church of St, Angus- He recovers iT-^AQ, he rosc iu his seat with the fatal English Us Murage, Testament in his hand, and " declared openly, before all the people, with weeping tears, that he had denied God," praying them all to forgive him, and ' Ai-ticles against James Bainham: Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 703. 1631-32.] Martyrdom of James Bainham. 01 beware of his weakness ; " for if I should not return to the truth," he said, " this Word of God would damn me, body and soul, at the day of judgment," And then he prayed " everybody rather to die than to do as he did, for he would not feel such a heU again as he did feel for all the world's good," ^ Of course but one event was to be looked for ; he knew it, and himself wrote to the bishop, tell- ^^^ ^ „. ing him what he had done. No raercy was ''«''ed again. possible : he looked for none, and he found none. Yet perhaps he found what the wise authorities thought to be sorae act of raercy. They The mercy could not grant hira pardon in this world "hurch au- upon any terms ; but they would not kill him "'""''^s- till they had made an effort for his soul. He was taken to the Bishop of London's coal-cellar at Fulham, the favourite episcopal penance-chamber, where he was ironed and put in the stocks ; and there was left for many days, in the chill March weather, to bethink himself. This failing to work conviction, he was car ried to Sir Thomas More's house at Chelsea, where for two nights he was chained to a post and whipped ; thence, again, he was taken back to Fulham for another week of torture ; and finally to the Tower, for a further fortnight, again with ineffectual whip pings. The deraands of charity were thus satisfied. The pious bishop and the learned chancellor had exhausted their means of conversion ; they had discharged thtir consciences ; and the law was allowed to take its course. The prisoner was brought to trial on the 20th of April, as a relapsed heretic. Sentence followed; iieisbumf, , April 20, and on the last of the month the draraa issa. I Foxe, Vol. IT. p. 702. 92 Feelings of the People. [c».vt closed in the usual manner at Smithfield, Before the fire was lighted Bainham made a farewell address to the people, laying his death expressly to More, whom he called his accuser and his judge,^ It is unfortunately impossible to learn the feelings The feelings ^"^'i'^ wliich thcsc drcadfiil scenes were wit- uiesel^c? nessed by the people. There are stories which Se8.^d by show tliat, in sorae instances, famiUarity had the people, produced the usual effect ; that the martyr dom of saints was at tiraes of no more moment to an English crowd than the execution of ordinary felons, — that it was a mere spectacle to the idle, the hardened, and the curious. On the other hand, it is certain that the behaviour of the sufferers was the argument which at last converted the nation ; and an effect which in the end was so powerful with the multitude must have been visible long before in the braver and better na tures. The increasing number of prosecutions in Lon don shows, also, that the leaven was spreading. There were five executions in Smithfield between 1529 and 1533, besides those in the provinces. The prisons were crowded with offenders who had abjured and were undergoing sentence ; and the list of those who were " troubled " in various ways is so extensive, as to leave no doubt of the sympathy which, in London at least, must have been felt by many, very many, of the spectators of the martyrs' deaths. We are left, in this important point, mainly to conjecture ; and if we were better furnished with evidence, the language of ordinary narrative would faU to convey any real notion of per plexed and various emotions. We have glimpses, how ever, into the inner world of men, here and there of strange interest ; and we must regret that they are so few. 1 Foxe, Vol, IV. p. 706, 1632.1 Pavier the Town Clerk. 93 A poor boy at Cambridge, John Randall, of Christ's CoUege, a relation of Foxe the martyrologist, suicide ofa destroyed himself in these years in religious bridge. desperation ; he was found in his study hanging by his girdle, before an open Bible, with his dead arm and finger stretched pitifully towards a passage on m-edes tiftition,! A story even more remarkable is connected ,vith Bainham's execution. Among the lay offi- pavicr, the cials present at the stake, was " one Pavier," of™ndon, town clerk of London, This Pavier was a himseff.'uT Catholic fanatic, and as the flames were about circuiS^°^° to be kindled he burst out into violent and abusive language. The fire blazed up, and the dying sufferer, as the red flickering tongues licked the flesh from off his bones, turned to him and said, " May God forgive thee, and shew more raercy than thou, angry reviler, shew.est to me," The scene was soon over ; the town clerk went home, A week after, one morning when his wife had gone to mass, he sent all his servants out of his house on one pretext or another, a single girl only being left, and he withdrew to a garret at the top of the house, which he used as an oratory, A large crucifix was on the wall, and the girl having some ques tion to ask, went to the room, and found him standing before it " bitterly weeping," He told her to take his sword, which was rusty, and clean it. She went away and left him ; when she returned, a little time after, he was hanging from a beam, dead. He was a singular person, Edward HaU, the historian, knew him, and had heard him say, that " if the king put forth the NeT7 Testament in English, he would not live to bear it." ^ And yet he could not bear to see a heretic die. i Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 694. 2 HaU, p. 806; and see Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 705. 94 The Worship of Belies. [Ch. n What was it ? Had the meaning of that awful figure hanging on the torturing cross suddenly isvealed it self? Had some inner voice asked him whether, in the prayer for his persecutors with which Christ had parted out of life, there might be some affinity with words which had lately sounded in his own ears? God, into whose hands he threw hiraself, self-condemned in his wretchedness, only knows the agony of that hour. Let the secret rest where it lies, and let us be thankfiil for o'lrselves that we live in a changed world. Thus, however, the struggle went forward ; a for lorn hope of saints led the way up the breach, and paved with their bodies a broad road into the new era; and the nation the meanwhile was unconsciously waiting till the works of the enemy were won, and they could The two walk safely in and take possession. While martyrs. men like BUney and Bainham were teaching with words and writings, there were stout English hearts labouring also on the practical side of the same conflict, instilling the same lessons, and meeting for themselves the same consequences. Speculative su perstition was to be met with speculative denial. Practical idolatry required a rougher raethod of disen- chantraent. Every monastery, every parish church, had in those The worship days its Special relics, its special images, its itsorigii Special something, to attract the interest of and in its r ^ abuse. the people. The reverence for the remains of noble and pious men, the dresses which they had worn, or the bodies in which their spirits had lived, was in itself a natural and pious emotion ; but it had been petrified into a dogma ; and like every other im aginative feeling which is submitted to that bad process, it had become a falsehood, a mere superstition, a suh* 1532.1 Boods and Belies. 95 Btitute for piety, not a stimulus to it, and a perpetual occasion of fraud. The people brought offerings to the shrines where it was supposed that the relics were of greatest potency. The clergy, to secure the offerings, invented the relics, and invented the stories of the wonders which had been worked by them. The great est exposure of these things took place at the visitation of the religious houses. In the meantime. Bishop -o* 1 Ol 5 . f. Shaxton's Bishop Bhaxton s unsavoury inventory or inventory what passed under the name of relics in the diocese of Salisbury, will furnish an adequate notion of these ob jects of popular veneration. There "be set forth and commended unto the ignorant people," he said, " as I myself of certain which be already come to my hands, have perfect knowledge, stinking boots, mucky combes, ragged rochettes, rotten girdles, pyl'd purses, great bul locks' horns, locks of hair, and filthy rags, gobbetts of wood, under the narae of parcels of the holy cross, and such pelfry beyond estiraation," ^ Besides mat ters 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 The won.ier- grow uncertain, however, to sceptical Protes- roods. tants ; and from doubt to denial, and from denial to pasnionate hatred, there were but a few brief steps, The most famous of the roods was that of Therodi >f Boxley in Kent, which used to smUe and '""'''^' bow, or frown and shake its head, as its worsliippeia were generous or closehanded. The fortunes and mis fortunes of this image I shall by and bye have to relate. There was another, however, at Dovercourt, The rood or in Suffolk, of scarcely inferior fame. This i Instmcti-ms given by the Bishop of Salisbury: Burnet's Collectanea. p. 493. 96 The Rood of Dovercourt. [Ch. vi, image was of such power that the door of the church in which it stood was open at all hours to all comers, and no huraan hand could close it. Dovercourt there fore became a place of great and lucrative pilgrimage, much resorted to by the neighbours on all occasions of difficulty. Not, it happened that within the circuit of a few Its powers miles there Uved four young men, to whom mitted'to the virtues of the rood had become greatly trial, questionable. If it could work miracles, it uust be capable, so they thought, of protecting its own substance ; and they agreed to apply a practical test which would determine the extent of its abilities. Ac cordingly (about the time of Bainham's first imprison ment), Robert KiYig of Dedham, Robert Debenham of Eastbergholt, Nicholas Marsh of Dedham, and Robert Gardiner of Dedham, " their consciences being bur dened to see the honour of Almighty God so blas phemed by such an idol," started off " on a wondrous goodly night" in February, with hard frost and a clear full raoon, ten railes across the wolds, to the church. The door was open as the legend declared ; hut And are nothing dauutcd, they entered bravely, and eq" a? to'the lining dowu the " idol " from its shrine, with emergency. j(.g ^.^g^j. ^^^ shoes, and the storc of tapers which were kept for the services, they carried it on their shoulders for a quarter of a mile from the place where it had stood, " without any resistance of the said idol." There setting it on the ground, they struck a Ught, fastened the tapers to the body, and with the The rood is ^^^'p of them, sacrilcgiously burnt the image burnt. down to a heap of ashes ; the old dry wood " blazing so briraly," that it Ughted them a fuU mils of their way home.^ 1 From a Letter of Robert Gardiner: Foxe, Vol. IV. p. 706. 1B32.] The Paladins. 97 For this night's perforraance, which, if the devU is the father of lies, was a stroke of honest work against him and his family, the world rewarded these men after the usual fashion. One of them, Robert Gardiner, es caped the search which was made, and disappeared till better times ; the remaining three were Execution swinging in chains six months later on the J^e'li^pe- scene of their exploit. Their fate was per- ^'"¦^^^ haps inevitable. Men who dare to be the first in great movements are ever self-imraolated victims. But I suppose that it was better for them to be bleaching on their gibbets, than crawling at the feet of a wooden rood, and beheving it to be God, These were the first Paladins of the Reformation , the knights who slew the dragons and the TheProtes- enchanters, and made the earth habitable for dins. common flesh and blood. They were rarely, as we have said, men of great ability, still raore rarely men of " wealth and station " ; but men rather of clear senses and honest hearts, Tyndal was a remarkable person, and so Clark and Frith promised to become ; but the two last were cut off before they had found scope to show themselves ; and Tyndal remaining abroad, lay outside the battle which was being fought in England, doing noble work, indeed, and ending as the rest ended, with earning a martyr's crown ; but taking no part in the actual struggle except with his pen. As yet but two men of the highest The*© ^ •/ , 1 i> Tl greatest men order of power were on the side of Protes- on the side 11 r\c 1_ oftheRefor- tantism — Latimer and Cromwell, Ot them mation. we have already said something ; but the time was now fast coming when they were to step forward, pressed by circumstances which could no longer dispense with 98 Early Life of Latimer. [Cm, Tt them, into scenes of far wider activity; and the present seems a fitting occasion to give sorae closer account of their history. When the breach with the pope was made irreparable, and the papal party at home had assuraed an attitude of suspended insurrection, the for tunes of the Protestants entered into a new phase. The persecution ceased ; and those who but lately were carrying fagots in the streets, or hiding for their lives, Theap- passcd at once by a sudden alternation into «'?SS?4 ttie sunshine of pohtical favour. The sum- Jrtdc'hwM^ mer was but a brief one, foUowed soon hy made ofit. returning winter ; but Cromwell and Latimer -had together caught the moment as it went by ; and before it was over, a work had been done in England which, when it was accomplished once, was accom plished for ever. The conservative party recovered their power, and abused it as before ; but the chains of the nation were broken, and no craft of kings or priests or statesmen could weld the magic links again. It is a pity that of two persons to whom England owes so deep a debt, we can piece together such scanty biographies, I must attempt, however, to give some outline of the little which is known. The father of Latimer was a solid EngUsh yeoman^ The femiiy of Thurcaston, in Leicestershire, " He had Latuner. no lauds of his own," but he rented a farm His father a _ _ i i i ,, i . i i Leicester- " ot tour pounds Dy the year, on which " ue Bhireyeo- .,, , , , ', ,/> -, i> man. tilled SO much as kept halt a dozen men ; " he had walk for a hundred sheep, and meadow ground for thirty cows," ^ The world prospered with him ; he was able to save money for his son's educa tion and his daughters' portions ; but he was free handed and hospitable ; he kept open house for his 1 Latimer's Sermons, p. 101. 1632.] Early Ufe of Latimer. 99 poor neighbours ; and he was a good citizen, too, for " he did find the king a harness with himself and his horse," ready to do battle for his country, if occasion called. His faraily were brought up " in godUness and the fear of the Lord ; " and in all points the old Lati mer seems to have been a worthy, sound, upright man, of the true EngUsh mettle. There were several children, ^ The Reformer was born about 1490, some five years after the The Reform- usurper Richard had been killed at Bos- about 1490, worth, Bosworth being no great distance from Thur caston, Latimer the father is likely to have been pres ent in the battle, on one side or the other, — the right side in those times it was no easy raatter to choose, — but he became a good servant of the new government, — and the Uttle Hugh, when a boy of seven years old, helped to buckle ^ on his armour for hira, " when he went to Blackheath field," ^ Being a sol- Andbrought dier himself, the old gentleman was careful farmhouse , -I . -, as * brave to give his sons, whatever else he gave them, English boy. a sound soldier's training, "He was diUgent," says Latimer, " to teach rae to shoot with the bow : he taught me how to draw, how to lay my body in the bow — not to draw with strength of arm, as other na tions do, but with the strength of the body, I had my bows bought me according to my age and strength ; as I increased in these, my bows were made bigger and bigger," * Under this education, and in the whole some atmosphere of the farmhouse, the boy prospfered weU ; and by and bye, showing signs of promise, he 1 Latimer speaks of sons and daughters. — Sermons, p. 101. 2 Ibid. ' « Where the Comish rebels came to an end in 1497. — Bacon's Bi$lort rfMenry the Seventh. * Latimer's Sermons, p. 197 100 He goes to Cambridge. [Ch. Vj, was sent to school. When he was fourteen, the prom- H« goes to ises so far having been fulfiUed, his father Cambridge, transferred him to Cambridge,' He was soon known at the university as a sober, Is elected liard-workiug student. At nineteen, he was c to hIu, elected fellow of Clare HaU ; at twenty, he took a"^YiSt™°° ^^^ degree, and became a student in divinity, student. -when he accepted quietly, like a sensible man, the doctrines which he had been brought up to believe. At the time when Henry VIII, was writing against Luther, Latimer was fleshing his maiden sword in an Converted attack upoii Mclancthon ; ^ and he remained, shadow of he Said, till he was thirty, " in darkness and death" by Bilney. the shadow of death," About this time he became acquainted with BUney, whom he calls " the instrument whereby God called him to knowledge." In Bilney, doubtless, he found a sound instructor ; Sources of ^ut a carcful reader of his sermons will see kno'^iedge, traces of a teaching for which he was in- inhis'Mr-"* debted to no human master. His deepest mons. knowledge was that which stole upon him un- 1 On which occasion, old relations perhaps shook their heads, and made objection to the expense. Some such feeling is indicated in the following glimpse behind the veil of Latimer's private histoiy: — " I was once called to one of my kinsfolk," he says (" it was at that time when I had taken my degree at Cambridge) ; 1 was called, I say, to one of my kinsfolk which was very sick, and died immediately after my coming. Now, there was an old cousin of mine, which, after the man was dead, gave me a wax candle in my hand, and commanded me to make certain crosses over him that was dead; for she thought the devil should run away by and bye. Now, I took the candle, but I could not cross him as she would have me to do ; for I had never seen it before. She, perceiving I could not do it, with great anger took the candle out of my hand, saymg, It is pity that thy father spendeth so much money upon thee ; ' and so she took the candle, and crossed and blessed him; so that he iras sure enough." — Latimer's Se-rmons, p. 499. ^ " I was as obstinate a papist as any was in England, insomuch that, when I should be made Bachelor of Divinity, my whole oration went ¦gainst Philip Melancthon and his opinions." — Latimer's Sermons, p. 334. iW8-] Latimer's Education. 101 consciously through the experience of life and the world. His words are Uke the clear impression of a seal ; the account and the result of observations, taken first hand, on the condition of the English men and women of his tirae, in all ranks and classes, from the palace to the prison. He shows large acquaintance with books; with the Bible, most of all ; with patristic divinity and school divinity ; and history, sacred and profane : but if this had been all, he would not have been the Lati mer of the Reformation, and the Church of England would not, perhaps, have been here to-day. Like the physician, to whom a year of practical experience in a hospital teaches more than a life of closet study, Lati mer learnt the mental disorders of his age in the age itself; and the secret of that art no other man, how ever good, however wise, could have taught him. He was not an echo, but a voice ; and he drew his thoughts fresh from the fountain — from the facts of the era in which God had placed him. He became early famous as a preacher at Cam bridge, from the first, "a seditious feUow," His early 1 1 1 Tpi'ii reputation as a noble lord called him in later life, highly as a preacher , , at Cam- troublesome to unjust persons m authority, bridge. " None, except the stiff-necked and uncfrcumcised, ever went away from his preaching, it was said, with out being affected with high detestation of sin, and moved to all godliness and virtue," ^ And, in his au dacious simplicity, he addressed hiraself al- Personal ways to his mdividual hearers, giving his words ofST^- » personal application, and often addressing *'^*^'- men by name. This habit brought him first into dif ficulty in 1525. He was preaching before the univer- 1 Jewel of Joy, p. 224, et seq. : Parker Society's edition. Latimer's Ber inoiu, p. 3. 102 His Fame as a Preacher. [Ch. ti sity, when the Bishop of Ely came into the chrareh, be ne otfends ing curious to hear him. He paused till tha o.'Eiy. bishop was seated; and when he recom menced, he changed his subject, and drew an ideal pic ture of a prelate as a prelate ought to be ; the features of which, though he did not say so, were strikingly unUke those of his auditor. The bishop complained ta Wolsey, who sent for Latimer, and inqufred what he had said. Latimer repeated the substance of his ser mon ; and other conversation then foUowed, which showed Wolsey very clearly the nature of the person with whom he was speaking. No eye saw more rap idly than the cardinal's the difference between a true man and an impostor ; and he repUed to the Bishop of Ely's accusations by granting the offender a licence Wolsey's to prfiach in any church in England. " If SeS.p?s° t^e Bishop of Ely cannot abide such doctrine complaint. ^ ^^^ j^^^.^.^ j^g^.^ j-epcatcd," hc said, " you shall preach it to his beard, let him say what he wm,"i Thus fortified, Latimer pursued his way, careless of Pracaoai the University authorities, and probably defi- Sto^"* a.nt of them. He was still orthodox in points ^55^^* of theoretic heUef. His mind was practical spSuiattve rather than speculative, and he was slow in difflcuities. aj-riving at conclusions wiiich had no immedi ate bearing upon action. No charge could be fastened upon him, definitely criminal; and he was too strong to be crushed by that compendious tyranny which treated as an act of heresy the exposure of imposture or delinquency. On Wolsey's fiill, however, he would have certainly been sUenced : if he had faUen into the hands of Sir 1 Latimer's Re-mains, pp. 27-31, HBO.] He is appointed Chaplain to the King. 103 Thomas More, he would have perhaps been prematurely sacrificed. But, fortunately, he found a fresh On woisey's prote^-tor in the king, Henry heard of him, appomted f , ,,,,.. royal chap- sent tor aim, and, with instinctive recog- lain. nition ol bis character, appointed him one of the royal chaplains. He now left Cambridge and removed to Windsor, but only to treat his royal patron as freely as he had treated the Cambridge doctors, — not with any absence of respect, for he was most respectfiil, but with that highest respect which dares to speak unwel come truth where the truth seems to be forgotten. He was made chaplain in 1530 — during the new persecu tion, for which Henry was responsible by a more than tacit acquiescence. Latimer, with no author- Latimer ad- ity but his own conscience, and the strong Henry in be • -11 A 1) -1 1 half of the certainty that he was on God s side, threw Protestants. himself between the spoilers and their prey, and wrote to the king, protesting against the injustice which was crushing the truest men in his dominions. The letter is too long to insert ; the close of it may show how a poor priest could dare to address the imperious Henry VIII. : " I pray to God that your Grace may ta,ke heed of the worldly wisdom which is foolishness before God ; that you may do that [which] God commandeth, and not that [which] seemeth good in your own sight, with out the word of God ; that your Grace may be found acceptable in his sight, and one of the raembers of his church ; and according to the ofiice that he hath caUed your Grace imto, you may be found a faithfiil minister of his gifts, and not a defender of his faith : for he wiU not have it defended by man or man's power, but by his wor4 only, by the which he hath evermore de fended it, and that by a way far above man's power oT reason. 104 His Defence of the ProUstants. [Ch vl " Wherefore, gracious king, remember yourself; have pity upon your soul ; and think that the day is even at hand when you shall give account for your office, and of the blood that hath been shed by your sword. In which day, that your Grace may stand steadfastly, and not be ashamed, but be clear and ready in your reckoning, and have (as they say), your quietm est sealed with the blood of our Saviour Christ, which only serveth at that day, is ray daily prayer to Him that suffered death for our sins, which also prayeth to liis Father for grace for us continuaUy ; to whom be all honour and praise for ever. Amen, The Spirit of God preserve your Grace," ^ These words, which conclude an address of almost Hisinterces- unexampled grandeur, are unfortunately of sion was in- , ,-,,,, effectual, no mtcrcst to US, except as illustrating the character of the priest who wrote them, and the king to whom they were written. The hand of the perse cutor was not stayed. The rack and the lash and the stake continued to claim their victims. So far it was labour in vain. But the letter remains, to speak for ever for the courage of Latimer ; and to speak some thing, too, for a prince that could respect the nobleness of the poor yeoman's son, who dared in such a cause to write to him as a man to a raan. To have written at all in such a strain was as brave a step as was ever But earned deliberately ventured. Like most brave acts, re|i°do?the it (lid not go unrewarded ; for Henry re- "''^' mained ever after, however widely divided fi-om him in opinion, his unshaken friend. In 1531, the king gave him the living of West Kingston, in WUtshfre, where for a time he now retired. Yet it was but a partial rest. He had a I Latimer's Remains, pp. 303-9. 1630.] He is cited before the Bishops. 106 special licence as a preacher from Cambridge, which continued to him (with the king's express He retires sanction) ^ the powers which he had re- *^°^^^ ceived from Wolsey, He might preach in tonfbut'*'^ any diocese to which he was invited; and ^i^ylbout the repose of a country parish could not be "^^ country. long allowed in such stormy times to Latimer, He had bad health, being troubled with headache, pleurisy, coUc, stone ; his bodily constitution meeting feebly the de^mands which he was forced to raake upon it,^ But he struggled on, traveUing up and down to London, to Kent, to Bristol, wherever opportunity called him ; marked for destruction by the bishops, if he was be trayed into an iraprudent word, and himself Uving in constant expectation of death,^ At length the Bishop of London believed that Lati mer was in his power. He had preached at St, Abb's, in the city, " at the request of a company of mer chants," * in the beginning of the winter of 1531 ; and soon after his return to his Uving, he was in- He is cited formed that he was to be cited before Stokes- stokesley, ley. His firiends in the neighbourhood wrote to him, evidently in great alarra, and more anxious that he might clear himself than expecting that he And expects would be able to do so ; ^ he himself, indeed, *'*"'¦ had almost made up his mind that the end was com ing,^ i Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton: Letters, p. 329, * 2 Letters, p. 323. * He thought of going abroad. " I have trust that God will help me," he -wrote to a friend ; " if I had not, I think the ocean sea should hav< divided my Lord of London aud me by this day." — Remains, p. 334. * Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton. » See Latimer's two letters to Sir Edward Baynton : Remain*, pp. (32-351. • " As ye say, the matter is weighty, and ought substantially to h* 106 Latimer before the Bishops. [Ch. VI The citation was delayed for a few weeks. It was issued at last, on the 10th of January, annary 1531—2,1 ^nd was Served by Sir Walter Hun- gerford, of Farley,^ The offences with which he was charged were certain " excesses and irregularities^' Method of not specially defined ; and the practice of the in cases ol bishops in such cases was not to confine the suspected , , , -, . Miesy. prosecution to the acts committed, 6ut to draw up a series of articles, on which it was presumed that the orthodoxy of the accused person was open to suspicion, and to question him separately upon each. Latimer was first examined by Stokesley ; subse- ihe charge qucntly at various times bythe bishops col- mer sub- Icctively ; and finally, when certain formulas convocation, had bceu Submitted to him, which he refiised to sign, his case was transferred to convocation. The convocation, as we know, were then in difficulty with their preraunfre ; they had consoled themselves m their sorrow with burning the body of Tracy; and they would gladly have taken fiirther comfort by burning Latimer,* He was submitted to the closest looked upon, even as weighty as my life is worth ; but how to look sub stantially upon it otherwise know not I, than to pray my Lord God, day and night, that, ae he hath emboldened me to preach his truth, so he wSl strengthen me to suffer for it. " I pray you pardon me that I write no more distinctly, for my head is (so) out Of frame, that it would be too paSofiil for me to write it again. If 1 *>e not prevented shortly, I intend to make meny -with my parisbionejrs, ^is Christmas, for all the sorrow, lest perchance I never return to ihem again ; and 1 have heard say that a doe is as good in winter as a buck in •animer." — Latimer to Sir Edward Baynton, p. 334. ^ Latimer's Remains, p. 334. 2 Ibid. p. 350. * "I pray you, in God's name, what did you, so great fathers, so many, •0 long season, so oft assembled together? What went you about?" What would ye have brought to pass? Two things taken away — the one that ye (which I heard) burned a dead man, — the other, that ye (which I felt) went about to bum one being alive. Take away these twc noble acts, ¦and U»3l-32.] Latimer before the Bishops. 107 cross-questionmgs, in the hope that he would commit himself They felt that he was the most dangerous person to them in the kingdom, and they laboured with unusual patience to- ensure his conviction,^ With a common person they would have rapidly succeeded. But Latimer was in no haste to be a martyr ; he would be martyred patiently when the time was corae for martyrdom ; but he felt that no one ought " to consent to die," as long as he could honestly live ; ^ iheeflbrtsfcr and he baffied the ejiiscojDal inquisitors with tion baffled their own weapons. He has left a most cu- in reply. .rious account of one of his interviews with them, " I was once in examination," he says,* " before five or six bishops, where I had rauch turmoiling, Latimer be- T-, 1 1 , -T • . fore the tivery week, thnce, 1 came to examination, bishops. and many snares and traps were laid to get something. Now, God knoweth, I was ignorant of the law ; but that God gave me answer and wisdom what I should speak. It was God indeed, for else I had never es caped thera. At the last, I was brought forth to be examined into a chamber hanged with arras, where I was before wont to be examined, but now, at this time, the chamber was somewhat altered : for whereas be fore there was wont ever to be a fire in the chimney,* now the fire* was taken away, and an arras hanging hanged over the chimney ; and the table stood near the chimney's end, so that I stood between the table and there is nothing else left that ye went about that I know," &c. &c. — Ser mon preached before the Convocation: Latimer's Sermons, p. 46. 1 " My affair had some bounds assigned to it by him who sent for me up, but is now protracted by intricate and wily examinations, as if it would never find a period ; while sometimes one person, sometimes another, ask me questions, without limit and -vrithout end." — Latimer to the Archbishop of Canterbnr)' : Remains, p. 352. 2 Remains, p. 222. ' Sermons, p. 294. ? The Tirocess '-isted through January, February, and March. 108 Latimer before the Bishops. [Cavi the chimney's end. There was among these bishops that exarained rae one with whora I had been very familiar, and took him for ray great friend, an aged man, and he sate next the table end. Then, among all other questions, he put forth one, a very subtle and crafty one, and such one indeed as I could not tliiiik so great danger in. And when I would make answer, ' I pray you. Master Latimer,' said he, ' speak out ; I am very thick of hearing, and here be many ¦ that sit far off,' I marveUed at this, that I was bidden to speak out, and began to misdeem, and gave an ear to the chimney ; and, sir, there I heard a pen walking in the chiraney, behind the cloth. They had appointed one there to write all mine answers ; for they made sure work that I should not start from them : there was no starting from thera : God was my good Lord, and gave me answer ; I could never else have escaped it. The question was this : ' Master Latimer, do you not think, on your conscience, that you have been suspected of heresy ? ' — a subtle question — a very subtle question. There was no holding of peace would serve. To hold my peace had been to grant myself faulty. To answer was every way full of danger. But God, which hath always given me answer, helped me, or else I could never have escaped *it, OstendiU mihi nwmisma censils. Shew me, said he, a penny of the tribute money. They laid snares to destroy him, but he overturneth them in their own traps," ^ The bishops, however, were not men who were nice in their adherence to the laws ; and it would have gone ill with Latimer, notwithstanding his dialectic ability. He was excoramunicated and iraprisoned, and would soon have fallen into worse extremities ; but ' Sermons, p. 294. 1631-32.] Thomas Cromwell. 109 at the last moment he appealed to the kiijg, and the krag, who knew his value, would not allow him He appeals to be sacrificed. He had refused to sub- and is saved. scribe the articles proposed to him.^ Henry intimated to the convocation that it was not his pleasure that the matter should be pressed further ; they were to content tliemselves with a general submission, which should be made to the archbishop, without exacting more special acknowledgments. This was the reward to Latimer for his noble letter. He was absolved, and returned to his parish, though snatched as a brand out of the fire. Soon after, the tide turned, and the Reformation en tered into a new phase. Such is a brief sketch of the life of Hugh Latimer, to the time when it blended with the broad stream of English history. With respect to the other very great man whom the exigencies of the state called to power simultaneously with hira, our information is far less satisfactory. Though our knowledge of Latimer's early story comes to us in fragments only, yet there are cer tain marks in it by which the outline can be determined with certainty, A cloud rests over the youth and early manhood of Thoraas CromweU, through which, Thomas only at intervals, we catch glimpses of authen- *'™"'™"- tic facts ; and these few fragments of reaUty seem rather to belong to a romance than to the actual Ufe of a man. Cromwell, the malleus monachorura, was of gocd English family, belonging to the Crorawells ^'Jft^e' of Lincolnshire, One of these, probably a ^jLhiMin. younger brother, moved up to London and j^riyl'""' ' lie subscribed all except two — one apparently on the power of the pope, the other I am unable to conjecture. Compare the Articles them selves — printed in Latimer's Remains, p. 466 — with the Sermon before the Convocation. — -Sermons, p. 46 ; and Burnet, Vol. III. p. 116. 110 Thomas Cromwell. i[Cs, Vl conducted an ironfoundry, or other business of that description, at Putney, He married a lady of re spectable connexions, of whom we know only that she was sister of the wife of a gentleman in Derby- slifre, but whose name does not appear,^ The old His mother CromweU dying early, the widow was re- and her so'n married to a cloth-merchant ; and the child »agaboni. of the first husbaud, who made himself so great a name in EngUsh story, met with the reputed fortune of a stepson, and became a vagabond in the wide world. The chart of his course whoUy faUs us. One day in later life he shook by the hand an old beU- ringer at Sion House before a crowd of courtiers, and told them that " this man's father had given him many wiidjtour ^ dinner in his necessities." And a strange ney'to°"' raudom account is given by Foxe of his hav- Eome. jjjg joined a party in an expedition to Rome to obtain a renewal from the pope of certain immuni ties and indulgences for the town of Boston ; a story which derives sorae kind of credibiUty from its connex ion with Lincolnshire, but is full of incoherence and un likelihood. FoUowing still the popular legend, we find His Italian ^'"^ i" *^® autumu of 1515 a ragged stripling .wanderings. ^^ jj^g j^qj, ^f Frcscobaldi's bauking-house in Florence, begging for help, Frescobaldi had an es tablishment in London^^ with a large connexion there ; rhe Fioren- ^"^^ Seeing an EngUsh face, and seemingly an tine banker. jjQnest OUO, he askcd the boy who and what he was, " I am, sir," quoth he, " of England, and my name is Thomas Cromwell ; my father is a poor man, and by occupation a clothshearer ; I am strayed 1 Nicholas Glossop to CromweU: Ellis, third aeries, VoL II, p. 237. ' Where he was known among the English of the day as Master Frisky DaU. i»B5J Thomaa Crommell. Ill ifrcffld my country, and am now come into Italy with the camp of Frenchmen tha.t were overthrown at GarigU- ano, where I was page to a footman, carrying after him his pike and burganet," Something in the boy's man ner was said to have attracted the banker's interest ; he took him into his house, and after keeping him there as long as he desired to stay, he gave him a horse and sixteen ducats to help him home to England.^ Foxe is the first English authority for the story ; and Foxo itook it from BandeUo, the noveUst ; but it is confirmed •by, or harmonizes with, a sketch of Cromwell's early iife in a letter of Chappuys, the imperial ambassador, to Chancellor Granvelle, " Master Cromwell," wrote Chappuys in 1535, " is the son of a poor blacksmith, who lived in a sraall viUage four m.iles from London, and is buried in a comraon grave in the parish church yard. In his youth, for sorae offence, he was impris oned, and had to leave the country. He went to Flan- ¦ders, and thence to Rorae and other places in Italy," ^ Returning to England, he raarried the daughter of a woollen-dealer, and became a partner in the business, where he amassed or inherited a considerable fortune,' C'ircumstances afterwards brought . him, . while still young, in contact with Wolsey, who discovered his merit, took him into service, and in 1525 He finds his employed him in the most important work of ^rriSrf"" visiting and breaking up the small monas- "^"^y- teries, which the pope had granted for the foundation of the new coUeges, He was engaged with thi^ busi- 1 See Foxe, Vol. V. p. 392. ^ Eustace Chappuys to Chancellor Granvelle: MS. Archiv. Brassdi: Pii- grim, p. 106. ' See Cromwell's will in an appendix to this chapter. This docmnent, lately found in the Bolls House, &mishes a clue at last to the conneziODi ofthe Cromwell family. 112 Thomas CromwetU. [Ca. vi, ness for two years, and was so efficient that he obtained an unpleasant notoriety, and complaints of his conduct found their way to the king. Nothing came of these complaints, however, and Cromwell remained with the cardinal till his fall,^ It Was tl en that the truly noble nature which was cromweU's ™ ^1™ showcd itscIf, Hc accompauicd his 5^1*0™^- master through his dreary confinement at sey'B feu. Esher,2 doing all that man could do to soften the outward wretchedness of it ; and at the meeting cf parliament, in which he obtained a seat, he rendered him a still raore gaUant service. The Lords had passed a bill of impeachment against Wolsey, violent, vindic tive, and malevolent. It was to be submitted to the Coraraons, and Crorawell prepared to attempt an oppo- 1 Are we to believe Foxe's story that Cromwell was with the Duke of Bourbon at the storming of Rome in May, 1527 ? See Foxe, Vol. V. p. 365. He was with Wolsey in January, 1527. See Ellis, third series. Vol. II. p. 117. And he was again with him early in 1528. Is it likely that he was in Italy on such an occasion in the interval ? Foxe speaks of it as one of the random exploits of Cromwell's youth, which is obviously un true ; and the natural impression which we gather is, that he was confiising the expedition of the Duke of Bourbon with some earlier campaign. On the other hand Foxe's authority was Cranmer, who was likely to know the truth ; and it is not impossible that, in the critical state of Italian politics, the English government might have desired to have some confldential agent in the Duke of Bourbon's camp. Cromwell, with his knowledge of Italy and Italian, and his adventurous ability, was a likely man to have been sent on such an employment; and the stoiy gains additional proba bility from another legend about him, that he once saved the life of Sir John Eussell, in some secret affair at Bologna. See Foxe, Vol. V. p. 367. Now, although Sir John Russell had been in Italy several times before (he was at the Battle of Pa-via, and had been employed in various diplomatic missions), and Cromwell might thus have rendered him the service in question on an earlier occasion, yet he certainly was in the Papal States, on a most secret and dangerous mission, in the months preceding the cap ture of Rome. State Papers, Vol. VI. p. 560, &c. The probabilities may pass for what they are worth till further discovery. 2 A damp, unfurnished house belonging to Wolsey, where he was or dered to remam till the government had determined upon theii count towards him. See Cavendish. 1631-32.] Thomas Cromwell. 113" sition. Cavendish has left a most characteristic descrip tion of his leaving Esher at this trying time, A cheer less November evening was closing in with ^ceaea.*, rain and storm, Wolsey was broken down ^^''"• with sorrow and sickness ; and had been unusually tried by parting with his retinue, whora he had sent liome, as unwilling to keep thera attached any longer to his fallen fortunes. When they were all gone, " My lord," says Cavendish, " returned to his charaber, lamenting the departure of his servants, making his moan unto Master Cromwell, who comforted cromweii's him the best he could, and desired my lord to mg, that he - . - .J. , , , would either give him leave to go to London, where he make or mar. would either make or mar before he came again, which was always his common saying. Then after long com munication with my lord in secret, he departed, and took his horse and rode to London ; at whose departing I was by, whom he bade farewell, and said, ye shall hear shortly of me, and if I speed well I will not fail to be here again within these two days," ' He did speed well, " After two days he came again with a much pleasanter countenance, and meeting with me before he came to my lord, said unto me, that he had adven tured to put in his foot where he trusted shortly to be better regarded or all were done," He had He defeats ^ „ , . . . the attempt- stopped the progress of the impeachment in ed impeach- the Lower House, and was answering the sey in the • 1 , T 1 • 1 J House of articles one by one. In the evening lie rode commons, down to Esher for instructions. In the morning he was again at his place in ParUament; and he con ducted the defence so skUfuUy, that finally he threw ont the bUl, saved Wolsey, and himself " grew into such estimation in every man's opinion, for his honest 1 Cavendish, pp. 269, 270. VOL. II. 8 114 Thomas CromweU. [Gh. vi. behaviour in his master's cause, that he was esteemed the most faithfuUest servant, [and] was of aU meij greatly commended," ^ Henry admired his chivalry, and perhaps his taleiit- And passes The loss of Wolscy had left him without any riraofthl'' ¦^^'^y ^ble man, unless we raay consider Sir ¦^^^ Thomas More such, upon his council, and he could not calculate on More for support in his anti- Roraan poUcy ; he was glad, therefore, to avaU himself of the service of a man who had given so rare a proof of fidelity, and who had been trained by the ablest statesraan of the age,^ To Wolsey Crorawell could render no more service except as a friend, and his warm fiiend he remained to the last. He became the king's secretary, repre senting the governraent in the House of Commons, and was at once on the high road to power, I cannot call him ambitious ; an ambitious man would scarcely have pursued so refined a policy, or have calculated on the admfration which he gained by adhering to a faUen minister. He did not seek greatness, — greatness rather sought him as the man in England most fit to bear it. His business was to prepare the measures which were to be submitted to Parliament by the gov ernment. His influence, therefore, grew necessarily with the rapidity with which events were ripening; and when the conclusive step was taken, and the king was married, the virtual conduct of the Reformation passed into his hands. His Protestant tendencies 1 Cavendish, p, 276, * Chappuys says, that a quarrel with Sir John Wallop first introduced Cromwell to Hemy. CromweU, " not knowing how^ else to defend himself, contrived with presents and entreaties to obtain an audience of tiie kiag, whom he promised to mako the richest sovereign that ever reigned in Eng land." — Chappuys to Granvelle: The Pilgrim, p. 107. 1631-2.] Thomas Cromwell. 115 were unknown as yet, perhaps, even to his own con science ; nor to the last could he arrive at any certain speculative convictions. He was dravm towards the Protestants as he rose into power by the integrity of his nature, which compelled him to trust only those who were honest Uke himself. APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VI. WILL OF THOMAS CROMWELL.— 1529, In the name of God, Amen, The 1 2tb day of July, in the year of our Lord God MCCGCCXXIX., and in the 21st year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord, King Henry VIIL, I, Thomas Cromwell, of London, Gentleman, being whole in body and in good and perfect memory, lauded be the Holy Trinity, make, ordain, and declare this my present tes tament, containing my last will, in manner as following: — First I bequeath ray soul to the great God of heaven, my Maker, Creator, and Redeemer, beseeching the most glori ous Virgin and blessed Lady Saint Mary the Virgin and Mother, with all the hf)ly company of heaven to be media tors and intercessors for me to the Holy Trinity, so that I may be able, when it shall please Almighty Grod to call me out of this miserable world and transitory life, to inherit the kingdom of heaven amongst the number of good Christiaa people ; and whensoever I sliall depart this present life I bequeath my body to be buried where it shall please God to ordain me to die, and to be ordered after the difcretion of mine executors undernamed. And for my goods which our Lord hath lent me in this world, I will shall be ordered and disposed in raanner and form as hereafter shall ensue. First I give and bequeath unto my son Gregory Cromwell six hundred threescore six pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence, of lawful money of England, with the which six hundred threescore six pounds, thirteen shillings, and four- pence, I will mine executors undernamed immediately or as soon as they conveniently may after my decease, shall pur Will of TTiomas Cromwell. 117 chase lauds, tenements, and hereditaments to the clear yearly value of 331. 6s. 8d. by the year above all charges and re prises to the use of ray said son Gregory, for term of his life ; and after the decease of the said Gregory to the heirs male of his body lawfully to be begotten, and for lack of heirs raale oF the body of the said Gregory, lawfully begotten, to the heirs general of his body lawfully begotten. And for lack of such heir.-^ to the right heirs of me the said Thomas Cromwell, in fee, I will also that immediately and as soon as the said lands, tenements, and hereditaments shall be so purchased after my death as is aforesaid by mine executors, that the yearly pi-ofits thereof shall be wholly spent and employed in and about the education and finding honestly of my said son Gregory, in virtue, good learning, and man ners, until such time as he shall come to the full age of 24 years. During which time I heartily desire and require my said executors to be good unto my said son Gregory, and to see he do lose no time, but to see him virtuously ordered and brought up according to my trust. Item, I give and bequeath to my said son Gregory, (when he shall corae to his full age of 24 years,) two hundred pounds of lawful English money to order them as our Lord shall give him grace and discretion, which 2001. I will shall . be put in surety to the intent the same raay come to his hands at his said age of 24 years. Item, I give and be queath to my said son Gregory of such household stuff as God hath lent me, three of my best featherbeds with their bolsters ; 2d, the best pair of blankets of fustian, my best coverlet of tapestry, and my quilt of yellow Turkey ?atin ; one pair of my best sheets, four pillows .of down, with four pair of the best pillowberes, four of my best table-cloths, four of my best towels, two dozen of my finest napkins, and two dozen of my other napkins, two garnish of my best ves sel, three of my best brass pots, three of ray best brass pans, two of my best kettles, two of my best spits, my best joined bed of Flanders work, with the best and tester, and 118 Will of Thomat Cromwell. other the appurtenances thereto belonging ; my best press, carven of Flanders work, and my best cupboard, carven of Flanders work, with also six joined stools of Flanders work, and six of my best cushions. Item, I give and bequeath to my said son Gregory a basin with an ewer parcel-gilt, my best salt gilt, my best cup gilt, three of my best goblets ; three other of my goblets parcel-gilt, twelve of my best sil ver spoons, three of my best drinking alepots gilt ; all the which pai-aels of plate and household stuff 1 will shall be safely kept to the nse of my said son Gregory tUl he shall come to his said full age of 24, And all the which plate, household stuflf, napery, and aU other the premises, I will mine executors do put in safe keeping until my said son come to the said years or age of 24, And if he die before the age of 24, then I will all the said plate, vessel, and house hold stuff shall be sold by mine executors. And the money thereof coraing to be given and equally divided amongst my poor kinsfolk, that is to say, amongst the children as well of mine own sisters Elizabeth and Katherine, as of my late wife's sister Joan, wife to John Williarason ; * and if it hap pen that all the children of my said sisters and sister-in-law do die before the partition be made, and none of them be living, then I will that all the said plate, vessel, and house hold stuff shall be sold and given to other my poor kinsfolk then being in life, and other poor and indigent people, in deeds of charity for my soul, my father and mother their souls, and all Christian souls, [^ Item, I give and bequeath to my daughter Anne an hundred marks of lawful money of England when she shall come to her lawful, age or happen to be married, and 40?. toward her finding until the time that she shall be of law ful age or be married, wbich AQl. I will shall be delivered to my friend John Cook, one of the six Clerks of the King's Cliancery, to the intent he may order the same and cause 1 Or WiUyams. The words are used indifferently. ' The clause enclosed between brackets is struck througli. Will of Tkjmas Cro?nwell. 119 the same to be employed in the best wise he can devise about the virtuous education and bringing up of my said daughter till she shaU come to her lawful age or marriage. Then I will that the said 100 marks, and .=o much of the said 40Z, as then shall be unspent and unemployed at the day of the death of my said daughter Anne, I will it shall remain to Gregory my son, if he then be in life ; and if he be dead, the same hundred marks, and also so much of the said 40Z, as then shaU be unspent, to be departed amongst my sisters' children, in manner and form aforesaid, Amd if it happen my said sisters' children then to be all dead, then I will the said 100 marks and so much of the said 40A as shall be un spent, shall be divided amongst ray kinsfolk, such as then shall be in life,] Item. I give and bequeath unto my sister Elizabeth Wellyfed 401., three goblets without a cover, -a mazer, and a nut. Item, I give and bequeath to my nephew Richard Willyams [} servant with my Lord Marquess Dor set, 66Z, 13s, id."], 40Z, sterling, my [' fourth] best gown, doub let, and jacket. Item, I give and bequeath to my nephew Christopher Wellyfed 40/., [* 20/.] my fifth gown, doublet, and jacket. Item, I give and bequeath to my nephew Wil liam Wellyfed the younger 20/,, [' 40/.] Item, I give and bequeath to my niece Alice Wellyfed, to her marriage, 20/, And if it happen her to die before marriage, then I will that the said 20/. shaU remain to her brother Christopher, And if it happen him to die, the same 20/, lo remain to Wm. Wellyfed the younger, his brother. And if it happen them all to die before their lawful age or raarriage, then I will that all their parts shall remain to Gregory my son. And if it happen him to die before them, then I will all the said parts shall remain [} to Aime and Grace, my daughter*] to Richard Willyams and Walter Willyams, my nephews. And if it happen them to die, then I will that aU the said parts shall be distributed in deeds of charity for my soul, my fathei's and mother's souls, and all Christian souls. Item, I give and bequeath to my mother-in-law Mercy Prior 40/. 1 Stru<* through. 120 Will of Thomas Cromwell. of lawful English money, and her chamber, with> certain household stuff; that is to say, a featherbed, a bolster, two pillows with their beres, six pair of sheets, a pair of blank ets, a garnish of vessel, two pots, two pans, two spits, with such other of my household stuff as shall be thought meet for her by the discretion of mine executors, and such as she will reasonably desire, not being bequeathed to other uses in this my present testament and last will. Item, I give and bequeath to my said mother-in-law a little salt of silver, a mazer, six silver spoons, and a drinking-pot of silver. And also I charge mine executors to be good unto her dur ing her life. Item, I give and bequeath to my brother-in- law William Wellyfed, 20/,, my third gown, jacket, and doublet. Item, I give and bequeath to John Willyams my brother-in-law, 100 marks, a gown, a doublet, a jacket, a featherbed, a bolster, six pair of sheets, two table-cloths, two dozen napkins, two towels, two brass pots, two brass pans, a silver pot, a nut parcel-gilt ; and to Joan, bis wife, 40/. Item, I give and bequeath to Joan Willyams, their daugh ter, to her marriage, 20/,, and to every other of their children 12/, 13s, 4t/. It^m, I bequeath to Waiter Willyams, my nephew, 20/, Item, I give and bequeath to Ralph Sadler, my servant, 200 marks of lawful English money, my second gown, jacket, and doublet, and all my books. Item, I give and bequeath to Hugh Whalley, my servant, 6/, 13s, M. Item, I give and bequeath to Stephen Vaughan, sometime my servant, 100 marks, a gown, jacket, and doublet. Item. I give and bequeath to Page, my servant, otherwise called John De Fount, 6/, 13s, Id. [^Item. I give and bequeath to Elizabeth Gregory, sometime my servant, 20/,, six pair of sheets, a featherbed, a pair of blankets, a coverlet, two table-cloths, one dozen napkins, two brass pots, two pans, two spits,] And also to Thoraas Averey, my servant, 6/, 13s, id. [' Item, I give and bequeath to John Cooke, one of the six Master Clerks of the Chancery, 10/., my second gown, doublet, and jacket. Item. I give and bequeath to 1 Struck through. WiU of Thomas Cromwell. 121 Eoger More, servant of the King's bakehouse, (./, 13s, id., three yards of satin ; and to Maudelyn, his wife, 3/, 6s. Sc/,] Item, I give and bequeath to John Horwood, 6/, 13s. id. [' Item. I give and bequeath to my little daughter Grace 100 marks of lawful English money when she shall come to her lawful age or marriage ; and also 40/. towards her ex hibition and finding until such time she shall be of lawful age or be married, which 40/. I will shall be delivered to my brother-in-law, John Willyams, to the intent he may order and cause the same to be employed in and about the virtu ous education and bringing up of my said daughter, till she shall come to her lawful age or marriage. And if it happen my said daughter to die before she come to her lawful age or marriage, then I will that the said 100 marks, and so much of the said 40/. as shall then be unspent and unem ployed about the finding of my said daughter at the day of the death of my said daughter shall remain and be delivered to Gregory my son, if he then shall happen to be in lite ; and if he be dead, then the said 100 marks, and the said res idue of the said 40/,, to be evenly departed among my grown kinsfolk — that is to say, my sisters' children aforesaid.] Item, That the rest of mine apparel before not given or bequeathed in this my testament and last will shall be given and equally departed amongst my servants after the order and discretion of mine exe(tutors. Item. I will also that mine executors shall take the yearly profits above the charges of my farm of Carberry, and all other things con tained in my said lease of Carberry, in the county of Mid dlesex, and with the profits thereof shall yearly pay unto my brother-in-law William (Wellyfed) and Elizabeth his wife, mine only sister, twenty pounds ; give and distribute for my soul quarterly 40 shillings during their lives and the longer of them ; and after the decease of the said William and Elizabeth, the profits of the said farm over and above the yearly rent to be kept to the use of my son Gregory till 1 Struck through. 122 Will of Thomas CromweU. he be come to the age of 24 years. And at the years of 24 the said lease and farm of Carberry, I do give and bequeath to my son Gregory, to have the same to him, his executors and assigns. And if it fortune the said Gregory my sOn to die before, my said brother-in-law and sister being dead, he shall come to the age of 24 years, then I wiU my said cousin Richard Willyams shall have the farm with the appurtenances to him and to his executors and assigns ; and if it happen my said brother-in-law, my sister, my son Gregory, and my said cousin Richard, to die before the accomplishment of this my will touching the said farm, then I will mine execu tors shall sell the said farm, and the money thereof coming to employ in deeds of charity, to pray for my soul and all Christian souls. Item. I will mine executors shaU conduct and hire a priest, being an honest person of continent and good living, to sing for my soul by the space of seven years next afiter ray death, and to give him for the same 6/, 13s. id. for his stipend. Item. I give and bequeath towards the making of highways in this realm, where it shall be thought most necessary, 20/, to be disposed by the discretion of mine executors. Item, I give and bequeath to every the five or- dei-s of Friars within the City of London, to pray for my soul, 20 shillings. Item, I give and bequeath to 60 poor raaidens in marriage, 40/,, that is to say, 13s, id. to every of the said poor maidens, to be given and distributed by the discretion of mine executors. Item, I will that there shall ' be dealt and given after my decease amongst poor people householders, to pray for ray soul, 20/., sucb as by mine ex ecutors shall be thought raost needful. Itera. I give and bequeath to the poor parishioners of the parish where God shall ordain me to have my dwellingplace at the tirae of my death, 10/., to be truly distributed amongst them by the dis cretion of mine executors. Item. I give and bequeath to my parish church for my tithes forgotten, 20 shillings. Item, To the poor prisoners of Newgate, Ludgate, King's Bench, and Marshalsea, to be equally distributed amongst them, Will of Thomas Cromwell. 123 10/, WilUng, charging, and desiring mine executors under written, that they shall see this my will performed in every point according to my true meaning and intent as they will answer to God, and discharge their consciences. The resi due of all my goods, chattels, and debts not bequeathed, my funeral and burial performed, which I will shall be done without any earthly pomp, and my debts paid, I will shall be sold, and the money thereof coming, to be distributed in works of charity and pity, after the good discretion of raine executors undernamed. Whom I make and ordain, Stephen Vaughan, Ralph Sadler, my servants, and John Willyams my brother-in-law. Praying and desiring tbe same mine executors to be good unto my son Gregory, and to all other my poor friends and kinsfolk and servants aforenamed in this my testament. And of this my present testament and last will I make Roger More mine overseer ; unto whom and also to every of the other mine executors I give and bequeath 6/, 13s, id. for their pains to be taken in the exe cution of this my last will and testament, over and above such legacies as herebefore I have bequeathed them in this same testament and will. In witness whereof, to this my present testament and last will I have set to my hand in every leaf contained in this book, the day and year before limited, Thomas Ckomwell, r' Item, I give and bequeath to William Brabazon, my ser vant, 20/, 8s,, a gun, a doublet, a jacket, and my second geld ing. It, to John Avery, Yeoman of the Bedchamber with the King's Highness, 6/, 13s, id., and a doublet of satin. It, to Thurston, my cook, 6/, 13s, id. It, to William Body, my servant, 6/. 13s, id. It. to Peter Mewtas, my servant, 61. 13s, id. It, to Ric, Sleysh, my servant, 6/. 13s, id. It, to George Wilkinson, my servant, 6/, 13s, id. It. to my friend, Thomas Alvard, 10/,, and my best geld- ing. 124 WiU of Thomas CromweU. Ik. to my friend, Thomas Rush, 10/. It. to my servant, John Hynde, my horsekeeper, 3/. 6«, %d. Item. I will that mine executors shall safely keep the patent of the manor of Romney to the use of my son Greg ory, and the money growing thereof, till he shall come to his lawful age, to be yearly received to the use g£ my said son, and the whole revenue tbei-eof coming to be truly paid unto him at such time as he shall come to the age of 24 fears. isn,] Mary qf Hungary. 125 CHAPTER VIL THE LAST EFFORTS OP DIPLOMACY. I HA\'E now to resume the thread of the political history where it was dropped at the sentence of divorce pronounced by Cranmer, and the coronation of the new queen. The effect was about to be ascertained of these bold measures upon Europe ; and of what their effect would be, only so much could be foretold with cer tainty, that the time for trifling was past, and the pope and Francis of France would be compelled to declare their true intentions. If these intentions were honest, the subordination of England to the papacy might be still preserved in a modified form. The papal jurisdic tion was at end, but the spiritual supremacy of the Bishop of Rome, with a diminished but considerable revenue attached to it, remained unaffected; and it was for the pope to determine whether, by fiilfiUing at last his original engagements, he would preserve these remnants of his power and privileges, or boldly take up the gage, excommunicate his disobedient subjects, and attempt by force to bring them back to their alle giance. The news of what had been done did not taike him whoUy by surprise. It was known at Brus- ^^^ sels at the end of AprU that the kmg had married. The queen regent ^ spoke of it to the am- 1 Mary, widow of Louis of Hungary, sister of tho emperor, and Begem ofthe Netherlands 126 Mary of Hungary. [Ch. va bassador sternly and significantly, not concealing her The king's expectation of the mortal resentment wliich M^'lta" would be felt by her brothers ; ^ and the in- to°Sre formation was forwarded with the least possi- himseif. ][j]g delay to the cardinals of the imperial fac tion at Rome, The true purposes which underlay the contradiction of Clement's language are undiscoverable. Perhaps in the past winter he had been acting out a deep intrigue — perhaps he was drifting between rival currents, and yielded in any or all directions as the alternate pressure varied ; yet whatever had been the meaning of his language, whether it was a scheme to decei.ve Henry, or was the expression only of weakness and good-nature desiring to avoid a quarrel to the latest moment, the decisive step which had been taken in the marriage, even though it was nominaUy imdivulged, 1 She was much affected when the first intimation of the marriage reached her. " I am informed of a secret friend of mine," wrote Sir John Hacket, " that when the queen here had read the letters which she re ceived of late out of England, the tears came to her eyes with very sad countenance. But indeed this day when I spake to her she showed me not such countenance, but told me that she was not well pleased. " At her setting forward to ride at himting, her Grace asked me if I had heard of late any tidings out of England. I told her Grace, as it is true, that I had none. She gave me a look as that she should marvel thereof, and said to me, '¦ Jay des nouvelles qui ne me semblent point trop bonnes,'. and told me touching the King's Highness's marriage. To the which I answered her Grace and said, ' Madame, je ne me doute point syl est faict, et quand le veuit prendre et entendre de bonne part et au sain chemyn, sans porter faveur parentelle que ung le trouvera tout lente et bien rayson- nable par layde de Dieu et de bonne conscience.' Her Grace said to me again, ' Monsieur I'ambassadeur, c'est Dieu qui le scait que je vouldroye que le tout allysse bien, mais ne scaye comment I'empereur et le roy mon frere entendront l'affaire car il touche a eulx tant que a moy.' I answered and said, ' Madame, il me semble estre assuree que I'empereur et le roy vostre frere qui sont deux Prinssys tres prudens et sayges, quant ilz auronl considere indifferentement tout l'affaire qu ilz ue le deveroyent prendre que de bonne part.' And hereunto her Grace made me answer, saying, Da quant de le prendre de bonne part ce la, ne sayge M. I'ambassadeur,' " — Hacket to the Duke of Norfolk : State Papers. Vol, VH, p. 452. 1M3.] ' The King is dted to Bome. 127 obliged him to choose his course and openly adhere to it. After the experience of the past, there could be no doubt what that course would be. On the 12th of May a citation was issued against tlie King of England, summoning him to appear May 12. by person or proxy at a stated day. It bad cited to ap been understood that no step of such a kind aome. was to be taken before the meeting of the pope and Francis , Bennet, therefore, Henry's faithful secretary, hastily inquired the meaning of this measure. The ]>ope told him that it could not be avoided, and the language which he used revealed to the EngUsh agent tiie inevitable future. The king, he said, had defied the inhibitory brief which had been lately issued, and had incurred excommunication; the imperiaUsts insisted that he should be proceeded against for contempt, and that the excommunication should at once be pronounced. However great might be his own personal reluctance, it was not possible for him to remain passive ; and if he declined to resort at once to the more extreme The censures * . , ofthe church exercise of his power, the hesitation was suspended ^ ^ ' onlytilUhe merely until the emperor was prepared to emperor can X i execute enforce the censures of the church with the them. strong hand. It stood not " with his honour to execute such censures," he said, " and the same not to be re garded," ^ But there was no wish to spare Henry ; and if Francis could be detached from his ally, and if the condition of the rest of Christendom became such as to favour the enterprise, England might evidently look for the worst which the pope, with the CathoUc powers, could execute. If the papal court was roused into so menacing a mood by the mere intimation of the necret marriage, it was easy to foresee what would 1 State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 457. 128 Clement refuses further Delay. [Ch. vn, ensue when the news arrived of the proceedings at Dunstable, Bennet entreated that the process should be delayed till the interview ; but the pope answered coldly that he had done his best and could do no more ; the imperialists were urgent, and he saw no reason to The pope's rcfusc their petition,^ This was Clement's and ihe ex- usual language, but there was something plaution ,.,,. ttiii p ofit. pecuhar m his manner. He had been often violent, but he had never shown resolution, and the English agents were perplexed. The mystery was soon explained. He had secured himself on the side of France ; and Francis, who at Calais had told Henry that his negotiations with the see of Rome were solely for the interests of England, that for Henry's sake he was marrying his son into a family beneath him in rank, that Henry's divorce was to form the especial subject of his conference with the pope, had consented to allow these dangerous questions to sink into a sec ondary phice, and had relinquished his intention, if he had ever seriously entertained it, of becoming an active party in the English quarrel. The long talked- of interview was still delayed. Delay of the First it was to havo taktfn place in the win- interview be- 1*1 - X tween the tcr, then Ul the spring ; June was the date pope and , nip. it. Tranois. last fixcd tor it, and now Bennet had to in form the king that it would not take place before Sep- The true tcmbcr ; and that, from the terms of a com- tSSter-*^ munication which had just passed between '"°''- the parties who were to meet, the subjects discussed at the conference would not be those which -' Sir Gregory Cassalis to the Duke of Norfolk. Ad pontificem accessi, et mei sermonis ilia summa fuit, vellet id prsestare ut serenissimum legem nostrum certiorem facere possemus, in sua causa nihil innovatum iri. Hit ille, sicut solet, respondit, nescire se quo pacto possit Csesarianis obsistere. — Stale Papers, Vol. VII. p. 461. 1633.] Isolation of England. 129 he had been led to expect. Francis, in answer to a question from the pope, had specified three things which he proposed particularly to " intreat." The first con cerned the defence of Christendom against the Turks, the second concerned the general council, and the third concerned " the extinction of the Lutheran sect," ^ These were the points which the Most Christian king was anxious to discuss with the pope. For the latter good object especiaUy, ," he would devise and treat for the provision of an army," In the King of England's cause, he trusted " some means might be found where by it might be compounded ; " ^ but if persuasion faUed, there was no fear lest he should have recourse to any other method. It was this which had given back to the pope his courage. It was this which Bennet had now to report to Henry, The French alliance, it was too Ukely, would prove a broken reed, and pierce the hand that leant upon it, Henry knew the danger ; but danger was not a very terrible thing either to him or to his people, ProbaWe Tciii !!• 1 isolation of It he had conquered his own reluctance to England. risk a schism in the church, he was not likely to yield to the fear of isolation ; and if there was something to alarm in the aspect of afiairs, there was also much to encourage. His parliament was united and resolute. His queen was pregnant. The Nun of Kent had assigned him but a month to live after his marriage ; six months had passed, and he was alive and well ; the supernatural powers had not declared against him ; and while safe with respect to enmity from above, the earthly powers he could afford to defy. When he finally divorced Queen Catherine, he must have fore- 1 Bennet to Heniy : State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 462. ' Ibid vol.. II. 9 130 Henry urgent against the Interview. [Ch. Vlt Been his present position at least as a possibiUty, and PoUc of i^ ii°* prepared for so swift an apostasy in Pransis. Fraucis, and if not yet wholly believing it, we may satisfy ourselves he had never absolutely trusted a prince of metal so questionable. The Duke of Norfolk was waiting at the French court, with a magnificent embassy, to represent the English king at the interview. The arrival of the pope had been expected in May, It was now delayed tiU September ; and if Clement came after all, it would be for objects in which England had but small concem. It was better for England that there should be no meet ing at all, than a meeting to devise schemes for the massacre of Lutherans. Henry therefore wrote to the Duke, telling him generaUy what he had heard firom Rome ; he mentioned the three topics which he under stood were to form the matter of discussion ; but he skilfiiUy affected to regard them as having originated with the imperialists, and not with the French king. In a long paper of instructions, in which earnestness and irony were strangely blended, he directed the am bassador to treat his good brother as if he were stUl exclusively devoted to the interests of England ; and to urge upon him, on the ground of this fresh delay, that the interview should not take place at all.^ " Our pleasure is," he wrote, " that ye shall say The king's that WO be not a little moved in our instructionsto the Duke .heart to see our good brother and us, hems of Norfolk to . t. r^t . 1 -11 " disappomt such priuccs of Christendom, to be so handled the inter- • i i iti i riew." With the pope, so much to our dishonour, and to the pope's and the emperor's advancement ; seeming to be at the pope's commandment to come or tarry as ' Letter undated, bnt written about the middle of June: State Papers, Vri. VII. p. 474. 1683.] Henry urgent against the Interview. 131 he or his cardinals shall appoint ; and to depend u^ on his pleasure when to meet — that is to say, when he list or never. If our good brother and we were either suitors to make request, the obtaining whereof we did much set by, or had any particular matter of advantage to entreat with him, tliese proceedings might be the better tolerated ; but our good brother having no par ticular matter of his own, and being , . , , that [no] more glory nor surety could happen to the emperour than to obtain the effect of the three articles The "Three moved hy the pope and his cardinals, we think proposed for , 111 PI discussion it not convenient to attend the pleasure ot the win be 1 TTT 111 1 wholly to the pope, to go or to abvde. We could have been advantage of r r 1 a J _ thelmperial content to have received and taken at the ists. pope's hand, jointly with our good brother, pleasure and friendship in our great cause ; [but] on the other part, we cannot esteem the pope's part so high, as to have our good brother an attendant suitor therefore , , , , desiring him, therefore, in anywise to disappoint for his part the said interview ; and if he have already granted thereto — upon some new good occasion, which he now undoubtedly hath — to depart from the same, " For we, j'e may say, having the justness of our cause for us, witb such an entire and whole jj^ i,as consent of our nobility and commons of our experience realm and subjects, and being aU matters JSeJieE^Mpof passed, and in such terms as they now be, do notvi'taito not find such lack and want of tiiat the pope '^^^'^^¦¦ might do, with us or against us, as we wouldj^for the obtaining thereof be contented to have a French king our so perfect a friend, to be not only a mediator hut a suitor therein, and a suitor attendant to have audience upon liking and after the advice of such cardinals as repute it among pastymes to play and dally with kings 132 He appeals to a Council. [Ch. vii, and princes ; whose honom-, ye may say, is above all things, and more dear to us in the person of our good brother, than is any piece of our cause at the pope's hands. And therefore, if there be none other thing but our cause, and the other causes whereof we be advertised, our advice, counsel, special desire also and request is, [that our good brother shall] bre.ak off the interview, unless the pope wiU make suit to him ; and [unless] our said good brother hath such causes of his own as may particularly tend to his own benefit, hon- King Heniy ^^^i ^"^^ profit — wherciu he shall do great popTand* ^^^ singular pleasure unto us ; giving to urir himseifaiso. ctcrstand to the pope, that we know ourselves and him both, and look to be esteemed, accordingly." Should it appear that on receipt of this communica tion, Francis was still resolved to persevere, and that he had other objects in view to which Henry had not been made privy, the ambassadors were then to remind him of the remaining obligations into which he had entered ; and to ascertain to what degree his assistance niight be calculated upon, should the pope pronounce Henry deposed, and the emperor attempt to enforce the sentence. After forwarding these instructions, the king's next Intended ap- ^top was to anticipate the pope by an appeal ^irai* which would neutralize his judgment should council. jjg venture upon it ; and which offered a fresh opportunity of restoring the peace of Christen dom, if there was true anxiety to preserve that peace. The hinge of the great question, in the form which at last it assumed, was the validity or invalidity of the dispensation by which Henry had married his brother's widow. Being a matter which touched the limit ofthe pope's power, the pope was himself unable to determuie 1633.] He appeals to a Council. 183 it hi his own favour ; and the only authority by which the law could be ruled, was a general council. The advan- X 1 T .1111 tagesofthis In the preceding winter, the pope had volun- measure. teered to submit the question to this tribunal ; but Henry believing that it was on the point of immediate solution ill another way, had then declined, on the ground that it would cause a needless delay. He was already married, and he had hoped that sentence might be given in his favour in time to anticipate the publica tion of the ceremony. But he was perfectly satisfied that justice was on his side ; and was equally confident of obtaining the verdict of Europe, if it could be fairly pronounced. Novf, therefore, under the altered cir cumstances, he accepted the offered alternative. He anticipated with tolerable certainty the effect which would be produced at Rome, when the news should arrive there of the Dunstable divorce ; and on the 29th of June he appealed formally, in the presence of the Archbishop of York, from the pope's impending sentence, to the next general coun cU,! Of this curious document the substance was as fol lows : — It commenced with a declaration Terms of the 1 11-11 . . p • appeal. that the king had no mtention ot actmg The king has 1 • 11 1/^11 •°° mtention Otherwise than became a good Oathohc ofderogating . , , , , from the law- prince ; or of iniuring the church or attack- fui privileges • t • -1 I 1 1 /-I 1 I of the See of ing the pnvileges conceded by (jrod to the Rome. 1 Ofthe Archbishop of Vork, not of Canterbury: which provokjs a ques tion. Conjectures are of little value in history, but inasmuch as tnere must have been some grave reason for the substitution, a suggestion of a possi ble reason miiy not be wholly out of place. The appeal in itself was strictly, legal ; and it was of the highest importance to avoid any illegality of form. Cranmer, by transgressing the inhibition which Clement had issued in the wirter, might be construed hy the papal party to have virtually incurred the censures threatened, and an escape might thus have been fumished from the difficilty in which the appeal placed them. 134 Terms of the Appeal. [Ch. vn Holy See, If his words could be lawfiiUy shown to have such a tendency, he would revoke, emend, and correct them in a Catholic spirit. The general features of the case were then recapitu- Bnt Europe latcd, His marriage with his brother's wife clared in his had been pronounced illegal by the principal favour in his , , , p t^ i i i n , greatmatter, universitics ot Europc, bv the clergv of the "by the in- , p i /-^, i p t^ i i i spirationof two provincos 01 the Church of England, bv the Most , -^ , 111, 1 , -^ High," he the most leamed theologians and canonists, another wife, and finally, by the public judgment of the church,! He therefore had felt himself free ; and, " by the inspiration of the Most High, had lawfiiUy married another woman," Furthermore, " for the common weal and tranquUlity of the realm of England, and for the wholesome rule and government of the same, he had caused to be enacted certain statutes and ordi nances, by authority of parliaments lawfiiUy called for He fears that ^^^^ purposc," " Now, howevcr," hc contm- whoSin- !!6d, " we fearing that his Holyness the Pope ihrougiwut. ¦ • • • having in our said cause treated us piSs "he'^cen- ^^^ otherwise than either respect for our dig- chirc?""" nity and desert, or the duty of his own office against him. required at his hands, and having done us many injuries which we now of design do suppress, but which hereafter we shall be ready, shonld circum stances so require, to divulge . , , , may now proceed to acts of further injustice, and heaping wrong on wrong, may pronounce the censures and other penalties of the spiritual sword against ourselves, our realm, and subjects, seeking thereby to deprive us of the use ol the sacraments, and to cut us off", in the sight of the world, from the unity of the church, to the no slight hurt and injury of our realm and subjects : ' Publico ecclesise judicio. 1633.] Terms of the Appeal. 185 " Fearing these things, and desiring to preserve from detriment not only ourselves, our own dignity and estimation, but also our subjects, committed to us by Almighty God ; to keep them in the unity of the Chris tian faith, and in the wonted participation in the sacra ments ; that, when in truth they be not cut off from the integrity of the church, nor can nor will be so cut off in any manner, they may not appear to be so cut off in the estimation of men ; [desiring further] to check and hold back our people whom God has given to us, lest, in the event of such injury, they refuse utterly to obey any longer the Roman Pontiff, as a hard and cruel pastor : [for these causes] and believ ing, from reasons probable, conjectures likely, and words used to our injury by his Holiness the Pope, which in divers manners have been brought to our ears, that some weighty act may be committed by him or others to the prejudice of ourselves and of our realm ; — We, therefore, in behalf of all and g^ appeals every of our subjects, and of all persons ad- ^c" in hering to us in this our cause, do make our nexTgenra^ appeal to the next general council, which ™"'"=''- shall be lawfiiUy held, in place convenient, with the consent of the Christian princes, and of such others as it may concern — not in contempt of the Holy See, but for defence of the truth of the Gospel, and for the other causes afore rehearsed. And we do trust in God that it shall not be interpreted as^ a thing Ul done on our part, if preferring the salvation of our soul and the relief of our conscience to any mundane respects or favours, we have in this cause regarded more the Divine law than the laws of man, and have thought it rather meet to obey God than to obey man," ^ 1 Kymer, Vol. VI. part 2, p. 188. 136 Legal Value of the Appeal. [Ch. vii By the appeal and the causes which were assigned for it, Henry preoccupied the ground of the conflict ; he entrenched himself in the " debateable land " of le gal uncertainty ; and until his position had been pro nounced untenable by the general voice of Christendom, any sentence which the pope could issue would have but a doubtful validity. It was, perhaps, but a slight advantage ; and the niceties of technical fencing might soon resolve themselves into a question of ¦ mere strength ; yet, in the opening of great conflicts, it is weU, even when a resort to force is inevitable, to throw on the opposing party the responsibUity of violence ; and Henry had been led, either by a refinement of policy, or by the plain straightforwardness of his inten tions, into a situation where he could expect without alarm the unrolUng of the ftiture. The character of that future was likely soon to be decided. The appeal was published on the 29th of June ; and as the pope must have heard, by the mid dle of the month at latest, of the trial and judgment at Dunstable, a few days would bring an account of the manner in which he had received the intelligence. Prior to the arrival of the couriers, Bennet, with the assistance of Cardinal Tournon, had somewhat soothed down his exasperation. Francis, also, having heard that immediate process was threatened, had written earnestly to deprecate such a measure ; ^ and though he 1 The French king did write unto Cardinal Tournon (not, however, of his own ivill, but under pressure from the Duke of Norfolk), very instantly, that he should desire the pope, in the said French king's name, that his Holyness would not innovate anything against your Highness any wise till the congress : adding, withal, that if his Holyness, notwithstanding his said desire, would proceed, he could not less do, considering the great and indis soluble amity betwixt your Highnesses, notorious to all the world, but take and recognise such proceeding for a fresh injury. — Bennet to Henry VIII.' State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 468. 1683.] Cranmer's Sentence known at Bome. 137 took the interference " very displeasantly," ^ the pope could not afford to lose, by premature impatience, the fruit of all his labour and diplomacy, and had yielded so far as to promise that nothing of moment should be done. To this state of mind he had been brought one day in the second week of June, The morning after, Bennet found him " sore altered," The news The news of of "my Lord of Canterbury's proceedings" f^^^^ had arrived the preceding night ; and " his ^ ^.es"!^'' Holiness said that [such] doings were too ^°°'*' sore for him to stand still at and do nothing," ^ It was " against his duty towards God and the world to toler ate them," The imperialist cardinals, impatient before, clamoured that the evil had been caused by the dila tory timidity with which the case had been handled from the first,^ The consistory sate day after day with closed doors ; * and even such members of it general in as had before incUned to the English side, afe*on°s°s-" joined in the common indignation, " Some '°'^^- extreme process" was ¦ instantly looked for, and the English agents, in their daily interviews with the pope, were forced to listen to language which it was hard to bear with equanimity, Bennet's well^tired courtesy carried him successfully through the difficulty; his companion Bonner was not so fortunate, Bonner's tongue was insolent, and under bad control, Bonner is TT T 1 1 , , 1 impertinent. He replied to menace bv impertinence ; and The pope ^ , -^ , , threatens to on one occasion was so exasperating, that bouhimia Clement threatened to burn him alive, or He'stetesin boU him in a caldron of lead,^ When fairly England. roused, the old man was dangerous ; and the futur* » Stale Papers, Vol. VH. p. 469 ^ ibid. ' Ibid. p. 470. 4 Ibid. p. 467, nota, jnd p. 470. » Burnet, Vol. I. p. 221. 138 Measures of the Consistory. [Ch. va Bishop of London wrote to England in extremity of alarm. His letter has not been found, but the characr. ter of it may be perceived from the reassuring reply of Henry com- t^e king. The agents, Henry said, were not forts him. ^q allow thcmselves to be frightened; they were to go on calmly, with their accustomed diligence and dexterity, disputing the ground from point to point, and trust to him. Their cause was good, and, with God's help, he would be able to defend them from the malice of their adversaries,^ Fortunately for Bonner, the pope's passion was "of Theconsis- hrief duration, and the experiment whether tato pra-' Henry's arm could reach to the dungeons of dence. ^^^ Vatican remained untried. The more moderate of the cardinals, also, something assuaged the storm ; and angry as they all were, the majority still saw the necessity of prudence. In the heat of the irri tation, final sentence was to have been pronounced upon the entire cause, backed by interdict, excommuni cation, and the full volume of the papal thunders. At the close of a month's deliberation they resolved to reserve judgment on the original question, and to con fine themselves for the present to revenging the insult to the pope by " my Lord of Canterbury," Both the king and the archbishop had disobeyed a formal inhibi tion. On the 12th of July, the pope issued a brief, ' We only desire and pray you to endeavour yourselves in the execution of that your charge — casting utterly away and banishing from you such fear and timorousness, or rather despair, as hy your said letters we perceive ye have conceived — reducing to your memories in the lieu and stead thereof, as a thing continually lying before your eyes and incessantly sounded in your ears, the justice of our cause, which cannot at length ba shadowed, bnt shall shine and shew itself to the confusion of our adver saries. And we having, as is said, tmth for us, with the help and assist ance of God, author of the same, shall at all times be able to maintain you, -Henry VIII. to Bonner: Siate Papers, Vol. VII. p. 485. 1633.] Measures of the Consistory. 139 declaring Cranmer's judgment to have been Ulegal, the English process to have been null and void, Juiy 12. and the king, by his disobedience, to have in- ciares the di- curred, ipso facto, the threatened penalties of and com- r\n 1 • 1 1 mands Henry excommunication, Uf his clemency he sus- to cancel the pended these censures till the close ofthe fol- if he fails to lowing September, in order that time might declared be allowed to restore the respective parties to =ated. their old positions : if within that period the parties were not so restored, the censures would falh^ This brief was sent into Flanders, and fixed in the usual place against the door of a church in Dunkirk, Henry was prepared for a measure which was 110 more than natural. He had been prepared for it as a possibility when he married. Both he and Francis must have been prepared for it on their meeting at Calais, when the French king advised him to marry, and promised to support him through the consequences. His own measures had been arranged beforehand, and he had secured himself in technical entrenchments by his appeal. After the issue of the brief, however, he could allow no English embassy to compliment Clem ent by its presence on his visit to France. He " knew the pope," as he said. Long experience had shown him that nothing was to be gained by yielding in minor points ; and the only chance which now remained of preserving the estabhshed order of Christendom, was to terrify the Vatican court into submission by the firmness of his attitude. For the present complica tions, the court of Rome, not he, was responsible. The pope, with a culpable complacency for the em peror, had shrunk from discharging a duty which hia office imposed upon him ; and the result had been, 1 Bonner to Cromwell. Stale Papers, Vo' '"'U. p. 481. 140 Henry again calls on Francis. [Cava that the duty was discharged by another, Heniy could not blame himself for the consequences of Clem- (:nt's delinquency. He rather felt himself wrougedin having been driven to so extreme a measure agsinst Henry again his wUl, Hc rcsolved, therefore, to recal the eis to decime embassy, and once more, though with no pope. great hope that he would be successful, to invite Francis to fulfil his promise, and to unite with himself in expressing his resentment at the pope's con duct. His despatch to the Duke of Norfolk on this occasion was the natural sequel of what he had writ- ten a few weeks previously. That letter had failed wholly of its effect. The interview was resolved upon for quite other reasons than those which were ac knowledged, and therefore was not to be given up, A promise, however, had been extracted, that it should be given up, if in the course of the summer the pope " innovated anything " against the King of England ; and Henry now required, formally, that this engage ment should be observed, " A notorious and notable innovation " had been made, and Francis must either deny his words, or adhere to them. It would be evi dent to all the world, if the interview took place under the present circumstances, that the aUiance with Eng land was no longer of the importance with him which it had been ; that his place in the struggle, when the struggle came, would be found on the papal side. The language of Henry throughout this paper was The cause at Very fine and noble. He reminded Francis issue Is the *' ,111 • i.1, Indepen- that substautiallv the cause at issue was tne deneeof p 11 , i 1 ¦ • ¦ I.4 princes. causc of all priuccs ; the pope claiming a rignt to summon them to plead in the courts of Rome, and refiising to admit their exemption as sovereign rulersi 1533.] He will not surrender his Marriage. 141 He had been required not only to undo his marriage, and cancel the sentence of divorce, but, as a He has been condition of reconciliation with the Holy See, repeal the to undo also the Act of Appeals, and to re- peais, store the papal jurisdiction. He desired it to be under stood, with emphasis, that these points were all equaUy sacred, and the repeal of the act was as little yn^et^ is to be thought of as the annulling the mar- ""po^^e. riage, " The pope," he said, " did inforce us to excog itate some new thing, whereby we inight be healed and reUeved of that continual disease, to care for our cause at Rome, where such defence was taken from us, as by the laws of God, nature, and man, is due unto us. Hereupon depended the wealth of our realm ; here upon consisted the surety of our succession, which by no other means could be well assured," " And there fore," he went on, " you [the Duke] shall ^^ ^^^. say to our good brother, that the pope persist- p^potre^M*" mg in the ways he hath entered, ye must ^^^l^" needs despair in any meeting between the '^^' French king and the pope, to produce any such effect as to cause us to meet in concord with the pope ; but we shall be even as far asunder as is between yea and nay. For to the pope's enterprise to revoke or put back any thing that is done here, either in marriage, statute, sen tence, or proclamation ^ — of which four members is knit and conjoined the surety of our matter, nor any can be removed from the other, lest thereby the whole edifice should be destroyed — we wUl and shall, by aU ways and means say nay, and declare our nay in such sort aa the world shaU hear, and the pope feel it. Wherein ye may say our firm trust, perfect hope, and assured 1 The proclamation ordering that Catherine should be called not que«n, but Princess Dowager. 142 He will not repeal his Legislation. [Ch. vil confidence is, that our good brother will agree with us : And he as wcll for that it should be partly dishon- Francis wiu ourablc for him to see decay the thing that him as to was of his OWU foundation and planting ; as conduct. also that it should be too much dishonourable for us — having traveUed so far in this matter, and brought it to this point, that all the storms of the year passed, it is now come to harvest, trusting to see shortly the fruit of our marriage, to the wealth, joy, and comfort of all our realm, and our own singular consolar tion — that anything should now be done by us to im pair the same, and to put our issue either in peril of bastardy, or otherwise disturb that [which] is by the whole agreement of our reahn established for their and our commodity, wealth, and benefit. And in this de termination ye know us to be so fixed, and the contrary hereof to be so infeasible, either at our hands, or bythe consent of the realm, that ye must needs despair of any order to be taken by the French king with the pope. For hhnseif, For if anv were bv him taken wherein any of he is Batisfled •' . ^ - . that he cau thcsc four picccs should be touched — that is retract i • p i T nothing to sav, the marriage ot the queen our wue, which hehaa , •' , p 7 t., i p .-. i ) justly done, the revocation ot the Bishop ot Canterbury s sentence, the statute of our realm, or our late proclama tion, which be as it were one — and as walls, covering, and foundation make a house, so they knit together, establish, and make one matter — ye be .well assured, and be so ascertained from us, that in no wise we will relent, but wUl, as we have before written, withstand the same. Whereof ye may say that ye have thought good to advertise him, to the intent he make no farther promise to the pope therein than may be performed." The ambassadors were the more emphatically to in sist on the king's resolution, lest Francis, in his desire 1633.] He urges the Bupture of the Interview. 143 for conciUation, might hold out hopes to the pope which could not he realized. They were to say, however, that the King of England still trusted that the inter view would not take place. The see of Rome was asserting a jurisdiction which, if conceded, would en courage an unlimited usurpation. If princes might be cited to the papal courts in a cause of matrimony, they might be cited equaUy in other causes at the pope's pleasure ; and the free kingdoms of Europe would be converted into dependent provinces of the see of Rome. It concerned alike the interest and the honour of all sovereigns to resist encroachments which pointed to such an issue ; and, therefore, Henry said he And the pope hoped that his good brother would use the made to un- 5" derstand his pope as he had deserved, " doing him to fouy. understand his folly, and [that] unless he had first made amends, he could not find in his heart to have further amity with him." If notwithstanding, the instructions concluded, " all these persuasions cannot have place to let the said meeting, and the French king shall say it is expedient for him to have in his hands the duchess,^ under pre tence of marriage for his son, which he cannot obtain but by this means, ye shall say that ye remember ye heard him say once he would never conclude that mar riage but to do us good, which is now infaisible ; and now in the voice of the world shaU do us both more hurt in the diminution of the reputation of our amity than it should do otherwise profit. Neverthe- Z^\l^ less, [if] ye cannot let his precise determina- l^^^^„ tion, [ye] can but lament and bewaU your ^™°|^i„i, own chance to depart home in this sort ; and ^'^^^^ that yet of the two inconvenients, it is to you ^^^^ 1 Catherine de Medici. 144 Becal of the Embassy. [Ch. va more tolerable to return to us nothing done, than to be present at the interview and to be compeUed to look patiently upon your master's enemy." After having entered thus their protest against the French king's conduct, the embassy was to return to England, leaving a parting intimation of the single con dition under which Henry would consent to treat. If the pope would declare that " the matrimony with the Lady Catherine was and is nought, he should do some what not to be refused ; " except with this preliminary, no offer whatever could be entertained,^ This communication, as Henry anticipated, was not The remon- more effectual than the former in respect of Btrance&iis. j^g immediate object. At the meeting of Calais the interests of Francis had united him with England, and in pursuing the objects of Henry he was then pursuing his own. The pope and the emperor had dissolved the coaUtion by concessions on the least dangerous side. The interests of Francis lay now in the other direction, and there are few instances in his tory in which governments have adhered to obligations against their advantage from a spirit of honour, when the purposes with which they contracted those obliga tions have been otherwise obtained. The English em bassy returned as they wore ordered ; the French court pursued their way to Marseilles ; not quarrelling with England ; intending to abide by the alliance, and to give all proofs of amity which did not involve incon venient sacrifices ; but producing on the world at large by their conduct the precise effect which Henry had The effect foretold. The world at large, looking at acts wS'^° rather than to words, regarded the interriew opinion. g^g g^ contrivance to reconcile Francis and the 1 Henry "VIH. to the Duke of Norfolk: Slate Papers, Vol. VII. p. 493, 1533.] England and Germany. 145 emperor through the intervention of the pope, as a pre hminary for a packed council, and for a holy intended war against the Lutherans,^ — a combination umvirate— of ominous augury to Christendom, from the Emperor^ p 1*1 • p /^ ^"'J ^bc King cons'equences ot wnicn, it Germany was to ofFnmce. be the first sufferer, England would be inevitably the second. Meanwhile, as the French alliance threatened to fail, the English government found themselves driven at last to look for a connexion among those powers from whom they had hitherto most anxiously discon nected theraselves. At such a time Protestant Ger many, not Catholic France, was England's September 6. natural friend. The Reformation was es- aSSSthis sentially a Teutonic movement ; the Germans, towirdsSei the English, the Scotch, the Swedes, the ""'"y- Hollanders, all were struggling on their various roads towards an end essentially the same. The same dan gers threatened them, the same inspiration moved them; and in the eyes of the orthodox Cathohcs they were united in a black communion of heresy. Unhappily, though this identity was obvious to their enemies, it was far from obvious to themselves. The odium theologicum is ever hotter between sec- unfortunate tions of the same party which are divided by n™on*among trifling differences, than between the open P'^t^stants. 1 Sir John Hacket, writing from Ghent on the 6th of September, de scribes as the general impression that the Pope's " trust was to assure his alliance on both sides." " He trusts to bring about that his Majesty the French king and he shall become and remain in good, fast, and sure alli ance together; and so ensuring that they three (the Pope, Francis, and Charles V.) shall be able to reform and set good order in the rest of Chris tendom. But whether his Unhappiness's — I mean his Holiness's — inten tion, is set for the welfare and utility of Christendom, or for his own insin cerity and singular purpose, I remit that fo God and to them that know more of the world than 1 do." — Hacket to Cromwell: State Papers, Vol VII. p. 506. VOL. II. 10 146 England and Germany. [Ch. vit representatives of antagonist principles ; and Anglicans' and Lutherans, instead of joining hands across the Channel, endeavoured only to secure each a recogni tion of themselves at the expense of the other. The English plumed themselves on their orthodoxy. They were "not as those pubUcans," heretics, despisers of the keys disobedient to authority ; they desired only the independence of their national church, and they proved their zeal for the established faith with aU the warmth of persecution. To the Germans national freedom was of wholly minor moment, in comparison wilh the freedom of the soul ; the orthodoxy of Eng land was as distasteful to the disciples of Luther as the orthodoxy of Rome — and the interests of Europe were sacrificed on both sides to this foolish and fatal disunion. Circumstances indeed would not permit the division to remain in its first intensity, and their com mon danger compeUed the two nations into a partial understanding. Yet the reconciliation, imperfect to the last, was at the outset aU but impossible, Theh relations were already embittered by many reciprocal acts of hostility, Henry VIII, had won his spurs as a theologian by an attack on Luther. Luther had re plied by a hailstorm of invectives. The Lutheran books bad been proscribed, the Lutherans themselves had been burnt by Henry's bishops. The Protestarit divines in Germany had attempted to conciliate the emperor by supjiorting the cause of Catherine ; and Luthei hiraself had spoken loudly in condemnation cf the king. The elements of disunion were so many and so powerful, that there was little hope of contending against them successfully. Nevertheless, as Heniy saw, the coalition of Francis and the emperor, if the pope succeeded in cementing it, was a most serious »33.] England and Germany. 147 danger, to which an opposite aUiance would alone be an adequate counterpoise ; and the experiment might at least be tried whether such an alhance was possible. At the beginning of August, therefore, Ste- Mission oi phen Vaughan was sent on a tentative mis- lau^hanto sion to the Elector of Saxe, John Frederick, Jl;|^?e"or^ at Weimar,! He was the bearer of letters o^^""*' containing a proposal for a resident English ambassar dor ; and if the elector gave his consent, he was to pro* ceed with similar offers to the courts of the Landgrave of Hesse and the Duke of Lunenberg,^ Vaughan ar rived in due time at the elector's court, was admitted to audience, and delivered his letters. The prince read them, and in the evening of the same day re- ^niicb is not turned for answer a polite but wholly abso- ''«''=''™- lute refiisal. Being but a prince elector, he said, he might not aspire to so high an honour as to be favoured with the presence of an English ambassador. It was not the custom in Germany, and he feared that if he consented he should displease the emperor,^ The meaning of such a reply delivered in a few hours was not to be mistaken, however disguised in courteous lan guage. The English emissary saw that he was an unwelcome visitor, and that he raust depart with the utmost celerity, " The elector," he wrote,* "^f^^l^. " thirsted to have me gone from him, which I %^^^^^. right well perceived by evident tokens which fmptro'i.""' 1 John the Magnanimous, son of John the Steadfast, and nephew ol thi Elector Frederick, Luther's first protector. • 2 Slate Papers, Vol. VII. pp. 499-501. ' Princeps Elector ducit se imparem ut Eegis Celsitudinis vel aliorun regum oratores ea lege in aula sua degerent ; vereturque ne ob id apue Osesaream majestatem unicum ejus Dominum et alios male audiret, poEset que sinistre tale institutum interpretari. — Keply of the Elector : Slate Pa pert. Vol. VII. p. 503. * Vaughan to Cromwell: State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 509 148 England and Germany. [Cn.va declared unto me the same," He had no anxiety to expose to hazard the toleration which the Protestant dukedoras as yet enjoyed from the emperor, by commit ting himself to a connexion with a prince with whose present policy he had no sympathy, and whose conver sion to the cause of the Reformation he had as yet nt reason to believe sincere,^ The reception which Vaughan met with at Weimar satisfied him that he need go no further ; neither the Landgrave nor the Duke of Lunenberg would he likely to venture on a course which the elector so obri- ously feared. He, therefore, gave up his mission, and returned to England, The first overtures in this direction issued in com- The Miure a pl^tc failure, uor was tbe result wholly to be abie^Sn*^ regretted. It taught Henry (or it was a first to England, commencement of the lesson) that so long as he pursued a merely English policy he might not ex pect that other nations would embroil themselves in his defence. He must allow the Reformation a wider scope, he must permit it to comprehend within its pos sible consequences the breaking of the chains by which his subjects' minds were bound — not merely a change of jailors. Then perhaps the German ,^rinces might return some other answer, 1 I consider the man, with other two — that is to say, the Landgrave von Hesse and the Duke of Lunenberg — to be the chief and principal defend ers and maintainers of the Lutheran sect : who considering the same with no small difficulty to be defended, as well against the emperor and the bishops of Germany, his nigh and shrewd neighbours, as against the most opinion of all Christian raen, feareth to raise any other new matter wlierfcty they should take a larger and peradventure a better occasion to revenge the same. The King's Highness seeketh to have intelligence with tliem, as they conjecture to have them confederate with him; yea, and tliat against the emperor, if he would anything pretend against the king. — Here is the thing which I think feareth the duke. — Vaughan to CromweU! *afe Papers, Vol VII. pp. 509, 510. 1533.] Birth of Elizabeth. 149 The disappointment, however, fell lightiy; for be fore the account of the faUure had reached England, an event had happened,, which, poor as the king might be in foreign alUances, had added most raaterial strength to his position in England, The full raoraent of that event he had no means of knowing. In its immediate bearing it was matter for most abundant satisfaction. On the seventh of September, between three September 7. and four in the afternoon, at the palace of pl.-^j's"'* Greenwich, was born a princess, named three ^''^'"'"'¦ days later in her baptism, after the king's nrother, Eliz- abeth.i ^ gQjj jj^^j^ been hoped for. The child was a daughter only ; yet at least. Providence had not pro nounced against the marriage by a sentence of barren ness ; at least there was now an heir whose legitimacy the nation had agreed to accept, Te Deums Bxnitaaon were sung in all the churches ; again the river '" i^ndon. decked itself in splendour ; again all London steeples were musical with bells, A font of gold was presented for the christening, Francis, in corapensation for his backslidings, had consented to be godfather ; and the infant, who was soon to find her country so rude a stepmother, was received with all the outward signs of exulting welcome. To Catherine's friends ligMand the offspring of the rival marriage was not ^'^'¦^'>'^' welcome, but was an object rather of bitter hatred ; and the black cloud ofa sister's jealousy gathered over the cradle whose innocent occupant had robbed her of her titie and her expectations. To the king, to the pariiament, to the healthy heart of England, she* was an object of eager hope and an occasion for thankful gratitude ; but the seeds were sown with her birth of those misfortunes which were soon to overshadow her, i Hall, p. 805. 150 Clement arrives at Marseilles. [Cu. va and to form the school of the great nature which in its maturity would re-mould the world. Leaving ElizabetTi for the present, we return to the continent, and to the long-promised interview, which was now at last approaching, Henry made no furthei atterapt to remonstrate with Francis ; and Francis as sured him, and with all sincerity, that he would use his best efforts to move the pope to make the neces sary concessions. The English embassy meanwhile was withdrawn. The excommunication had been re ceived as an act of hostility, of which Henry would not even condescend to complain ; and it was to be understood distinctly that in any exertions which might be made by the French king, the latter was acting without commission on his own responsibility. The in- Preparations tcrcession was to be the spontaneous act of a wew''at Ma^" mutual friend, who, for the interests of Chris- seiues. tcndom, desired to heal a dangerous wound; but neither directly nor indirectly was it to be inter preted as an expression of a desire for a reconcUiation on the English side. It was determined further, on the recal of the Duke of Norfolk, that the opportunity of the meeting should be taken to give a notice to the pope of the king's ap peal to the council ; and for this purpose, Bennet and Bonner were directed to follow the papal court from Rome, Bennet never accomplished this journey, dy ing on the route, worn out with much service,' His death delayed Bonner, and the conferences had opened for many days before his arrival, Clement hadieached Marseilles by ship from Genoa, about the 20th of October, As if pointedly to irritate Henry, he h^d placed himself under the conduct of the Duke of 1 State Papers, Vol. VH. p. 512. 1533.] The Interview. 151 Albany,^ He was foUowed two days later by his fair niece, Catherine de Medici ; and the prepara- "the pope ar- tions for the maniage were commenced with the conduct , . p , rr^, of the Duke the utmost swiftness and secrecy, ihe con- of Albany. ditions of the contract were not allowed to transpire, but they were concluded in three days ; and on the 25th of October the pope bestowed his precious oct. 25th. present on the Duke of Orieans, he himself ^^^^^Cke performing the nuptial ceremony, and accom- and cSr panying it with his paternal benediction on the '™ & _ ter to the lous quick, eyed rae, and that divers times ; king. making a good pause in one place ; at which time I desired the datary to advertise his Holiness that I would speak with him ; and albeit the datary made no little difficulty therein, yet perceiving that upon re fiisal I would have gone forthwith to the pope, he ad vertised the pope of my said desire. His Holiness dis missing as then the said cardinals, and letting his vesture fall, went to a window in the said chamber, calling me unto him. At which time I showed unto his Holiness how that your Highness had given me express and strait coraraandraent to intiraate unto him how that your Grace had solemnly provoked and appealed unto the general council ; submitting yourself to the tuition and defence thereof ; which provocation and appeal I had under authentic writings then with me, to show for that purpose. And herewithal I drew out the said writing, showing his said Holiness that I brought tbe same in proof of the premises, and that his Holiness might see and perceive aU the sarae. The pope hHving this for a breakfast, only pulled down his head to his shoulders, after the Italian fashion, and said that because he was as then fully ready to go into the consistory, 1 Burnet, Collectanea, p. .436. 154 Bonner and the Pope. [Ch, vu. he would not tarry to hear or see the said writings, but willed rae to come at afternoon," The afternoon came, and Bonner returned, and was The king's admitted. There was sorae conversation uvered'to'^' upon indifferent matters ; the pope making the pope. good-natured inquiries about Bennet, and speaking warmly and kindly of him, " Presently," Bonner continues, " falling out of that, he said that he marvelled your Highness would use his Holiness after such sort as it appears ye did, I said that your Highness no less did marvel that his Holiness having found so much benevolence and kindness .it your hands in all tiraes past, would for acquittal show such unkindness as of late he did. And here we en tered in communication upon two points : one was that his Holiness, having committed in times past, and in most ample forra, the cause into the realm, promising not to revoke the said commission, and over that, to confirm the process and sentence ofthe commissaries, should not at the point of sentence have advoked the cause, retaining it at Rome — forasmuch as Rome was a place whither your Highness could not, ne yet ought, personally to come unto, and also was not bimnd to send thither your proctor. The second point was, that your Highness's cause being, in the opinion of the best learned men in Christendom, approved good and just, and so [in] many ways known unto his, HoUness, the same should not so long have retained it in his hands without judgment, " His Holiness answering the same, as touching the first point, said that if the queen (meaning the late wife of Prince Arthur, calUng her always in his conver sation the queen) had not given an oath refusing the judges as suspect, he would not have advoked the mat- 1888.] Bonner and the Pope. 165 ter at all, but been content that it should have been determined and ended in your realm. But seeing she gave that oath, appeaUng also to his court, he might and ought to hear her, his promise made to your High ness, which was qualified, notwithstanding. As touch ing the second point, his Holiness said that your High ness only was the default thereof, because ye would not send a proxy to the cause. These matters, how ever, he said, had been many times fully talked upon at Rome ; and therefore [he] willed me to omit further communication thereupon, and to proceed to the doing of such things that I was specially sent for, " Whereupon making protestation of your Highness's mind and intent towards the see apostolic — not intend ing anything to do in contempt of the same — I exhib ited unto his Holiness the commission which your Highness had sent unto me ; and his Holiness deliver ing it to the datary, commanded him to read it ; and hearing in the same the words (referring to the injuries which he had done to your Highness), he began to look up after a new sort, and said, ' O questo et multo vero ! (this is much true !) ' meaning that it was not true indeed. And verily, sure not only in this, but also in many parts of the said commission, he showed himself grievously offended; insomuch that, when those words, ' To the next general council which shall be lawfiiUy held in place convenient,' were read, he fell in a marvellous great choler and rage. The pope's not only declaring the same by his gesture '¦°^''- and manner, but also by words : speaking with great vehemence, and saying, ' Why did not the king, when I wrote to my nuncio this year past, to speak unto him for this geaeral council, give no answer unto my said nuncio, but referred bim for answer to the French 156 Bonner and the Pope. fCn. vii king ? at what time he might perceive by my doing, that I was very well disposed, and much spake for it.' ' The thing so standing, now to speak of a general council ! Oh, good Lord ! but well ! his commission and all his other writings cannot be but welcome unto me ; ' which words raethought he spake wUling to hide bis choler, and raake me beUeve that he was nothing angry viith their doings, when in very deed I perceived, by many arguraents, that it was otherwise. And one among others was taken here for infallible with them that knoweth the pope's conditions, that he was contin ually folding up and unwinding of his handkerchief, which he never doth but when he is tickled to the very heart with great choler," At length the appeal was read through ; and at the close of it Francis entered, and talked to the pope for some time, but in so low a voice that Bonner could not liear what was passing. When he had gone, his Holi ness said that he would deliberate upon the appeal with the consistory, and after hearing their judgments would return his answer. Three days passed, and then the English agent was informed that he might again present himself The pope had recovered his calmness. When he had time to collect himself, Clement could speak well and with dignity ; and if we could forget that his conduct was substantially unjust, and that in his conscience he knew it tj be unjust, he would almost persuade us to believe him honest, " He said," wrote Bonner, " that his mind towards your Highness always had been to min ister justice, and to do pleasure to you ; albeit it hath not been so taken : and he never unjustly grieved your Grace that he knoweth, nor intendeth hereafter to do. As concerning the appeal, he said that, forasmuch as 1633.] The Pope rejects the Appeal. 157 there was a constitution of Pope Pius, his predecessor, that did condemn and reprove all such appeals, he did therefore reject your Grace's appeal as friv- ,^^^ ^^p^j^, olous, forbidden, and unlawful," As touch- '= '''=•'""""*¦ ing the council, he said generally, that he would do his best that it should meet ; but it was to be understood that the calling a general council belonged to him, and not to the King of England, • The audience ended, and Bonner left the pope con vinced that he intended, on his return to Rome, to execute the censures and continue the process without delay. That the sentence which he would pronounce would be against the king appeared equally certain. It appeared certain, yet after all no certain conclu sion is possible, Francis I,, though not choos- yetouBou- ing to quarrel with the see of Rome to do a ^e'oSent" pleasure to Henry, was anxious to please his jrancis that ally to the extent of his convenience ; at any England's"' rate, he would not have gratuitously deceived "='"»8'^"J«6'. him ; and still less would he have been party to an act of deliberate treachery. When Bonner was gone he had a last interview with the pope, in which he urged upon him the necessity of complying with Henry's de mands ; and the pope on this occasion said And if he that he was satisfied that the King of England roknowfcdge was right ; that his cause was good ; and that lu^thori'ty, he had only to acknowledge the papal juris- senton'ofta diction by some forraal act, to find sentence '"^f''™"'^- immediately pronounced in his favour. Except for his precipitation, and his refusal to depute a proxy to plead for him, his wishes would have been complied with long before. In the existing posture of affairs, and after the measures which had been passed in England with respect to the see of Rome, he himself, the pope 158 Proposal for a Court to sit at Cambray. [Ch. vn said, could not make advances without some kind of submission ; but a single act of acknowledgment was all which he required,^ Extraordinary as it must seera, the pope certainly Wasthepope bound himsclf by this engagemeiit: and who treacherous? can tell with what intention ? To believe weak. hira sincere and to beUeve him false seems equally impossible. If he was persuaded that Henry's cause was good, why did he in the following year pro nounce finally for Catherine ? why had he imperiUed so needlessly the interests of the papacy in Engl3,nd ? why had his conduct from the beginning pointed stead ily to the conclusion at which he at last arrived ? and why throughout Europe were the ultramontane party, to a raan, on Catherine's side ? On the other hand, Let ua try to what objcct at such a time can be conceived charitably, for falsehood ? Can we suppose that he de signed to dupe Henry into subraission by a promise which he had predeterrained to break ? It is hard t( suppose even Clement capable of so elaborate an act of perfidy ; and it is, perhaps, idle to waste conjectures on the motives of a weak, rauch-agitated man. He was, probably, but giving a fresh example of his disposition to say at each moraent whatever would be most agree able to his hearers. This was his unhappy habit, by which he earned for himself a character for dishonesty, I labour to think, but half deserved. If, however, Clement meant to deceive, he succeeded. Proposal undoubtedlv, in deceiving the French king. thatthe , , '' , , ° tt i l cause should Jb raucis, IU coraraumcatiug to Henry the lan- bs reffirred o »/ to a commis- guRgc which the pope had used, entreated Bion, to sit 1 , , , , . , , rri, , at Cambray. him to rcconsidcr his resolution, ihe ob jection to pleadi].ig at Rome raight be overcome ; for 1 Letter of the King of France • Legrand, Vol. III. Reply of Heniy: Foxe, Vol. V. p. 110. 1533.] Francis emplores Henry to consent. 159 the pope would meet him in a middle course. Judges could be appointed, who should sit at Canibray, and pass a sentence in condemnation of the original mar riage ; with a definite promise that their sentence should not again be called in question. To this ar rangement there could be no reasonable objection ; and Francis implored that a proposal so liberal should not be rejected. Sufficient danger already threatened Christendom, from heretics within and from the Tutks without ; and although the EngUsh parliament were agreed to raaintain the second marriage, it was unwise to provoke the displeasure of foreign princes. To aUow time for the prehminary arrangements, the exe cution of the censures had been further postponed ; and if Henry would make up the quarrel, the French monarch was commissioned to offer a league, offensive and defensive, between England, France, and the Pa pacy, He himself only desired to be faithful to his engagements to his good brother ; and as a Francis im- proof of his good faith, he said that he had to consent. been offered the Duchy of Milan, if he would look on whUe the emperor and the pope attacked England, ^ This language bears aU the character of sincerity , and when we remember that it followed immediately upon a close and intimate communication of three weeks with Clement, it is not easy to beUeve that he 1 Commission of the Bishop of Paris: Legrand, Veil. III. ; Burnet, Vol. III. p. 128; Foxe, Vol. V. p. 106-111. The commission of tbe Bishop of Bayonne is not explicit on the extent to which the pope had bound liimself with respect to tbe sentence. Yet either in some other despatch, or ver bally through the Bishop, Francis certainly informed Henry that the Pope had promised that sentence should be given in his favour. We shall find Henr jf assuming this in his reply ; and the Archbishop of York declared to Catherine that the pope "said at Marseilles, that if his Grace would send a proxy thither he would give sentence for his Highness against her, because that he knew his cause to be good and j ast." — Siate Ptpers, Vol. I p. 421 160 Henry refuses [Ch.vu. could have mistaken the extent of the pope's promises. We may suppose Clement for the moraent to have been honest, or wavering between honesty and falsehood; we may suppose further that Francis trusted him he- cause it was undesirable to be suspicious, in the belief that he was discharging the duty of a friend to Henry and of a friend to the church, in offering to mediate ujiun these terms. But Henry was far advanced beyond the point at suspitious which fair words could move him. He had Df Henry. trusted many tiraes, and had been many times deceived. It was not easy to entangle him again. It mattered little whether Clement was weak or false; the result was the same — he could not be trusted. To an open English understanding there was something His disgust monstrous in the position of a person profess- withClem- . .ii i-ii ent. mg to be a judge, who admitted that a cause which lay before him was so clear that he could bind himself to a sentence upon it, and could yet refuse to pronouncethat sentence, except upon conditions. It was scarcely for the interests of justice to leave the distribution of it in hands so questionable. Instead, therefore, of coming forward, as Francis hoped, instead of consenting to entangle himself again in the meshes of diplomatic intrigue, the king returned a peremptory refusal. The Duke of Norfolk, and such of the councU as dreaded the completion of the schism, assured d'lnte- ville, the French ambassador, that for themselves tbey considered Francis was doing the best for England which could be done, and that they deprecated violent measures as much as possible ; but in all this party there was a secret leaning to Queen Catherine, a dis like of Queen Anne and the whole Boleyn race, and a 1633.] to revoke the Laws against the Papacy. 161 private nope and belief that the pope would after aU be firm. Their tongues were therefore tied. They durst not speak except alone in whispers fo each other , and the French ambassador, who did dare, only drew from Henry a more determined expression of his reso lution. As to his measures in England, the king said, the pope had begun the quarrel by issuing censures and liy refusing to admit his reasons for declining to plead at Rome, He was required to send a proctor, and was told that the cause should be decided in favour of whichever party was so represented there. For the sake of all other princes as well as himself, he would send no proctor, nor would he seera to acquiesce in the pretences of the papal see. The King of France told him that the pope admitted the justice of his cause. Let the pope do justice, then. The laws passed in par liament were for the benefit of the coraraonwealth, and he would never revoke them. He demanded no rep aration, and could raake no reparation. He asked only for his right, and if he could not obtain it, he had ¦ God and truth on his side, and that was enough. In' _vain d'InteviUe answered feebly, that his master had done all that was in his power ; the king replied that the French councU wished to entangle him with the pope ; but for his own part he would never more ac knowledge the pope in his pretended capacity. He might be bishop of Rome, or pope also, if he preferred the name ; but the see of Rome should have no more jurisdiction in England, and he thought he would be none the worse Christian on that account, but rather the better, Jesus Christ he would acknowledge, and him only, as the true Lord of Christian men, and Christ's word only should be preached in England. VOL. II. 11 162 State of England. [Ch. vn. The Spaniards might invade him as they threatened. He did not fear them. They might come, but they might not find it so easy to return,^ The King had taken his position and was prepared for the consequences. He had foreseen for more than a year the possibility of an attempted invasion ; and since his marriage, he had been aware that the chances of success in the adventure had been discussed on thr. Continent by tbe papal and imperial party. The pope had spoken of his censures being enforced, and Fran cis had revealed to Henry the nature of the dangerous overtures which had been made to himself. The Lu theran princes had hurriedly declined to connect them selves in any kind of alliance with England ; and on the 25th of September, Stephen Vaughan had reported that troops were being raised in Germany, which ru mour destined for Catherine's service,^ Ireland, too, as we shall hear in the next chapter, was on the verge of an insurrection, which had been fomented by papal agents. Nevertheless, there was no real danger from an in- Theoondi- vasiou, uuless it was accompanied with an tions under jnsurrectiou at home, or with a simultaneous which mva- ' sion might attack from Scotland ; and while of the first be danger- ' ous. there appeared upon the surface no probabil ity, with Scotland a truce for a year had been con cluded on the 1st of October,^ The king, therefore, Apparent had felt himsclf reasonablv secure, Pariia- tranquillity .•' of England, ment had seemed unanimous ; the clergy 1 MS. Bibl. Imp^r. Paris.— The Pilgrim, pp. 97, 98. Cf. Foxe, Vol. V. p. 110. 2 I hear of a number of Gelders which be lately reared ; and the opinion of the people here is that they shall go into England. All men there speak evil of England, and threaten it in their foolish manner. — Vaughan to Cromwell : State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 511. * Kymer, Vol. VI. part 2, p. 189. 1533.] State of England. 163 were submissive ; the nation acquiescent or openly ap proving ; ^ and as late as the beginning of November, 1533, no suspicion seems to have been entertained of the spread of serious disaffection, A great internal rev olution had been accomplished ; a conflict of centu- ri.9s between the civU and spiritual powers had been terminated without a life lost or a blow struck. Par tial murmurs there had been, but murmurs were inev itable, and, so far as the government yet knew, were harmless. The Scotch war had threatened to be dan gerous, but it had been extinguished. Impatient monks had denounced the king from the pulpits, and disloyal language had been reported from other quarters, which had roused vigilance, but had not created alarm. The Nun of Kent had forced herself into the royal pres ence with menacing prophecies ; but she had appeared to be a harraless dreamer, who could only be made of importance by punishment. The surface of the nation was in profound repose, Cromwell, like Walsingham after him, may perhaps have known of the fire which was smouldering below, and have watched it silently tiU the moment came at which to trample it out ; but no symptom of uneasiness appears either in the con duct of the government or in the official correspond ence. The organization of the friars, the secret com munication of the Nun with Catherine and the Prin cess Mary, with the papal nuncio, or with noble lords ^ Parties were so divided in England that lookers-on who reported xny one sentiment as general there, reported in fact by their own wish^ md sympathies. D'InteviUe, the French ambassador, a strong Catholic, de clares the feeling to have been against the revolt. Chastillon, on the other hand, writing at the same time from the same place (for he had returned from France, and was present with d'InteviUe at the last interview), says, " The King has made up his mind to a complete separation from Bome and the lords and the majority of the people go along with him." — Cluu- tillon to the Bishop of Paris : The Pilgrim, p. 99. 164 State of England. [Cii. vn. and reverend bishops, was either unknown, or the character of those communications was not suspected,' The Nun of That & scrious political conspiracy should have spiracy. shaped itsclf round the ravings of a seeming lunatic, to all appearance had not occurred as a possi bility to a single member of the council, except to those whose silence was ensured by their complicity. So far as we are able to trace the story (for the The first links of the chain which led to the discovery occasion of , , i - i • i suspicion. of the designs which were entertamed, are something imperfect) , the suspicions of the government were first roused in the following manner : Queen Catherine, as we have already seen, had been called upon, at the coronation of Anne Boleyn, to renounce her title, and she had refused, Mary had been simUarly deprived of her rank as princess ; but either her disgrace was held to be involved"in that of her raother, or some other cause, perhaps the absence of immediate necessity, had postponed the demand for her own personal submission. As, however, on the publication of the second marriage, it had been urged on Catherine that there could not be two queens in On the birth England, so on the birth of the Princess Eliz- of Elizabeth, , , , • j 1. the Princess abeth, an analogous argument required tne called upon disinheritance of Mary, It was a hard her title. thing ; but her mother's conduct oHiged the king to be peremptory. She might have been legiti matized by act of parliament, if Catherine would have submitted. The consequences of Catherine's refusal might be cruel, but they were unavoidable, Mary was not with her mother. It had been held desirable to remove her from an influence which would encourag(? her in a useless opposition ; and she was re siding at Beaulieu, afterwards New HaU, in Essex, 1533.] The Princess Mary. 165 under the care of Lord Hussey and the Countess of Salisbury, Lord Hussey was a dangerous guardian , he was subsequently executed for his complicity in the Pilgrimage of Grace, the avowed object of which was the restoration of Mary to her place as heir-apparent. We may believe, therefore, that while under his sur- vtUlance she experienced no severe restraint, nor re ceived that advice with respect to her conduct which prudence would have dictated. Lord Hussey, however, for the present enjoyed the confidence of the king, and was directed to inform his charge, that for the future she was to consider herself not as princess, but as the king's natural daughter, the Lady Mary Tudor, The message was a painful one ; painful, we will hope, more on her mother's account than on her own ; but her an swer implied that, as yet, Henry VIII, was no object of especial terror to his children, "Her Grace replied," wrote Lord Hussey to the council in comraunicating the result of his She replies undertaking,^ that "she could not a little and violently. marvel that I being alone, and not associate with some other the king's most honourable council, nor yet suffi ciently authorized neither by commission nor by any other writing from the King's Highness, would attempt to declare such a high enterprise and raatter of no lit tle weight and importance unto her Grace, in dirainish- ing her said estate and name ; her Grace not doubting that she is the king's true and legitimate daughter and heir procreate iu good and lawful matrimony ; [and] further adding, that unless she wore advertised from his Highness by his writing that his Grace was so minded to diminish her estate, name, and dignity, which she trust- •th his Highness will never do, she would not belie ve it." 1 Strype, Eccles. Memor.,Y6\. I. p. 224. 166 The Princess Mary. [Cn.vn. Inasmuch as Mary was but sixteen at this time, the resolution which she displayed in sending such a mes sage was coKoiderable, The early English held almost Roman notions on the nature of parental authority, and the tone of a child to a father was usually that of the raost subraissive reverence. Nor was she contented with replying indirectly through her guardian. She She writes to wrotc hcrsclf to the king, saying that she the king iu a , , . , IJ • 1, ¦ similar tone, neither couid nor would in her conscience' think the contrary, but that she was his lawful daugh ter born in true matrimony, and that she thought that he in his own conscience did judge the same,^ Such an attitude in so young a girl was singular, yet not necessarily censurable, Henry was not her only parent, and if we suppose her to have been actuated by affection for her mother, her conduct may appeal not pardonable only, but spirited and creditable. In insisting upon her legitimacy, nevertheless, she was not only asserting the good name and fame of Catherine of Arragon, but unhappily her own claim to the suc cession to the throne. It was natural that under the circumstances she should have felt her right to assert that claim ; for the injury which she had suffered was patent not only to herself, but to Europe, Catherine might have been required to give way that the king might have a son, and that the succession might be established in a prince ; but so long as the child of the second marriage was a daughter only, it seemed sub stantially monstrous to set aside the elder for the younger. Yet the measure was a harsh necessit;^ ; a link in the chain which could not be broken. The har.assed nation insisted above all things that no doubt 1 Instructions to the Earls of Oxford, Essex, and Sussex, to remonstralt with the Lady Mary : RoUs House MS. 1633.] The Princess Mary. 167 should hang over the future, and it was impossible in the existing complications to recognise the daughter of Catherine without excluding Elizabeth, and excluding the prince who was expected to follow her. By assert ing her title, Mary was making herself the Danger to nucleus of sedition, which on her father's of siTry^at death would lead to a convulsion in the *''"''°' realm. She might not mean it, but the result would not be affected by a want of purpose in herself; and it was possible that her resolution might create iramediate and far more painful complications. The king's excom munication was imminent, and if the censures were enforced by the emperor, she would be thrust into the unpermitted position of her father's rival. The political consequences of her conduct, notwith standing, although evident to statesmen, raight well be concealed frora a headstrong, passionate girl, ¦ There was no suspicion that she herself was encouraging any of these dangerous thoughts, and Henry The king looked upon her answer to Lord Hussey and ^petulant*" her letter to himself as expressions of petulant "'""'" folly. Lord Oxford, the Earl of Essex, and the Earl of Sussex were directed to repair to Beaulieu, and ex plain to her the situation in which she had placed her self " Considering," wrote the king to them, " how highly fidch contempt and rebellion done by our Hisietterex- daughter and her servants doth touch not her the true , , o -I 1 nature of her only us, and the surety of our honour and position, person, but also the tranquUlity of our realm ; and not minding to suffer the pernicious exaraple hereof to spread far abroad, but to put remedy to the same in due time, we have given you coramandment to declare to her the great folly, temerity, and indiscretion that 168 Qv^en Catherine. [Cava she hath used hei ein, with the peril she hath incurred by reason of her so doing. By these her ungodly do ings hitherto she hath most worthUy deserved our high indignation and displeasure, and thereto no less pain and punition than by the order of the laws of our realm doth appertain in case of high treason, unless our niercy and clemency should be shewed in that behalf. [If, however, after] understanding our mind and pleasure, [she will] conform herself humbly and obedi ently to the observation of the same, according to the office and duty of a natural daughter, and of a true and faithful subject, she may give us cause hereafter to in cline our fatherly pity to her reconciliation, her benefit and advancement," ^ The reply of Mary to this message is not discovera ble ; but it is certain that she persisted in her resolu tion, and clung either to her mother's " cause " or to her own rank and privilege, in sturdy defiance of her father. To punish her insubordination or to tolerate it was equally difficult ; and the government might have been in serious embarrassment had not a series of dis coveries, foUowing rapidly one upon the other, explained the mystery of these proceedings, and opened a view with alarming clearness into the undercurrents of the feeling of the country. Information from time to time had reached Henry Correspond- from Rome, relating to the correspondence QuMn^cIth" between Catherine and the pope. Perhaps, CoSrt of" too, he knew how assiduously she had impor- the^Emt""* tuned the emperor to force Clement to a de- '*''"¦ cision.^ No effort, however, had been hitherto 1 Instructions (o the Earls of Oxford, Essex, and Sussex, to remonstrati with the Lady Mary : Rolls House MS. * On the I5th of November, Queen Catherine wrote to the Empeiot 1633.J Queen Catherine. 16& made to interfere with her hospitalities, or to obUge her visitors to submit to scrutiny before they could be ad mitted to her presence. She was the mistress of her own court and of her own actions ; and confidential agents, both from Rome, Brussels, and Spain, had un doubtedly passed and repassed with reciprocal instruc tions and directions. The crisis which was clearly approaching had obliged Henry, in the course of this autumn, to be more watchful ; and about the end of October, or the be ginning of November,! ^-^q friars were re- Twosuspi- , , . , Tl 1 1 clous friars ported as having been at Bugden, whose at Bugden, movements attracted suspicion frora their anxiety to escape observation. Secret agents of the governraent, who had been " set " for the purpose, followed the fi-iars to London, and notwithstanding " many wiles and cautells by them invented to escape," the suspected and after congratulating him on his successes against the Turks, she con tinued, " And as our Lord in his mercy has worked so great a good for Christen dom by your Highness's hands, so has he enlightened also his Holiness ; and I and all this realm have now a sure hope that, with the grace of God, his Holiness will slay this second Turk, this affair between the King my Lord and me. Second Turk, I call it, from the misfortunes which, through his Holiness's long delay, have grown out of it, and are now so vast and of so ill example that I know not whether this or the Turk be the worst. Sorry am I to have been compelled to importune your Majesty so often in this matter, for sure I am you do not need my pressing. But I see delay t»,be so calamitous, my own life is so unquiet and so painful, and the op portunity to make an end now so convenient, that it seems as if God of his goodness had brought his Holiness and your Majesty together to bring about so great a good. I am forced to be importunate, and 1 implore your Highness for the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, that in return for the signal benefits which God each day is heaping on you, you will accom^ish for me this great blessing, and bring his Holiness to a decision. Let him remember what he promised you at Bologna. The truth here is known, and he will thus destroy the hopes of those who persuade the King my Lord that he will never pass judgment." — Queen Catherine to Charles V. : MS. Bimancas, November 15, 1633. 1 Letter to the King, giving an account of certam Friars Observants wha had been about the Princess Dowager: Rolls House MS. 170 The Nun of Kent. [Oh. vii, persons were arrested and brought before Cromwell. "Followed" Cromwell "upon examination, could gather arrested, and nothing from them of any moment or great probably tor- , 5 j i / . • p i tured. importance ; but, " entering on further com munication," he said " he found one of them a very seditious person, and so committed them to ward." The king was absent from London, but had left directions that, in the event of any iraportant occur rence of the kind. Archbishop Cranmer should be sent for ; but Cranmer not being immediately at hand, Cromwell wrote to Henry for instructions ; inasmuch as, he said, " it is undoubted that they (the monks) have intended, and would confess, some great matter, if they might be exarnined as they ought to be — that is to say, by pains," The curtain hfere falls over the two prisoners ; we do not know whether they were tortured, whether they confessed, or what they confessed ; but we may natu rally connect this letter, directly or indirectly, with the events which immediately followed. In the middle of Conspiracy, November we find a commission sitting at Princess Lambcth, composed of CromweU, Cranmer, implicated, and Latimer, ravelling out the threads of a the Kmg. story, from which, when the whole was disen tangled, it appeared that by Queen Catherine, the Princeso Mary, and a large and formidable party in the country, the king, on tbe faith of a pretended revela tion, was supposed to have forfeited the crown; that his death, either by visitation of God or by visitation of man, was daily expected ; and that whether his death took place or not, a revolution was immediately looked for, which would place the princess on the throne. The Nun of Kent, as we remember, had declared that if Henry persisted in his resolution of marrying 1833.] The Nun of Kent. 171 Anne, she was commissioned by God to tell him that he should lose his power and authoritv. She Prophecies ,1 -nil ¦ 1 • 1 , of the Nun had not specifaed the manner m which the of Kent. sentence would be carried into effect against him. The form of her threats had been also varied occasion ally ; she said that he should die, but whether by the hands of his subjects, or by a providential judgment, she left to conjecture ; ^ and the period within which his punishment was to fall upon him was stated • 1 1 • o Ol 1 1 December. variously at one month or at six,'^ She had attempted no secresy with these prophecies ; she had confined herself in appearance to words ; and the pub licity which she courted having prevented suspicion of secret conspiracy, Henry quietly accepted the issue, and left the truth of the prophecy to be confuted by the event. He married. The one month passed ; the six months passed ; eight — nine months. His child was born and was baptized, and no divine thunder had in terposed ; only a mere harmless verbal thunder, from a poor old man at Rome, The illusion, as he imagined, had been lived down, and had expired of its own vanity. But the Nun and her friar advisers were counting on other methods of securing the fulfilment of the prophecy than supernatural assistance. It is remarka ble that, hypocrites and impostors as they knew them selves to be, they were not without a half belief that some supernatural intervention was imminent ; but the career on which they had entered was too fasci- ¦• We remember the Northern prophecy, " In England shall be slaiitthe decorate Rose in his mother's belly," which the monks of Furness inter preted as meaning that " the King's Grace should die by the hands of priests." —Vol. I. cap. 4. 2 Statutes of the Realm, 25 Henry VIII. cap. 12. State Papers relating to Ehzabeth Barton: RoUs House MS. Prior of Christ Chm-ch, Canter bury, to CromweU • Suppression of ihe Monasteries, p. 20. 172 The Nun of Kent. [Ch. vn nating to allow them to forsake it when their expecta* The Nun ^^^^ failed them, Tbey were swept into the I'nd'haif h"- stream which was swelling to resist the Ref- seif deceived, ormatiou, and allowed themselves to be hur ried forward either to victory or to destruction. The first revelation being apparently confuted hy facts, a second was produced as an interpretation of it ; which, however, was not published Uke the other, but whispered in secret to persons whose dispositions were known ,^ " When the King's Grace," says the report of the On the faU- Commissioners, " had continued in good health, first''pr^'Jih- - honour, and prosperity more than a month, Dr, ^retationS'^ Bocldng shcwcd the said Nun, that as King a'peruouf "^ Saul, abjccted from his kingdom by God, yet The'iiing is Continued king in the sight of the world, 'so brinthecon- her Said revelations might be taken. And after^Ms re"' therefore the said Nun, upon this information, jection. fiji-ged another revelation, that her words should be understanded to mean that the King's Grace should not be king in the reputation or acceptation of God, not one raonth or one hour after that he raarried the Queen's Grace that now is. The first revelation had moved a great number of the. king's subjects, both high and low, to grudge against the said marriage be fore it was concluded and perfected ; and also induced such as were stiffiy bent against that marriage, daily to look for the destruction of the King's Grace within a month after he raarried the Queen's Grace ths.t now 1 Thus Cromwell writes to Fisher : " My Lord, [the outward evidences that she was speaking truth] moved you not to give credence to her, but enly the very matter whereupon she made her false prophecies, to which matter ye were so affected — as ye be noted to be on all matters which ys once enter into — that nothing could come amiss that made for that pnr pose." — Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 30. 1583.] The Nun of Kent. 173 is. And when they were deluded in that expectation, the second revelation was devised not only as an inter pretation of the former, but to the intent to induce the king's subjects to beUeve that God took the King's Grace for no king of this realm ; and that they shoula likewise take him for no righteous king, and themselves not bounden to be his subjects ; which might have put the King and the Queen's Grace in jeopardy of their crown and of their issue, and the people of this realm in great danger of destruction," ^ It was no light matter to pronounce the king to be in the position of Saul after his rejection ; and read by the Ught of the impending excommunication, the Nun's words could mean nothing but treason. The speaker herself was in correspondence with the pope ; she had attested her divine commission by miracles, and had been recognised as a saint by an Archbishop of Canterbury ; the regular orders of the clergy through out the realm were known to regard her as inspired ; and when the commission recollected that the king was threatened further with dying " a villain's death " ; and that these and similar prophecies were care- 5,,^^ prophe- fully written out, and were in private cir- f^^ I'^re?'^ culation through the country, the matter as- fn'™^ritt?B sumed a dangerous complexion : it became at *'™' once essential to ascertain how far, and among what classes of the state, these things had penetrated. The Friars Mendicant were discovered to be in .^^ 5.^^^^ league with her, and these itinerants were Mendicant. ready-made missionaries of sedition. They had priv ilege of vagrancy without check or limit ; and ow ing to their universal distribution and the freemasonry Bmong themselves, the secret disposition of every fam 1 Papers rela.ting to the Nun of Kent: RoUs House MS. 174 The Nun of Kent. [Ch, vn. ily in England was intimately known to them. No movement, therefore, could be securely overlooked m which these orders had a share ; the country might be vindermined in secret ; and the governraent raight only learn their danger at the moment of explosion. No sooner, therefore, were the commissioners in pos- irrest of the sessiou of the general facts, than the principal Kunandflve . ° , -kt i ip i monks. parties — that is to say, the JNun herself and five of the monks of Christ Church at Canterbury — with whom her intercourse was most constant, were sent to the Tower to be " examined," — the monks it is likely by " torture," if they could not otherwise be brought to confession. The Nun was certainly not tortured. On her first arrest, she was obstinate in maintaining her prophetic character ; and she was de tected in sending messages to her friends, " to animate them to adhere to her and to her prophecies," ^ But her courage ebbed away under the hard reality of her She con- positiou. She soon made a fiiU confession, in fesses. which her accomplices joined her ; and the half-completed web of conspiracy was ravelled out. They did not attempt to conceal that they had intended, if possible, to create an insurrection. The five monks — A Ust is ob- Father Becking, Father Rich, Father Rys- rer^ns^iho" ^Ji Father Bering, and Father Goold — had Si wito" assisted the Nun in inventing her " Reve- ''"• lations " ; and as apostles, they had travelled about the country to communicate them in whatever quarters they were likely to be welcome. When we remember that Archbishop Warham had been a dupe of this woman, and that even Wolsey's experience and abiUty had not prevented him from believing in her power, we are not surprised to find high names among 1 Papers relating to the Nun of Kent: Rolls House MS. 1833.] The Nun of Kent. 175 those who were impUcatel, Vast nurabers of abbots and priors, and of regular and secular clergy, had Us- tened eagerly ; country gentlemen also, and London merchants. The Bishop of Rochester had " wept for joy " at the first utterances of the inspired prophetess ; and Sir Thomas More, " who at first did little regard the said revelations, afterwards did greatly rejoice to hear of them," ^ We learn, also, that the Nun had continued to communicate with " the Lady Princess Dowager " and " the Lady Mary, her daughter." ^ These were names which might have ftirnished cause for regret, but little for surprise or alarm. The com missioners must have found occasion for other feelings, however, when among the persons implicated were found the Countess of Salisbury and the TheCountess Mkrchioness of Exeter, with their chaplains, and the Mar- households, and servants ; Sir Thomas Arun- uxeter. del. Sir George Carew, and " many of the nobles of England," ^ A combination headed by the Countess of SaUsbury, if she were supported even by a small sec tion of the nobility, would under any circumstances have been dangerous ; and if such a corabination was formed in support of an invasion, and was backed by the blessings of the pope and the fanaticism of the clergy, the result might be serious indeed. So careful a sUence is observed in the official papers on Danger of a this feature of the Nun's conspiracy, that it is eontederac" uncertain how far the countess had commit- papafsaiw- ted herself; but she had Ustened certainly to '""^i 1 Papers relating to the Nun of Kent. a 25 Hen. VHI. cap. 12. ' Papers relating to the Nun of Kent: Rolls Bouse MS. 25 Hen. VIH, cap. 12. The " many " nobles are not more particularly designated in tha official papers. It was not desirable to mention names when the offence Wis to be passed over. 176 The Nun of Kent. [Cavn, avowals of treasonable uitentions without reveahng them, which of itself was no slight evidence of disloy alty ; and that the government were really alarmed may be gathered from the simultaneous arrest of Sir \rre«t of the William and Sir George Neville, the brothers Ntiviues. QJ? Lord Latimer. The connexion and sig- nifi..'ance of these names I shall explain presently ; in Mic meantirae I return to the preparations which had Leen made by the Nun, As the final judgment drew near, — which, unless the king submitted, would be accompanied with excom munication, and- a declaration that the English nation was absolved from allegiance, — " the said false Nun," says the report, " surmised herself to have raade a pe tition to God to know, when fearful war should come, whether any man should take my Lady Mary's part or The Nun "o » ^ud shc feigned herself to have answer tStS™ by revelation that no man should fear but ^oui?Se tb^^ ^^^ should have succour and help enough ; ae'timewaa ^ud that UO man should put her from her come. right that she was born unto. And petition ing next to know when it was the pleasure of God that her revelations should be put forth to the world, she had answer that knowledge should be given to her ghostly father when it should be time," ^ With this information Father Goold had hastened niMites"irit'h down to Bugdeu, encouraging Catherine to Queen Cath- persevere in her resistance ; ^ and whUe the enne, r ' 1 Report of the Commissioners — Papers relating to the Nun of Kent; RoUs House MS. 2 Goold, says the Act of the Nun's attainder, travelled to Bugden, " to animate the said Lady Princess to make commotion in the realm against our sovereign lord ; surmitting that the said Nun should hear by revelation of God that the said Lady Catherine should prosper and do well, and that her issue, the Lady Mary, should prosper and reign in the realm." — 2* Henry VIII cap. 13. 1633.] The Nun of Kent. 177 imperialists at Rome were pressing the pope for sen tence (we cannot doubt at Catherine's instance), the Nun had placed herself in readiness to seize the op portunity when it offered, and to blow the trumpet of insurrection in the panic which might be surely looked for when that sentence should be published. For this purpose she had organized, with consider able skill, a corps of fanatical friars, who, when Andcrgan- , , , , . , ., Izes a corps the Signal was given, were simultaneously to offtiars to throw themselves into the midst of the peo- surrectson. pie, and call upon them to rise in the name of God. " To the intent," says the report, " to set forth this matter, certain spiritual and religious persons were appointed, as they had been chosen of God, to preach the false revelations of the said Nun, when the time should reqmre, if warning were given them ; and some of these preachers have confessed openly, and sub scribed their names to their confessions, that if the Nun had so sent them word, they would have preached to the king's subjects that the pleasure of God was that they should take him no longer for their king ; and some of these preachers were such as gave themselves to great fasting, watching, long prayers, wearing of shirts of hair and great chains of iron about their mid dle, whereby the people had them in high estimation of their great holiness, — and this strait life they took on them by the counsel and exhortation of the said Nun," 1 Here, then, was the explanation of the attitude of Catherine and Mary, Smarting under injus- pj^t q^^-^^- tice„and most naturally blending their private "° "-e^o"- quarrel with the cause of the church, they had listened to these disordered visions as to a message from heaven, 1 Report ofthe Proceedings ofthe Nun of Kent: BoUs Bome MS. VOL. IL 12 178 State of Feeling in England. [Cu, va and they had lent themselves to the first of those relig ious conspiracies which held England in chronic agita tion for three quarters of a century. The innocent Saint at Bugden was the forerunner of the prisoner at Fotheringay ; and the Observant friars, with their chain girdles and shirts of hair, were the antitypes of Parsons and Campion, How critical the situation of England reaUy was, appears from the following letter of the French ambassador. The project for the mar riage of the Princess Mary with the Dauphin had been revived by the Catholic party ; and a private arrange ment, of which this marriage was to form the connect ing link, was contemplated between the Ultramontanes in France, the pope, and the emperor. D'InteviUe to Cardinal Tournon.^ " My Lokd, — You willbe so good as to tell the Most Christian king that the emperor's ambassador has communicated with the old queen. The emperor sends a message to her and to her daughter, that he wiU not return to Spain till he has seen them restored to their rights, " The people are so much attached to the said ladies that they will rise in rebellion, and join any prince who will undertake their quarrel. You probably know from other quarters the intensity of this feeling. It is shared by all classes, high and low, and penetrates even into the royal household, " The nation is in marvellous discontent. Every one .mt the relations of the present queen, is indignant on the ladies' account. Some fear the overthrow of religion ; others fear war and injury to trade. Up to 1 MS. Bibliot. Imp^r., Paris. The letter is undated, (t was apparently written in the autumu of 1533. 1633.] State of Feeling in England. 179 this time, the cloth, hides, wool, lead, and other mer chandize of England have found markets in Flanders, Spain, and Italy ; now it is thought navigation will be so dangerous that English merchants must equip their ships for war if they trade to foreign countries ; and besides the risk of losing all to the eneray, the expense of the armament wiU swaUow the profits of the voyage. In like manner, the emperor's subjects and the pope's subjects will not be able to trade with England, The 3oasts wiU be blockaded by the ships of the emperor and his allies ; and at this moment raen's fears are aggravated by the unseasonable weather throughout the summer, and the failure of the crops. There is not cofn enough for half the ordinary consumption, " The coramon people, foreseeing these inconven iences, are so violent against the queen, that they say a thousand shameful things of her, and of all who have supported her in her intrigues. On them is cast the odium of all the calamities anticipated from the war, " When the war comes, no one doubts that the peo ple will rebel as much from fear of the dangers which I have mentioned, as from the love which is felt for the two ladies, and especially for the Princess, She is so entirely beloved that, notwithstanding the law raade at the last Parliament, and the menace of death contained in it, they persist in regarding her as Princess, No ParUament, they say, can make her anything but the king's daughter, born in marriage ; and so the king and every one else regarded her before that Parlia ment, " Lately, when she was removed from Greenwich, a vast crowd of women, wives of citizens and others, Walked before her at their husbands' desire, weeping and crying that notwithstanding all she was Princess, 18C State of Feeling in England. [Cu. vu Some of them were sent to the Tower, but they would not retract, " Things are now so critical, and the fear of war is so general, that many of the greatest raerchants in London have placed themselves in communication with the emperor's ambassador, telling hira, that if the em peror will declare war, the English nation will join him for the love they bear the Lady Mary, *' You, my Lord, will remember that when you were nere, it w^as said you were come to tell the king that he was excoramunicated, and to demand the hand of the Princess for the Dauphin, The people were so delighted that they have never ceased to pray for you. We too, when we arrived in London, were told that the people were praying for us. They thought our em bassy was to the Princess, They imagined her marriage with the Dauphin had been determined on by the two kings, and the satisfaction was intense and universal, " They believe that, except by this marriage, they cannot possibly escape war ; whereas, can it be brought about, they will have peace with the emperor and aU other Christian princes. They are now so disturbed and so desperate that, although at one time they would have preferred a husband for her from among them selves, that they might not have a foreign king, there now is nothing which they desire more. Unless the Dauphin will take her, they say she wUl continue dis inherited ; or, if she come to her rights, it can only be by battle, to the great incommodity of the country. The Princess herself says pubhcly that the Dauphin is her husband, and that she has no hope but in him, I have been told this by persons who have heard it from ber own lips, " The emperor's ambassador inquired, after you came, 1583.] Proposed Marriage of the Princess Mary. 181 whether we had seen her. He said he knew she was most anxious to speak with us ; she thought we had permission to visit her, and she looked for good news. He told us, among other things, that she had been more strictly guarded of late, by the orders of the queen that now is, who, knowing her feeling for the Dauphin, feared there might be some practice with her, or some attempt to carry her off, " The Princess's ladies say that she calls herself the DaujAin's wife, A time wUl come, she says, when God will see that she has suffered pain and tribulation sufficient; the Dauphin wUl then demand her of the king her father, and the king her father will not be able to refuse, " The lady who was my informant heard, also, from the Princess, that her governess, and the other attend ants whom the queen had set to watch her, had assured her that the Dauphin was married to the daughter of the emperor ; but she, the Princess, had answered it was not true — the Dauphin could not have two wives, and they well knew that she was his wife : they told her that story, she said, to make her despair, and agree to give up her rights ; but she would never part with her hopes, " You may have heard of the storm that broke out between her and her governess when we went to visit her little sister. She was carried off by force to her room, that she might not speak with us ; and they could neither pacify her nor keep her still, till the gen- deman who escorted us told her he had the king's com mands that she was not to show herself while we were in the house. You remember the message the same gentleman brought to you from her, and the charge which was given by the queen. 182 Proposed Marriage of the Princess Mary [Ch. vn. " Could the king be brought to consent to the mar« riage, it would be a fair union of two realms, and to an nex Britain to the crown of France would be a great honour to our Sovereign ; the English party desire nothing better ; the pope will be glad of it ; the pope fears that, if war break out again, France will draw- closer to England on the terms which the King of Eng land desires ; and he raay thus lose the French tribute as he has lost the English, He therefore will urge the emperor to agree, and the emperor wUl assist gladlv for the love which he bears to his cousin, " If the emperor be wiUing, the King of England can then be informed ; and he can be made to feel that, if he will avoid war, he must not refiise his con sent. The king, in fact, has no wish to disown the Princess, and he knows well that the marriage with the Dauphin was once agreed on, " Should he be unwilling, and should his -wife's per suasions still have influence with him, he wiU hesitate before he will defy, for her sake, the King of France and the emperor united. His regard for the queen is less than it was, and diminishes every day. He has a new fancy,! ^^ jq^ ^^q aware." The actual conspiracy, in the form which it had so far assumed, was rather an appeal to fanaticism than a plot which could have laid hold of the deeper mind of 1 11 a des nouveUes amours. In a paper at Simancas, containing Nuevas ¦Je Inglaterra, written about this time, is a similar account of the dislike of Anne and her family, as well as of the king's altered feelings towards her. Dicano anchora che la Anna fe mal voluta degli S' di Inghilterra si per la sua superbia, si anche per I'insolentia e mali portamenti che fanno nel .¦egno li fratelli e parenti di Anna j e che per questo il Ee non la porta U afFezione que soleva per che il Ee festeggia una altra Donna deUa quale se mostra esser in amoral o, e molti S' di Inghilterra lo ajutano nel segiiir el preditto amor per devial questo Ee dalla pratica di Anna. 1533.] The Nun of Kent. 18S the country ; but as an indication of the unrest which was stealing over the rainds of men, it assumed an im portance which it would not have received from its in trinsic character. The guUt of the principal offenders admitted of no doubt. As soon as the coramissioners were satisfied that there was nothing further to be discov- The Nun ered, the Nun, with the monks, was brought monks to trial before the Star Chamber ; and convic- trial. tion followed as a matter of course.^ The unhappy girl finding herself at this conclusion, after seven years of vanity, in which she had played with popes, and queens, and princesses, and archbish ops, now, when the dream was thus rudely broken, in the revulsion of feeUng could see nothing in herself but a convicted impostor. We need not refuse to pity her. The misfortunes of her sickness had exposed her to temptations far beyond the strength of an ordinary woman ; and the guilt which she passionately claimed for herself rested far more truly with the knavery of the Christ Church monks and the incredible folly of Arch bishop Warham ,2 But the times were too stern to ad mit of nice distinctions. No immediate sentence was pronounced, but it was thought desirable for the sat isfaction ofthe people that a confession should be made in public by the Nun and her companions. The Sun - 1 HaU. 2 " I, dame Elizabeth Barton," she said, " do confess that I; most miser- ible and wretched person, have been the original of all this mischief, and by my falsehood I have deceived all these persons (the monks who were her accomplices), and many more ; whereby I have most grievously offended Umighty God, and my most noble sovereign the King's Grace. Where fore I humbly, and with heart most sorrowful, desire you to pray to Al- aighty God for my miserable sins, and make supplication for me to my sovereign for his gracious mercy and pardon." — Confession of Elizabeth MkUixi: Rolls Bouse MS. • 184 Disgrace of Mary. [Ch. vu, day foUowing their trial they were placed on n raiSed Thej make platform at Paul's Cross hy the side of the sitms arlt.*' pulpiti and when the sermon was over they Paul's. Qjjg ¦\^j QjjQ delivered their " bUls " to the preacher, which by him were read to the crowd.^ After an acknowledgment of their imposture the prisoners were remanded to the Tower, and their ulti mate fate reserved for the consideration of parliament, which was to meet in the raiddle of January, The chief offenders being thus disposed of, the coun cU resolved next that pereraptory measures should be taken with respect to the Princess Mary,^ Her estab- Tho house- Ushment w^as broken up, and she was sent to Princess residc as the Lady Mary in the household of broken up. thc Priuccss Elizabeth — a hard but not un wholesome discipline,* As soon as this was done; beuig satisfied that the leading shoot of the conspiracy The inquiry was brokcu, and that no iramediate danger is prosecuted i /> , , , i T • further was now to be feared, they proceeded lei surely to follow the clue of the Nun's confession, and to extend their inquiries. The Countess of Salisbury The was mentioned as one of the persons with of Salisbury, whom the womau had been in correspond ence. This lady was the daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother of Edward IV, Her mother was a Neville, a child of Richard the King-maker, the famous Earl of Warwick, and her only brother had been murdered to secure the shaking throne of Henry 1 Papers relating to Elizabeth Barton : RoUs House MS. ¦'- Siate Papers, Vol. I. p. 415. ft A curious trait in Mary's character may be mentioned in connection wilh this transfer. She had a voracious appetite; and in Elizabeth's household expenses an extra charge was made necessary of 26/. a-year foi the meat breakfasts and meat suppers " served into the Lady Maiy'i chamber." — Statement of the expenses of the Household of the PrinceM Elizabeth : RoUs Bouse MS. 1833.] The Countess of Salisbury. 185 VII, Margaret Plantagenet, in recompense for the lost honours of the house, was made Countess of Salis bury in her own right. The title descended from her grandfather, who was Earl of Salisbury and Warwick ; but the prouder title had been dropped as suggestive of dangerous associations. The Earldom of Warwick remained in abeyance, and the castle and the estates attached to it were forfeited to the Crown, The countess was raarried after her brother's death to a Sir Richard Pole, a supporter and relation ¦* of the king ; and when left a widow she received from Henry VIII, the respectful honour which was due to the raost nobly born of his subjects, the only remaining Plantagenet of unblemished descent. In his kindness to her chil dren the king had attempted to obliterate the recollec tion of her brother's wrongs, and she had been herself selected to preside over the household of the Princess Mary, During the first twenty years of Henry's reign the countess seems to have acknowledged his attentions with loyal regard, and if she had not forgotten her birth and her childhood, she never connected herself with the attempts which during that time were made to re rive the feuds of the houses, Richard de la Pole, nephew of Edward IV,,^ and called while he Uved " the White Rose," had more than once endeavoured to excite an insurrection in the eastern counties ; but Lady Salisbury was never suspected of holding inter course with him ; she remained aloof from political dis putes, and in lofty retirement she was contented to forget her greatness for the sake of the Princess Mary, to whom she and her family were deeply attached. Her relations with the king had thus continued undis- ^ He is called /™(er consobrinus. See Fuller's Worthies, Vol III. p. 128 » He was killed at the battle of Pavia 186 The Countess of Salisbury. [Ch. vil turbed untU his second marriage. As the representa* tive of the House of York she was the object of the hopes and affections of the remnants of their party, but she had betrayed no disposition to abuse her influence, or to disturb the quiet of the nation for personal ambi tion of her own. If it be lawful to interpret symptoms in theraselves ¦ trifling by the light of later events, it would seem as if her attitude now underwent a material change. Her Reginald ^'^^ Reginald had already quarrelled with the ^°'°' king upon the divorce. He was in suspicious connexion with the pope, and having been required to return horae upon his allegiance, had refused obedience. His mother, and his mother's attached friend, the Marchioness of Exeter, we now find among those to whom the Nun of Kent communicated her prophecies and her plans. It does not seem that the countess ¦ thought at any time of reviving her own pretensions ; it does seem that she was ready to build a throne for the Princess Mary out of the ruined supporters of her father's family. The power which she could wield might at any moment becorae formidable. She had two sons in England, Lord Montague and Sir Geoffrey The Marquis Polc, Her cousiu, the Marquis of Exeter, a rfB^eter. grandsou himself of Edward IV,,i was, with the exception of the Duke of Norfolk, the most power ful nobleman in the realm ; and he, to judge by events, was beginning to look coldly on the king,^ We find her surrounded also by the representatives of her mother's family, — Lord Abergavenny, who had been 1 Oouitenay, Earl of Devonshire, married Catherine, daughter of Ed ward. 2 Believe me, my lord, there are some here, and those of the greatest in the land, who will be indignant if the Pope confirm tbe sentence against the late Queen. — D'InteviUe to Montmorency : The Pilgrim, p. 97, 1533.] The Nevilles. 187 under suspicion when the Duke of Buckingham was executed. Sir Edward Neville, afterwards ,^^ executed. Lord Latimer, Sir George and Sir '*''"'^- WiUiam Neville, all of them were her near connexions, all collateral heirs of the King-maker, inheriting the pride- of their birth, and resentfully conscious of their fallen fortunes. The support of a party so composed would have added formidable strength to the preaching friars of the Nun of Kent ; and as I cannot doubt that the Nun was endeavouring to press her intrigues in a quarter where disaffection if created would be ^.^^ strength most dangerous, so the lady who ruled this Rose &«-'"'* party with a patriarchal authority had lis- ''°°- tened to her suggestions ; and the repeated interviews with her which were sought by the Marchioness of Exeter were rendered more than suspicious by the se cresy with which these interviews were conducted.^ These circumstances explain the arrest, to which I aUuded above, of Sir WiUiam and Sir George Examinatioii NeviUe, brothers of Lord Latimer, They SwS. were not among " the many noblemen " to Q°orge whom the commissioners referred ; for their ^^^''^^' confessions remain, and contain no allusion to the Nun ; but they were examined at this particular time on gen eral suspicion ; and the arrest, under such circum stances, of two near relatives of Lady Salisbury, indi cates clearly an alarm in the council, lest she might be contemplating sorae serious movements. At any rate, either on her account or on their own, the Nevilles fell under suspicion, and while they had no crimes to reveal, their depositions, especially that of Sir William Neville, furnish singular evidence of the temper of the times, ' She once rode to Canterbury, disguised as a servant, with only a young girl for her companion. — Depositions of Sir Geoffrey Pole: Rolls Bouse US. 188 The Nevilles. [Ch.vh The confession of the latter begins with an account Confession of the loss of Certain silver spoons, for the Uam Neville, rccovcry of which Sir Williara sent to a wiz ard who resided in Cirencester, The wizard took the opportunity of telling Sir William's fortune : his wife was to die, and he himself was to marry an heiress, and be made a baron ; with other prospective splendours. The wizard concluded, however, with recommending him to pay a visit to another dealer in the dark art more learned than himself, whose name was Jones, at Oxford, " So after that," said Sir WUliam [Midsummer, Jones, the 15321, " I wcut to Oxford, intending that mv Oxford con- , , ^ i x i i i i -ii i i -i juror. brother George and 1 should kill a buck with Sir Simon Harcourt, which he had proraised me ; and there at Oxford, in the said Jones's charaber, I did see certain stillatories, alembics, and other instruments of glass, and also a sceptre and other things, which he said did appertain to the conjuration of the four kings ; and also an image of white metal ; and in a box, a ser pent's skin, as he said, and divers books and things, whereof one was a book which he said was my Lord Cardinal's, having pictures in it like angels. He told me he could make rings of gold, to obtain favour of great men ; and said that my Lord Cardinal had such ; and promised ray said brother and me, either of us, one of them ; and also he showed me a round thing like a ball of crystal, " He said that if the King's Grace went over to France [the Calais visit of October, 1532], his Grace should marry my Lady Marchioness of Pembroke be- fiire that his Highness returned again ; and that it would be dangerous to his Grace, and to the most part of the noblemen that should go with him ; saymg also 1533.] The Nevilles. 189 that he had written to one of the king's councU to ad- rise his Highness not to go over, for if he did, it should not be for his Grace's profit," The wizard next pretended that he had seen a vision of a certain roora in a tower, in which a spirit had ap peared with a coat of arms in his hand, and had " de livered the same to Sir William Neville," The arms being described as those of the Warwick family. Sir William, his brother, and Jones rode down from Ox ford to Warwick, where they went over the castle. The wizard professed to recognise in a turret chamber the room in which he had seen the spirit, TheNeviiies and he prophesied that Sir William should ^e'^Som recover the earldom, the long-coveted prize "f ^'"^'"'=^- of aU the Neville family. On their return to Oxford, Jones, continues Sir William, said further, " That there should be a field in the north about a se'nnight before Christmas, in which my Lord my brother [Lord Latimer] should be slain ; the realm should be long without a king ; and much robbery would be within the realm, specially of abbeys and religious houses, and of rich men, as merchants, graziers, and others ; so that, if I would, he at that time would advise me to find the means to enter into the said castle for raine own safeguard, and divers persons would resort unto me. None of Oadwallader' s blood, he told me, should reign more than twenty-four prophecy years ; and also that Prince Edward [son of ^^^1^°^. °' Henry VI. and Margaret of Anjou, killed at d'-^'s wood Tewkesbury] had issue a son which was "o'""'''" shqpid reign more than twenty-four conveyed over sea ; and there had issue a son ^''^'^' which was yet alive, either in Saxony or Almayne ; and that either he or the King of Scots should reign next after the King't Grace that now is. To aU 190 The Nevilles. [Ch.vu which I answered," Sir WiUiam concluded, " that there is nothing which the will of God is that a man shaU obtain, but that he of his goodness wUl put in his mind the way whereby he shall come by it ; and that surely I had no mind to follow any such fashion ; and that, also, the late Duke of Buckingham and others had cast themselves away by too much trust in prophecies, and other jeoparding of themselves, and therefore I woul i in no wise follow any such way. He answered, if I would not, it would be long ere I obtained it. Then I said I believed that well, and if it never came, I trusted to God to live well enough," ^ Sir George Neville confirmed generaUy his brother's story, protesting that they had never intended treason, and that " at no time had he been of counsel " when any treason was thought of,^ The wizard himself was next sent for. The prophe- The wizard oics about the king he denied wholly. He beforettie* admitted that he had seen an angel in a dream Council. giving Sir WiUiam NevUle the shield of the earldom in Warwick Castle, and that he had accom panied the two brothers to Warwick, to examine the tower. Beyond that, he said that he knew nothing either of them or of their intentions. He declared He under- himself a good subject, and he would "jeop- Sakethe ^^. never listened seriously tc the Nun of Kent. 1633.] used as a Menace to Francis. 193 fences ofthe country were to be looked to ; and " spies " to be sent into Scotland to see " what tliey intended there," " and whether they would confeder themselves with any outward princes." FinaUy, it was Renewed proposed that the attempt to form an alliance off Sotes- withthe Lutheran powers should be renewed *™"»»e"«- on a larger scale ; that certain discreet and grave per sons should be appointed to conclude " some league or amity with the princes of Germany," — "that is to say, the King of Poland, the King of Hungary,^ the Duke of Saxony, the Duke of Bavaria, the Duke of Brandenburg, the Landgrave of Hesse, and other po tentates," ^ Vaughan's mission had been merely ten tative, and had failed. Yet the offer of a league, offen sive and defensive, the immediate and avowed object of which was a general council at which the Protes tants should be represented, might easily succeed where vague offers of amity had come to nothing. The for mation of a Protestant alliance,' however, would have been equivalent to a declaration of war against Cath olic Europe ; and it was a step which could not be taken, consistently with the Treaty of Calais, without first communicating with Francis, Henry, therefore, by the advice of the council, wrote a despatch to Sir John Wallop, the ambassa- The King 1 T*. I'l I I'll/. 1 writes to dor at Pans, which was to be laid before the Francis, Tl 1 TT I'll- menacing rrench court. He explained the circum- Mm with stances in which he was placed, with the sug- dient. gestion which the council had made to him. He gave a list of the princes with whom he had been desired by his mini.sters to connect himself, — artd the object was 1 John of Transylvania, the rival of Ferdinand. His designation by the title of king in an English state paper was a menace that, if iriven to ex tremities, Henry would support him against the empire. 2 Acts of CouncU: State Papers, Vol. I. pp. 414, 415. VOL. II. 13 194 The Protestant League. [Ch vn nothing less than a coalition of Northern Europe, Ha recapitulated the injuries which he had re ceived from the pope, who at length was studying " to subvert tbe rest and peace of the realm " ; " yea, and so much as in him was, utterly to destroy the same," The nobles and council, he said, for their A Protestant OWU sakc as wcU as for the sake of theiking- highiy desir- dom, had entreated him to put an end, once able io put /> n i , . i • an end to the tor all, to the pope s Usurpation ; and to m- of the pope, vite the Protestant princes, for the universal weal of Christendom, to unite in a common alliance. In his present situation he was inclined to act upon this advice, " As conceming his own realm, he had already taken such order with his nobles and sub jects, as he would shortly be able to give to the pope such a buffet as he never had heretofore ; " but as a He wUi not German aUiance was a matter of great weight witiiourflrst aiid iraportance, " although," he concluded, hfagood"^ " we consider it to be right expedient to set brother. forth the Same with all dUigence, yet we in tend nothing to do therein without making our good brother first privy thereunto. And for this cause and consideration only, you may say that we have at this time addressed these letters unto you, commanding you to declare our said purpose unto our good brother, and to require of hira on our behalf his good address and best advice. Of his answer we require you to adver tise us with all diUgence, for according thereunto we intend to atteraper our proceedings. We have lately had . advertisements how that our said good brother should, by the labour of divers affectionate Papists, be minded to set forth something with his clergy in ad vancement of the pope and his desires. This we cannot believe that he will do," ^ 1 Henry VIII. to Sir John WaUop: State Papers, Vol. VII. p. S24. 1883.] The Protestant League. 195 The meaning of this letter lies upon the surface. If the European powers were determined to Meaningof , , . 1 • • 11, *his letter. leave him no alternative, the king was pre- He win jom pared to ally himself with the Lutherans, sooner than But however he might profess to desire that pope, but he aUiance, it was evident that he would prefer, rrancis wiii if possible, a less extreme resource. The bun to it. pope had ceased to be an object of concern to him ; but he could not contemplate, without extreme unwilling ness, a separation from the orderly governments who professed the CathoUc faith. The pope had injured him;. Francis had deceived him; they had tempted his patience because they knew his disposition. The limit of endurance had been reached at length ; yet, on the verge of the concluding rupture, he turned once more, as if to offer a last opportunity of peace. The reply of Francis was an immediate mission of the Bishop of Bayonne (now Bishop of Mission of Paris), first into England, and from England S pfriX" to Rome, where he was to endeavour, to the ^"s'*"*- best of his ability, to seam together the already gaping rent in the church with fair words — a hopeless task — the results of which, however, were unexpectedly con siderable, as will be presently seen. Meanwhile, on the side of Flanders, tho atmosphere was dubious and menacing. The refugee Threatening fiiars, who were reported to be well supplied the'cOTit^of with money from England, were labouring to ^'¦'"''«•'• exasperate the people. Father Peto especially* distin guishing himself upon this service.^ The English am- 1 Stephen Vaughan to CromweU: State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 517. Vaughan describes Peto with Shakespearian raciness. " Peto is an ipocrite knave, as the most part of his brethren be ; a wolf; a tiger clad in a sheep'i tkin. It is a perilous knave — a raiser of sedition — an evil reporter of the King's Highness — a prophecyer of mischief — a feUow I would wish U x 196r The Court of Brussels. [Ch, VU bassador. Sir John Hacket, stUl remained at Brussels, The EngUsh and the two governments were formally »^^M8^dor^ at peace ; but when Hacket required the tofOTbidttie* queen-regent to forbid the publication of o"the pfpai the brief of July in the Netherlands, he was Flanders'" ^^^ "^^i*^ ^ positivc rcfusal, " M. Ambasc She refuses, g^dor," shc Said, "the Emperor, the Kmg of Hungary, the Queen of France, the King of Por tugal, and I, understand what are the rights of our aunt — our duty is to her — and such letters of the pope as come hither in her favour we shall obey. Your master has no right to complain either of the emperor ' or of myself, if we support our aunt in a just cause," ^ At the sarae time, formal complaints were made by Charles of the personal treatment of Queen Catherine, and the clouds appeared to be gathering for a storm. Yet here, too, there was an evident shrinking from ex tremities, A Welsh gentleman had been at Brussels to offer his services against Henry, and had met with apparent coldness. Sir John Hacket wrote, . on the 15th of December, that he was assured by well-informed persons, that so long as Charles Uved, he would never be the first to begin a war with Eng land, " which would rebound to the destruction of the Low Countries," ^ A week later, when the December 23. no . n i • queen-regent was suftering trom an alarming illness, he said it was reported that^ should she die, Catherine or Mary, if either of them was aUowed be in the king's hands, and' to be shamefully punished. Would God I could get him by any policy — I will work what I can. Be sure he shall do nothing, nor pretencl to do nothing, in these parts, that I will not find meani to cause the King's Highness to know. I have laid a bait for him. He is not able to wear the elokys and cucuUys that be seat bia »ut of England, they be so many." 1 Hacket to Heniy VIII. : State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 528. • Ibid. p. 530. »M] Meeting of Parliame.a. 197 to leave England, would be held " meet to have gov- enianee of the Low Countries," ^ This was p„p„8aito a generous step, if the emperor seriously ^eoraiary contemplated it. The failure of the Nun of SeTe'tSer- Kent had perhaps taught him that there was '™*^- no present prospect of a successful insurrection. In his conduct towards England, he was seemingly gov erning himself by the prospect which might open for a successful attack upon it. If occasion offered charies watt to strike the government in connexion with events."" an efficient Catholic party in the nation itself, he would not fail to avail himself of it,^ Otherwise, he would perhaps content himself with an attitude of inactive menace ¦; tnnless menaced himsel by a Pirotestant con federation. Amidst these uneasy symptoms at home and abroad, parliament reassembled on the 15th ¦erf Jan- January is uary. It w^as a changed England since these parliament. men first came together on fhe fall of Wolsey, Session aifter session had been spent in clipping the roots of the old tree whioh had overshadowed them for centuries. On their present meeting they were to finish their work, and lay it prostrate for ever. Negotiations were still pending with the See of Rome, and this momen tous session had closed before the final catastrophe. The measures which were passed in the course of it aro not, therefere, to be looked upon as adopted hastily, in a spirit of retaliation, but as the consistent accomplish ment of a course which had been deliberately adopted, 1 Hacket to CromweU: Slate Papers, Vol. VII. p. 531, 2 So at least Henry supposed, if we may judge by the resolutions of tha Council " for the fariafl cation of aU the frontiers of the realm, as weU upon the coasts ofthe sea as the frontiers foreanenst Scotland." The fortresses and havens were to be " fortefyed and munited ; " and money to he sent to York tobe in readiness " if any business should happen." — Ibid. Vol. 1. p. 411. 198 Perils of the Bef ormation. [Ch. vu to reverse the positions ofthe civil and spiritual author ity within the realm, and to withdraw the realm itself from all dependence on a foreign power. The Annates and Firstfruits' Bill had not yet re ceived the royal assent ; but the pope had refused to grant the buUs for bishops recently appointed, and he was no longer to receive payment for services which he refused to render. Peter's pence were stUl paid, and might continue to be paid, if the pope would recoUect himself; but, Uke the Sibyl of Cuma, Henry destroyed some fresh privUege with each delay of justice, demand ing the same price for the preservation of what re mained. The secondary streams of tribute now only remained to the Roman See ; and communion with the English church, which it was for Clement to accept or refiise. The circumstances under which the session opened Opening wcrc, howover, grave and saddening, Si- businessof i • i i , T, , the session, multaneously with the concluding legislation on the church, the succession to the throne was to be determined in terms which might, perhaps, be accepted as a declaration of war by the emperor ; and the af fair of the Nun of Kent had rendered necessary an inquiry into the conduct of honoured members of the two Houses, who were lying under the shadow of high Perils of the treason. The conditions were for the first Information, ^j^^^g ^^ y^^ plainly seen under which the Ref ormation was to fight its way. The road which lay before it was beset not merely with external obstacles, which a strong wUl and a strong hand could crush, but with the phantoms of dying faiths, which haunted the hearts of aU Uvmg men ; the superstitions, the preju dices, the hopes, the fears, the passions, which swayed stormily and fitfiiUy through the minds of every actor in the great drama. 1634.] Cromwell. 199 The uniformity of action in the parhament of 1529, during the seven years which it continued, is Oromweu due to the one man who saw his way distinct- way cieariy. ly, Thomas Cromwell, The nation was substantially united on the divorce question, could the divorce be secured without a rupture with the European powers. It was united also on the necessity of limiting the ju risdiction of the clergy, and cutting short the powers of the consistory courts. But in questions of " opinion " there was the most sensitive jealousy; and fi-om the combined instincts of prejudice and conservatism, the majority of the country in a count of heads w^ould un doubtedly have been against a separation from Rome, The clergy professed to approve the acts of the gov ernment, but it was for the most part with the unwill ing acquiescence of men who were without courage to refuse. The king was divided against him- struggle in self Nine days in ten he was the clear- SLuTght headed, energetic, powerful statesman ; on the s""! darkneia. tenth he was looking wistfully to the superstition which he had left, and the clear sunshine was darkened with theological clouds, which broke in lightning and perse cution. Thus there was danger at any mo- Danger of ment of a reaction, unless opportunity was '«^'""'- taken at the flood, unless the work was executed too completely to admit of reconsideration, and the nation committed to a course from wliicii it was irapossible to recede. The action of the conservatives was par alysed for the tirae by the want of a fix«d purpose. The various parts of the movement were so skilfully linked together, that partial opposition to it was impos sible ; and so long as the people had to choose between the pope and the king, their loyalty would not allow them to hesitate. But very few men actively adhered 200 Opening Measures. [Ch., vu. to CromweU, Cromwell had struck the line on which Peculiarity the forces of uaturc were truly moving, — weu's genius, the rcsultaut, not of the victory of either of the extreme parties, but of the joint action of their op posing 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, The Protestants, perhaps, knew what he was, but he could only purchase their toleration by hiraself checking their extravagance, Latimer was the only person of real power on whose friendship he could calculate, and Latimer was too plain-spoken on dangerous questiorts to be useful as a political supporter. The session commenced on the 15th of January, The first step was to receive the final submission of The clergy convocation. The undignified resistance was flnai'submis- ^^ l^'St ovcr, and the clergy had promised t« ^'™" abstain for the ftiture from unlicensed legisla tion. To secure their adherence to their engagements. Mixed Com- ^'^ ^ct ^ was passcd to malte the breach of tend^fo™' tli^t engagement penal ; and a commission of'th^'canm ^^ thirty-two persons, half of whom were to ''"'• be laymen, was designed for the revision of the Canon law. The next most important movement was to assimir Eeform in late the trials for heresy with the trials for th« law for , , , , ~, theprosecu- Other Criminal offences, I have alreadv ex- tionofhere- i , i , , , ties. plained at length the manner in which the bishops abused their judicial powers. These powers ' 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 19. ' A design which unfortunately was not put in effect. In the huny rf the time it was aUowed to drop. 1534.] The Cong& d'Mire. 201 were not absolutely taken away, but ecclesiastics were no longer permitted to arrest ex offiAo and examine at their pleasure. Where a charge of heresy was to be brought against a man, presentments were to be made by lawful witnesses before justices of the peace ; and then, and not otherwise, he might fall under the au thority of the " ordinary." Secret examinations were declared Ulegal, The offender was to be tried in open court, and, previous to his trial, had a right to be ad mitted to bail, unless the bishop could show cause to the contrary to the satisfaction of two magistrates,^ This was but a slight instalment of lenity ; but it was an indication of the turning tide. Limited as it was, the act operated as an effective check upon perse cution till the passing of the Six Articles Bill, Turning next to the relations between England and Rome, the parliament reviewed the Annates The Annates Act,2 which had been left unratified in the ^eedved^he hope that the pope might have consented to a royai assent, compromise, and that " by some gentle ways the said exaction might have been redressed and reformed," The expectation had been disappointed. The pope had not condescended to reply to the communication which had been made to him, and the act had in consequence received the royal assent. An alteration had thua become necessary in the manner of presenta- An alteration 1 • 1 • ml !• /• '* necessary tion to vacant bishoprics. 1 he anomalies ot in the mode , . , . , , 111 ofelecting the existing practice have been afready de- Wshops. scribed. By the Great Charter the chapters had ac quired the right of free election. A congS d'ilire was granted by the king on the occurrence of a vacancy, with no attempt at a nomination. The chapters were supposed to make their choice freely, and the name 1 25 Henry VIH. cap. 14. 2 23 Henry VIII. cap. 20, 202 The Congi d'Mire. [Ch- va of the bishop-elect was forwarded to the pope, who retumed the Pallium and the BuUs, receiving the Annates in exchange. The pope's part in the matter was now terminated. No Annates would be sent any longer to Rome, and no BuUs would be returned from Rome, The appouitments lay between the chapters and the crown ; and it might have seemed, at first sight, as if it would have been sufficient to omit the reference to the papacy, and as if the remaining forms might continue as they were. The chapters. The Chap- howevor, had virtuaUy long ceased to elect giTduaiiy" freely ; the crown had absorbed the entire privileges functions of presentation, sometimes appoint- them by the ing foreigners,^ sometimes allowing the great ter. ecclesiastical ministers to nominate them selves ; 2 whUe the rights of the chapters, though ex isting in theory, were not officially recognised either The nomina- by the popc or by the crown. The king af- tuaiiy rested fectod to accept the names of the prelates- crown, elect, when retumed to him from Rome, as nominations by the pope ; and the pope, in communi cating with the chapters, presented them with their bishops as from himself,^ The papal share in the mat- 1 At this very time Campeggio was Bishop of Salisbury, and Ghinucci, who had been acting for Henry at Home, was Bishop of Worcester. The Act by which they were deprived speaks of these two appointments as nom- inations by the king. — 25 Henry VIII. cap. 27. 2 Wolsey held tiiree bishoprics and one archbishopric, besides the abbey of St. Albans. 8 Thus when Wolsey was presented, in 1614, to the See of Lincoln, Leo X. writes to his beloved son Thomas Wolsey how that in his great care for the interests of the Church, " Nos hodie Ecclesise Lincolniensi, te in epis- copum et pastorem prseficere intendimus." He then informs the Chapter of Lincoln ofthe appointment ; and the king, in granting the temporalities, continues the fiction without seeming to recognise it : — " Cum dominus Bummus Pontifex nuper vacante Ecclesia cathedrali personam fidelia clerici nostri Thomse Wolsey, in ipsius Ecclesise episcopum prsefecerit, BOS," &c. — See the Acts in Eymer, Vol. VI. part 1, pp. 55-57. 1584.] The CondS d'ilire. 203 ter was a shadow, but it was acknowledged under the forms of courtesy; the share of the chapters was wholly and absolutely ignored. The crisis of a revolu tion was not the moment at wliich their legal privileges could be safely restored to them. The problem of re arrangement was a difficult one, and it was Difficulty of met in a manner peculiarlv English, The ment. c i- ^1 , -I?,!. 1 'ihecongi practice ot granting the conge d elire to the ccum. chapters on the occurrence of a vacancy, which had faUen into desuetude, was again adopted, and the church resumed the forms of liberty : but the licence to elect a bishop was to be accompanied with the name of the person whom the chapter was required to elect ; and if within twelve days the person so named had not been chosen, the nomination of the crown was to become absolute, and the chapter would incur a Premunire,' 1 25 Henry VIII. cap. 20. The preexisting unrealities with respect to the election of bishops explain the unreality of the new arrangement, and divest "it of the character of wanton tyranny with which it appeared priniA fcuAe to press upon the Chapters. The liistory of this statute is curious, and perhaps explains the intentions with which it was originally passed. It was repealed by the 2d of the 1st of Edward VI. on the ground that the liberty of election was merely nominal, and that the Chapters ought to be relieved of responsibility when they had no power of choice. Direct nomi nation by the crown was substituted for the conge d 'elire, aud remained the practice tUl the reaction under Mary, when the indefinite system was resumed which had existed before the Reformation. On the accession of Elizabeth, the statute of 25 Henry VIII. was again enacted. The more complicated process of Henry was preferred to the more simple one of Ed ward, and we are naturaUy led to ask the reason of so singular a prefer ence. I cannot but think that it was this. The Council ol Regency under Edward VI. treated the Church as an institution of the State, while Henry and Elizabeth endeavoured (under difliculties) to regard it imder its more CathoUc aspect of an organic body. So long as the Refoi'fhation was in progress, it was necessary to prevent the intrusion upon the bench pf bishops of Romanizing tendencies, and the deans and chapters were there fore protected by a strong hand from their own possible mistakes. But th« form of libertj' was conceded to them, not, I hope, to place deliberately a body of clergymen in a degrading position, but in the belief that at no dis tant time the ("hurch might be allowed without danger to resume some do grt'e of self-govemm int. 204 Abolition of Exactions. [Ch. vii This act, which I conceive to have been more ar bitrary in form than in intention, was followed by a closing attack upon the remaining " exactions " of the Bishop of Rome, The Annates were gone. There Pet r's "'®i'® y* ^° S°' " Pensions, Censes, Peter's TtTOT formj Pence, Procurations, Fruits, Suits for Prori- paidt'o"Rome ^ion, Delegacies and Rescripts in causes of abolished. Contention and Appeals, Jurisdictions legatine — also Dispensations, Licenses, Faculties, Grants, Rel axations, Writs called Perinde valere. Rehabilitations, Abolitions," with other unnamed (the parliament be ing wearied of naming them) " infinite sorts of Rules, Briefs, and instruments of sundry natures, names, and kinds," AU these were perenniaUy open sluices, which had drained England of its wealth for centuries, return ing only in showers of paper ; and the Commons were determined that streams so unremunerative should flow no longer. They conceived that they had been all along imposed upon, and that the " Bishop of Rome was to be blamed for having aUured and beguiled the English nation, persuading them that he had power to dispense with human laws, uses, and customs, contrary to right and conscience," If the king so pleased. Conditional therefore, they would not be so beguiled anv abolition of mi i ii . ., the papal more, ihese and all Similar exactions should authority m Kngiand. cease ; and all powers claimed by the Bishop of Rome within the realm should cease, and should be transferred to the crown. At the same time they would not press upon the pope too hardly ; they would repeat the same conditions which they had offered with the Annates, He had received these revenues as the supreme judge in the highest court in Europe, and he ^nthsai- ™'S^* v&ixm his revenues or receive compen- lowed to the sation for them, if he dared to be just. It 1634.] Closing Protest. 205 was for himself to resolve, and three months pope to de- were allowed for a final decision. In conclusion, the Commons thought it well to as sert that they were separating, not from the the com- 1 1 p rf-i • 1 1 r* 1 mons make a church ot Oiinst, but only from the papacy, general dec- A judge who allowed himself to be overawed in separating , , . , , from the against riis conscience by a secular power, pope, they , -, . 1 1 .11 are not sepa, could not any longer be recognised; but no rating from thing or things contained in the act should be the faith. afterwards " interpreted or expounded, that his Grace (the king), his nobles and subjects, intended by the same to decUne or vary from the congregation of Christ's church in anything concerning the articles ofthe Cath olic faith of Christendom, or in any other things de clared by the Holy Scripture and the Word of God ne cessary for salvation ; but only to make an ordinance, by policies necessary and convenient, to repress vice, and for the good conservation of the realm in peace, unity, and tranquiUity, from ravin and spoil — ensuing much the old antient customs of the realm in that behalf," ^' The most arduous business was thus finished — ,the most painful remained. The Nun of Kent ' , ' and her accomplices were to be proceeded against by act of parliament ; and the bill of their at tainder was presented for the first time in the py, ^^^^ House of Lords, on the 18th of February, The ^^;^ j^, offence ofthe principal conspirators was plainly andVer^"' high treason ; their own confessions removed «<""Pi'™8- uncertainty ; the guilt was clear — the se:^tence was inevitable. But the fault of those who had been lis teners only was less easy of measurement, and might vary from comparative innocence to a definite breach of allegiance, 1 25 Heiiy VIII. cap. 21. 206 Apology of -Sir Thomas More [Ch va The government were unwUling to press with se verity on the noble lords and ladies whose names had been unexpectedly brought to Ught; and there were two men of high rank only, whose compUcity it was The Bishop thought necessary to notice. The Bishop of of R^hester ^^gg^gg^er's counexion with the Nun had been Morr^ culpably encouraging ; and the responsibUity of Sir Thomas More was held also to be very great in having countenanced, however lightly, such perilouji schemers. In the bill, therefore, as it was first read. More and Declared in Fishor fouud thcmselves declared guUty of reading of misprisiou of treason. But the object of this guilty of mis- measuro was rather to warn than to punish, t^on. nor was there any real intention of continuing their prosecution, Cromwell, tmder instructions from the king, had communicated privately with both of Private com- them, Hc had sent a message to Fisher are made to thi'ough his brother, telling him that he had Cromwell only to ask for forgiveness to receive it ; ^ and Mngwiii he had begged More through his son-in-law, apology. ^" Mr, Roper, to furnish him with an expUcit account of what had passed at any time between him self and the Nun,^ with an intimation that, if honestly made, it would be accepted in his favour. These advances were met by More in the spirit in which they were offered. He heartily thanked Crom weU, "reckoning himself right deeply beholden to ' I sent you no heavy words, but words of great comfort ; willing your brother to shew you how benign and merciflil fhe prince was ; and that I thought it expedient for you to write unto his Highness, and to reciignis* your offence and to desire his pardon, which his Grace would not deny yon now in your age and sickness. — Cromwell to Fisher : Suj^esmm of ik* Monasteries, p. 27. ^ Sir Thomas IVIore to CromweU : Burnet's CoUectanea, p. 350. 1634.] accepted by the King.' 207 him ; " ^ and repUed with a long, minute, and evi dently veracious story, detailing an interview sir Thomx which he had held with the woman in the piieseiabo- chapel of Sion Monastery, He sent at the reasonably. same time a copy of a letter which he had written to her, and described various conversations with the friars who were concerned in the forgery. He (Ud not deny that he had believed the Nun to have been inspired, or that he had heard of the language which she was in the habit of using respecting the king. He protested, however, that he had himself never enter tained a treasonable thought. He told CromweU that " he had done a very meritorious deed in bringing forth to Ught such detestable hypocrisy, whereby every other wretch might take warning, and be feared to set forth their devilish dissembled falsehoods under the manner and colour of the wonderful work of God," ^ More's offence had not been great. His acknowledgments were open and unreserved ; and Cromwell laid his letter before the king, adding his own intercession that the matter might be passed over, Henry consented, expressing only his grief and concern that Sir y^^^ jg p,,. Thomas More should have acted so unwisely,^ '^''°°*- He required, nevertheless, as Cromwell suggested, that a formal letter shoiJd be written, with a confession of fault, and a request for forgiveness. More obeyed ; he wrote, gracefully reminding the king of a promise when he resigned the chancellorship, that in any suit which he might afterwards have to his Gr»ce, either touching his honour or his profit, he should find hi» Highness his good and gracious lord,* Henry ac* ' Sir Thomas More to Cromwell: Burnet's Collectanea, p, 350, s Ibid. ' More to Cromwell: Strype's Memorials, Vol. I. Appendix, p, 19J * More to tbe King: EUis, first series, Vol. II. p. 47 208 Obstinate Defence of Fisher. [Ch. VU knowledged his claim ; his name was struck out of the biU, and the prosecution against him was dropped. Fisher's conduct was very different ; his fault had Fisher is been far greater than More's, and promises HisfaSit' more explicit had been held out to him of deeper thar forgivcncss. He replied to these promises by he'under-' au elaborate and ridiculous defence, — not fend it. *' writing to the king, as CromweU desired him, but vindicating himself as having committed no fault ; although he had listened eagerly to language which was only pardonable on the assumption that it was in.- spired, and had encouraged a nest of fanatics by his childish credulity. The Nun " had showed him not," he said, " that any prince or temporal lord should put the king in danger of his crown," He knew nothing of the intended insurrection. He believed the woman to have been a saint ; he supposed that she had herself Folly of his told the king all which she had told to him ; position ; g^jj^ therefore he said that he had nothing for which to reproach himself,' He was unable to see that the exposure of the imposture had imparted a fresh character to his conduct, which he was bound to regret. Knowingly or unknowingly, he had lent his countenance to a conspiracy ; and so long as he refused to acknowl edge his indiscretion, the government necessarily would interpret his actions in the manner least to his advan tage. If he desired that his conduct should be forgotten, it whi* was indispensable that he should change hi& Cromwell . -t -I r-i exposes, attitude, and so Cromwell warned him, " Ye desire," the latter wrote, " for the passion of Christ, that ye be no more quickened in this matter ; for if ye be put to that strait ye wUl not lose your soul, but ye * Cromwell to Fisher: Suppression ofthe Monasteries, p. 37, et seq. 1684.] The Bill proceeds. 209 wiU speak as your conscience leadeth you ; with many more words of great courage. My Lord, if ye had taken my counsel sent unto you by your brother, and followed the same, submitting yourself by your letter to the King's Grace for your offences in this behalf, I would have trusted that ye should never be quickened- in the matter more. But now where ye take upon yon to defy the whole matter as ye were in no default, I cannot so far promise you. Wherefore, my j^^^, „^^ Lord, I would eftsoons advise you that, lay- Sm°tol|ti- ing apart all such excuses as ye have alleged °^'™' in your letters, which in my opinion be of small effect, ye beseech the King's Grace to be your gracious lord, and to remit unto you your negligence, oversight, and offence committed against his Highness in this behalf; and I dare undertake that his Highness shall benignly accept you into his gracious favour, all matter of dis pleasure past afore this time forgotten and forgiven." ^ Fisher must have been a hopelessly impracticable person. Instead of following More's example, -^^^^ ^^g^j^ and accepting well-meant advice, he persisted genXf^ilSf inthe same tone, and drew up an address to ?he°H™u™of the House of Lords, in which he repeated the '^°'''*^- defence which he had made to Cromwell, He ex pressed no sorrow that he had been engaged in a (irim- inal intrigue, no pleasure that the intrigue had been discovered ; and he doggedly adhered to his as.sertions of his own innocence,^ There was nothing to be done except tp procejd with his attainder. The biU passed three Marche. f The Bill readings, and the various prisoners were passes. 1 Bufi^ession of the Monasteries, p. 27, et seq. » John Fisher fo the Lords in Parliament: Ellia third series, Vol. U :>.a89. VOL. II. 14 21C Execution of the Nun. |Ch. vii. summoned to the Star Chamber to be heard in arrest of judgment. The Bishop of Rochester's attendance was dispensed with on the ground of Ulness, and be cause he had made his defence in writing,^ Nothing of consequence was urged by either of the accused. The biU was most explicit in its detaUs, going carefiiUy through the history of the imposture, and dwelling on the separate acts of each offender. They were able to disprove no one of its clauses, and on the 12th of March it was read a last time. On the 21st it received the royal assent, and there remained only to execute the The Nun and seiiteuce. The Nun herself, Richard Mas- the monks to i.i^ p • ^ • i? j 'li.!* be executed, tcrs, and the five friars being tound guilty ot of Rochester high treason, were to die ; the Bishop of Abel to bf Rochester,' Father Abel, Queen Catherine's imprisoned « , /> . i /» with for- confessor, and tour more, were sentenced tor goods. misprision of treason to forfeiture of goods and imprisonment. All other persons implicated, whose names did not appear, were declared pardoned at the intercession of Queen Anne,^ The chief offenders suffered at Tyburn on the 21st of AprU, meeting death calmly, as it appears ; receiving a fate most necessary and most de- served,^ yet claiming from us that partial respect which is due to all persons who will risk their lives in an un- 1 Lords' Journals, p. 72. 2 25 Hen. VHL cap. 12. ' In a tract written by a Dr. Moiyson in defence of the government, three years later, I find evidence that a distinction was made among the prisoners, and that Dr. Booking was executed with peculiar cruelty. " So lus in crucem actus est Bockingus," are Moryson's words, though I feel uncertain of the nature of the punishment which he meant to designate. " Crucifixion " was unknown to the EngUsh law ; and an event so peculiar as the " crucifixion " of a monk would hardly have escaped the notice of the contemporary chroniclers. In a careful diary kept by a London merchant during these years, which is in MS. in the Library of BaUiol College, Ox ford, the whole party are said to have been hanged. — See, however, Mory- »m Apomaxis, ^rinted by Berthelet, 1537. 1634.] Her last Words. 211 selfish cause. For the Nun herself, we may feel even a less quaUfied regret. Before her death she was per mitted to speak a few words to the people, which at the distance of three centuries will not be read without emotion, " Hither am I come to die," she said, " and I have not been the only cause of mine own death. Last words which most justly I have deserved ; but also at lybum. I am the cause of the death of all these persons which at this time here suffer. And yet I am not so much to be blamed, considering that it was well known unto these learned men that I was a poor wench without learning ; and therefore they might have easily per- .ceived that the things which were done by me could not proceed in no such sort ; but their capacities and learning could right well judge that they were alto gether feigned. But because the things which I feigned were profitable unto them, therefore they much praised me, and bare me in hand that it was the Holy Ghost and not I that did them. And I being puffed up with their praises, fell into a pride and foolish fantasye with myself, and thought I might ^eign what I would, which thing hath brought me to this case, and for the which I now cry God and the King's Highness most heartUy mercy, and desire all you good people to pray to God to have mercy on me, and on all them that here suffer with me," ^ The inferior confederates were committed to their prisons with the exception only of Fisher* i^her,to who, though sentenced, found mercy thrust |^Jf'ifieft°" upon him, tiU byfresh provocation the miser- "np^i^""*- able old man forced himself upon lus fate,^ 1 Hall, p. 814. ^ • Lord Herbert says he was pardoned ; I do not find, however, on what 212 The Act of Succession. ICh. tu And now the closing seal was to be afiixed to tho The Act of agitation of the great question of the preced- Buocession. j^jg ygaj-s, I havc Said that throughout these years the uncertainty of the succession had been the The neces- contiuual auxioty of the nation. The bhth Bityofit. jj£ j^ prince or princess could alone provide an absolute security ; and to beget a prince appeared to be the single feat which Henry was unable to ac compUsh, The marriage so dearly bought had been followed as yet only by a girl; and if the king were to die, leaving two daughters circumstanced as Mary and Elizabeth were circumstanced, a dispute would open which the sword only could decide. To escape the certainty of civil war, therefore, it was ne-- cessary to lay down the line of inheritance by a peremp tory order ; to cut off resolutely all rival claims ; and, in legislating upon a matter so vital, and hitherto so uncertain and indeterminate, to enforce the decision with the most stringent and exacting penalties. From the Heptarchy downwards English history furnished no fixed rule of inheritance, but only a series of prece dents of uncertainty ; and while at no previous time had the circumstances of the succession been of a na ture so legitimately embarrassing, the relations of Eng land with the pope and with foreign powers doubly enhanced the danger. But I will not use my own language on so important a subject. The preamble of the Act of Succession is the best interpreter of the provisions of that act, " In their most humble wise show unto your Majesty vour most humble and obedient subjects, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal and the Commons, in thij tuthority : but he was certainly not imprisoned, nor was the sentence of forfeiture enforced against him. 1634.] The Act of Succession. 213 present parliament assembled ; that since it is the nat ural inclination of every man gladly and will- inasmuch m inglv to provide for the safetv of both his questioned . T 1 • 11 1- 1 , atle to the title and succession, although it touch onlv throne lies ... 1 r. . , •' in the king, lus private cause ; we theretore, most right- and in his ful and dreadful Sovereign Lord, reckon our- heirs; selves much raore bounden to beseech and intreat your Highness (although we doubt not of your princely heart and wisdora, raixed with a natural affection to the eame) to foresee and provide for the most perfect surety of both you and of your most lawful successors and heirs, upon which dependeth all our joy and wealth; in whom also is united and knit the only mere true inheritance and title of this realm without any contra diction. We, your said most hurable and Andinas- ,, ,, , much as in obedient servants, call to our remembrance times past a the great divisions which in times past hath succession been in this realm by reason of several titles occasions , , , . , , p , caused con- pretended to the imperial crown ot the sarae ; fusion and , , , . 1 n 1 1 bloodshed iu which some time and tor the most part ensued the reahn, by occasion of ambiguity, and [by] doubts then not so perfectly declared but that men might upon froward intents expound them to every man's sinister appetite and affection after their senses ; whereof hath ensued great destruction and effusion of raan's blood, as well ofa great nuraber ofthe nobles as of other the subjects and speciaUy inheritors in the same. The Because greatest occasion thereof hath been because bem n'JT* no perfect" and substantial provision by laws „ rauTonn hath been made within this realm itself when heritance, doubts and questions have been moved ; by reason whereof the Bishops of Rome and See Apostolic have presumed in times past to invest who should please them to inherit in other men's kingdoms and dominions. 214 The Act of Succession. [Ch. va which thing we your most humble subjects, both spirit ual and temporal, do much abhor and detest. And And because somctimes Other foreign princes and poten- of thflfir tates of sundry degrees, minding rather dis- andoffor- gensiou and discord to continue in the realm eign princes Sionand than charlty, equity, or unity, have many confusion, timcs Supported wrong titles, whereby they might the more easUy and facUly aspire to the superi ority of the same, " The continuance and sufferance of these things. The king's deeply considered and pondered, is too dan- tShfs™' gerous and perUous to be suffered any longer ; af^'iSte" ^^^ too much contrary to unity, peace, and S'^his tranquillity, being greatly reproachable and ft^aybera- dishonourablc to the whole realm. And in thority'ot" consideration thereof, your said subjects, call- parUament: jjjg fm-^ijer to their remembrance, that the good unity, peace, and wealth of the realm, specially and principally, above all worldly things, consisteth in the surety and certainty of the procreation and posterity of your Highness, in whose most Royal person at this time is no manner of doubt, do therefore most humbly beseech your Highness that 't may be enacted, with the consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal and the Commons in this present parliament assembled — " 1, That the marriage between your Highness and 1. That the ^^ Lady Catherine, widow of the late Prince ^th*t°hl Arthur, be declared to have been from the erioe™'Vn- beginning, null, the issue of it illegitimate, thebJS'" ^^^ ^^ separation pronounced by the Arch- '''°8- bishop of Canterbury good and valid, " 2, That the marriage between your Highness and a Thatthe vour most dear and entirelv beloved wife, marriage ,/ » with Queen Quecu Auuc, be established and held good, 1684.] The Act of Succession. 215 and taken for undoubtful, true, sincere, and Anne is good „ 1 n J, 1 and sincere. perfect, ever hereafter, i The act then assumed a general character, laying down a table of prohibited degrees, wjthin Thatthe which marriage might not under any pretence Mn|w"" be i.i future contracted ; and demanding that ^gat^' any marriage which might already exist "''*' within those degrees should be at once dissolved. Afrer this provision, it again returned to the king, and fixed the order in which his chUdren by Queen Anne were to succeed. The detaUs of the regulations were minute and elaborate, and the rule to be observed was the same as that which exists at present. First, the sons were to succeed with their heirs ; if sons failed, then the daughters, with their heirs. And, in conclu sion, it was resolved, that any person who And that should maliciously do anything by writing, Z^^^^vili printing, or other external act or deed to the ^J'le^ti- peril of the king, or to the prejudice of his "^^^ shau*' marriage with Queen Anne, or to the dero- guu^'^of gation of the issue of that marriage, should be '"*™"- held guilty of high treason ; and whoever should speak against that marriage, , should be held guilty of mis prision of treason ; — severe enactments, such as could not be justified at ordinary times, and such as, if the times had been ordinary, would not have been thought necessary ; but the exigencies of the country could not tolerate an uncertainty of title in the heir to the crown ; and the title could only be secured by jrohibiting absolutely the discussion of dangerous questions. The mere enactment of a statute, whatever penalties were attached to the violation of it, was still, however, 1 This is the substance of the provisions, which are, of course, mnch •bridged 216 The first Oath of Allegiance. [Ch, vn. an insufficient safeguard. The recent investigation had revealed a spirit of disloyalty, where such a spirit had not been expected, .The deeper the inquiry had penetrated, the raore clearly appeared tokens, if not of conspiracy, yet of excitement, of doubt, of agitation, of alienated feeling, if not of aUenated act. All the symptoms were abroad- which provide disaffection with its opportunity ; and in the natural confusion which attended the revolt from the papacy, the obligations of duty, both political and reUgious, had -become indefi nite and contradictory, pointing in all directions, like the magnetic needle in a thunderstorm. It was thought well, therefore, to vest a power AU persons, in the crown, of trying the tempers of sus- at the king's ' i ° . . ^, pleaaure, pcctcd pcrsous, and examining them upon liable to be called upon oath, as to their wUlingness to maintain the to swear to , , , n i- mi ¦ this act. decision of parliament, Ihis measure was a natural corollary of the statute, and depended for its justification on the extent of the danger to which the state was exposed. If a difference of opinion on the legitimacy of the king's children, or of the pope's power in England, was not dangerous, it was un just to interfere with the natural Uberty of speech or thought. If it was dangerous, and if the state had cause for supposing that opinions of the kind might spread in secret so long as no opportunity- was offered for detecting their progress, to require the oath was a measure of reasonable self-defence, not permissible only, but in a high degree necessary and right, \ Under the impression, then, that the circumstiances » A commis- of the couutrv demanded extraordinary pre- ¦ion appoint- , . . . , ed to take cautious, a Commission was appointed, con- the tiumlna- ,, f. , aii-i n /-* i tion. sisting of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk, and the 1534.] The first Oath of Allegiance. 217 Duke of Suffolk ; and these four, or any three of them, were empowered to administer, at the pleasure of the king, " to aU and singular Uege subjects of the realm," the foUowing oath : — " Ye shall swear to bear your faith, truth, and obe dience only to the King's Majesty, and to the March ao, heirs of his body, according to the hmitation oath to the and rehearsal within the statute of succession ; succession. and not to any other within this realm, or foreign au thority, prince, or potentate : and in case any oath be made or hath been made by you to any other person or persons, that then you do repute the same as vain and annihilate : and that to your cunning, wit, and utmost of your power, without guile, fraud, or other undue means, ye shaU observe, keep, maintain, and defend this act above specified, and all the whole contents and effects thereof; and all other acts and statutes made since the beginning of this present parliament, in con firmation or for due execution of the same, or of any thing therein contained. And thus ye shall do against all manner of persons, of what estate, dignity, degree, or condition soever they be ; and in no wise do or at tempt, or to your power suffer to be done or attempted, directly or indirectly, any thing or things, privUy or apertly, to the let, hindrance, damage, or derogation thereof, by any manner of means, or for any pretence or cause, so help you God and all saints," ^ ' Lords' Journals, Vol. I. p. 82. An act was also passed in Uiis session "against the usurped power of the Bishop of Rome." We trace it m its progresi through the House of Lords. (Lords' Journals, Parliament of 1533-34.) It received the royal assent (ibid.), and is subsequently alluded to in the 10th of the 28th of Henry VIIL, as well as in a Royal Proclama tion dated Jime, 1534; and yet it is not ou the Roll, nor do 1 anywhere find traces ofit. It is not to be confounded with the act against paymant •f Peter's Pence, for in the Lords' Journals the two acts are separately mentioned. It received the royal assent on the 30th of March, while that 218 Clement gives final Sentence [Ch. va With this last resolution the House rose, having sat seventy-five days, and despatched their business swiftly. April 7. A week later, the news arrived from Rome .rrivesin that there too all was at length over; that the^p™ e has the causc was decided,, and decided against the tence™" king. The history of the closing catastro phe i."^ as obscure as it is strange, and the account of the manner in which it was brought about is unfortu nately incomplete in many important particulars. The outUna only can be apprehended, and that very imper fectly. On the receipt in Paris of the letter in which Henry Mission of threatened to organize a Protestant confed- of pSto eracy, Du BeUay, in genuine anxiety for the Kome. welfare of Christendom, had volunteered his services for a final effort. Not a moment was to be lost, for the courts at Rome were already busy with the great cause ; but the king's evident reluctance to break with the Catholic powers gave room for hope that something might stUl be done ; and going in per son to England, the bishop had induced Henry, at the last extremity, either to entrust him with representative powers, or else to allow him after all to make some kind of concession, I am unable to learn the extent to which Henry yielded, but that an offer was made of some kind is evident from the form of the story,^ against Peter's Pence was suspended till the 7th of April, It contained, also, an indirect assertion that the king was Head of the English Church, according to the title which had been given him by Convocation. (King's Proclamation: Foxe, Vol. V. p. 69.) For some cause or other, the act at the last moment must have been withdrawn. » See Burnet, Vol. I. pp. 220,221: Vol. HI. p. 135; and Lord Herbert. Du Bellay's brother, the author of the memoirs, says that the king, at the bishop's entreaty, promised that if the pope would delay sentence, and send "judges to hear the matter, he would himself forbear to do what he pro posed to do," — that is, separate wholly from the See of Rome. If thia il I634.J against the King. 21& The winter was very cold, but the bishop made his way to Rome with the haste of good wiU, and arrived in time to stay judgment, which was on the point of being pronounced. It seemed, for the moment, as if he woidd succeed. He was permitted to At first, with make engagements on the part of Henry; StracMM™ and that time might be aUowed for communication with England, the pope agreed to delay sentence tUl the 23d of March, The bishop's terms The bishop dl ,11* 1 , makes terms by the king, and a courier of which was sent off with letters of confirmation ; Sir proves, and Edward Kame and Dr, Revett foUowing a courier ki , , 1 , , , with hia con- isnrely, with a more ample commission, sent. The stone which had been laboriously rolled to the summit of the hill was trembhng on the brink, and in a moment might rebound into the plain. But this was not to be the end. Some accidental cause delayed the courier ; the 23d of Maroii The courier came, and he had not arrived, Du BeUay the road. implored a further respite. The King of are divided; England, he said, had waited six vears ; it decide ° ,'. - , 1 .1 against the was not a great thing tor the papal council to wng, and eentence Is Wait six days. The cardinals were divided ; pronounced. but the Spanish party were the strongest, and when the votes were taken carried the day; The die was cast, and the pope, in spite of himself, his promises, and his conscience, drove at length upon the rocks tc which he had been so long drifting,^ In deference to the opinion of the majority of the cardinals, he pro nounced the original marriage to have been valid, the tme, the sending "judges" must allude ta the "sending them to Cam bray," which had been proposed at Marseilles. 1 See the letter of the Bishop of Bayonne, dated March 23, iti Legrand A paraphrase is given^by Burnet, Vol. III. p. 132. 220 Clement gives final Sentence [Ch, Vtt dispensation by which it was permitted to have been Henry must legal ; and, as a natural consequence, Henry, mit,%r?s King of England, should he fail in obedience cated. to thls judgment, was declared to be excom municate from the fellowship of the church, and to have forfeited the allegiance of his subjects. Lest the censures should be discredited by a blank Tbtimperi- discharge, engagements were entered into, diat chariM that wlthiu four months of the promulgation ¦haU enforce „ , - i i • i the sentence of the Sentence, the emperor would invade England, and Henry should be deposed,^ The im periaUsts illuminated Rome ; cannon were fired ; bon fires blazed ; and great bodies of men paraded the streets with shouts of " the Empire and Spain," ^ Al ready, in their eager expectation, England was a second Netherlands, a captured province under the regency of Catherine or Mary, Two days later, the courier arrived. The pope, at the entreaties of the Bishop of Paris, reassembled the consistory, to consider whether the steps which had been taken should be undone. They sat debating aU night, and the result was nothing. No dependence could be placed on the cardinals, Du BeUay said, for they spoke one way, and voted another,^ Thus all was over. In a scene of general helpless ness the long drama closed, and, what we call accident, for want of some better word, cut the knot at last over which human incapacity had so vainly laboured. The Bishop of Paris retired from Rome in despair. On his way back, he met the English commissioners at 1 Fromisistis predecessori meo quod si sententiam contra regem Anglia tulisset, Csesar ilium infra quatuor menses erat invasuros, et regno ei^pnl- foiuB. — State Papers, Vol. VH. p. 579. " Letter of Du Bellay in Legrand. • Ibid. M34.] against the King. 221 Bologna, an I told them that their errand was hopeless, and that they need not proceed, " When d„ B^uay we asked him," wrote Sfr Edward Kame to JS^pewL*"" the king, " the cause of such hasty process, by t£^'*s'J,^n. he made answer that the imperialists at Rome J^^'t'Ji, had strengthened themselves in such a man- Ju^ement. ner, that they coacted the said Bishop of Rome to give sentence contrary to his own mind, and the expectation of himself and of the French king. He showed us also that the Lady Princess Dowager sent lately, in the month of March past, letters to the Bishop of Rome, and also to her proctors, whereby the Bishop of Rome was much moved for her part. The imperials, before the sentence was given, promised, in the emperor's be; half, that he would be the executor of the sentence," * This is all which we are able to say of the immediate catastrophe which decided the fate of England, and through England, of the world. The deep impenetra ble falsehood of the Roman ecclesiastics prevents us from discovering with what intentions the game of the last few weeks or months had been played ; it is suffi cient for Englishmen to remember, that, whatever may have been the explanation of his conduct, the pope, in the concluding passage of his connexion with this country, fumished the most signal justification which was ever given for the revolt from an abused authority. The supreme judge in Christendom had for six years trifled with justice, out of fear of an earthly prince ; he concluded these years with uniting the extreme cf folly with the extreme of improbity, and pronounced a sentence, wiUingly or unwUlingly, which he had ac knowledged to be unjust. 1 Sir Edward Knme and Dr. Eevett to Henry VIII. : State Papers, Vol vn, pp. 658, 554. 222 Obscurity of tht pope's Conduct. [Cu, va Charity may possibly acquit Clement of conscious Papal di- duplicity. He was one of those men wbo piomacy. waited upon fortune, and waited always with out success ; who gave his word as the interest of th« moment suggested, trusting that it might be convenient to observe it ; and who was too long accustomed to break his promises to look with any particular alarm on that contingency. It is possible, also, — for of this Clement was capable, —- that he knew from the begin- inng the conclusion to which he wotdd at last be driven ; fhat he had engaged himself with Charles to decide in Catherine's favour as distinctly as he had en gaged himself with Francis to decide against her ; and that all his tortuous scheming was intended either to weary out the patience of the King of England, or to entangle him m acknowledgments from which he would not be able to extricate himself. He was mistaken, certainly, in the temper of the Clement had English nation ; he beUeved what the friars StotokeS tol'i lii™ ; ^D"! trusting to the promises of dis- K^gSh tem*- affoctioH, insurrection, invasion — those ignes '™' fatui which for sixty years floated so delu sively before the Italian imagination, he imagined, per haps, that he might trifle with Henry with impunity. This only is impossible, that, if he had seriously in tended to ftdfil the promises which he had made to the French king, the accidental delay of a courier could have made so large a difference in his determination. But his true I* is uot possiblc that, if he had assured him JS^°^JS. self, as he pretended, that justice was on the *^'*- side against which he had declared, he would not have availed himself of any pretext to retreat from a position which ought to have been intolerable to him. iryu.] Mission of the Duke af Guise. 223 The question, however, had ended, " as all things in this world do have their end," The news of -^^^^ the sentence arrived m England at the begin- Z^^^ ning of AprU, with an intimation of the en- **" '^'=*'- gagements which had been entered upon by the impe rial ambassador for an invasion. Du Bellay returned to Paris nt the same time, to report the failure of his undertaking ; and Francis, disappointed, angry, and alarmed, sent the Duke of Guise to London with prom ises of support if an attempt to invade was really made, and with a warning at the same time to Henry to pre pare for danger. Troops were gathering in Preparation V,, 1 11 ° , , ° in Flanders inlanders; detacliments were on their way foraninva- cut of Italy, Germany, and Bohemia, to be land. followed by three thousand Spaniards, and perhaps many more ; and the object avowed for these prepara tions was wholly incommensurate with their magni- tude.i For his own sake, Francis could not pernut a successfril invasion of England, unless, indeed, he him self was to take part in it ; and therefore, with entire sincerity, he offered his services. The cordial under standing for which Henry had hoped was at an end ; but the political confederacy remained, which the in terests of the two countries combined for the present to preserve unbroken. Guise proposed another interview at Calais between the sovereigns. The king for the moment ane^wmw" was afraid to leave England,^ lest the oppor- ^^u^ . Henry. 1 State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 560, et seq. 2 His Highness, considering the time and the malice of the emperour, cannot conveniently pass out of the realm — since he leaveth behind him another daughter and a mother, with their iriends, maligning his enter prises la this behalf — who bearing no small grudge against his most entirely beloved Queen Anne, and bis young daughter the princess, inight perchance in his absence take occasion to esxogitate and practise with their 224 The French Fleet watch the Channel. [Ch, vn. tunity should be made use of for an insurrection ; but whichHeniy prudcuce ta,ught him, though disappointed MM™'*!™" ^ Francis, to make the best of a connexion there should ^qq convenient to be sacrificed. The Ger- be a nsmg in his absence, j^g^jj league was left in abeyance till the im mediate danger was passed, and tUl the effect of the shock in England itself had been first experienced. Ihe French Hc gladly acccptcd. In Ueu of it, an offer that t^CMnnei. the French fleet should guard the Channel through the summer; and meanwhUe, he coUected him self resolutely to abide the issue, whatever the issue was to be. The Tudor spfrit was at length awake in the Eng- Etfectofthe lish Sovereign, He had exhausted the re- upon Henry, sourccs of patienco ; he had stooped even to indignity to avoid the conclusion which had come at last. There was nothing left but to meet defiance by defiance, and accept the position to which the pope had driven him. In quiet times occasionally wayward and capricious, Henry, like Elizabeth after him, re served his noblest nature for the moments of danger, and was ever greatest when peril was most immediate. Woe to those who crossed him now, for the time was grown stern, and to trifle further was to le lost. The suspended act of parhament was made law on the day April 7. (it would seem) of the arrival of the sen- dedI?M the tence. Convocation, which was stiU sittmg, ffity^aboi- hurried through a declaration that the pope '*'"'*• had no more power in England than any other bishop,^ Five years before, if a heretic had ven tured so desperate an opinion, the clergy would have laid friends matters of no small peril to his royal person, realm, and aab* jects. — Stofe Papers, Vol. VH. p. 559. 1 Lord Herbert. 1584.] The Commission sits to receive the Oath. 225 shut their ears and run upon him : now they only con tended with each other in precipitate obsequiousness. The houses of the Observants at Canterbury and Greenwich, which had been implicated with the Nun of Kent, were suppressed, and the brethren were scat tered among monasteries where they could be under surveUlance, The Nun and her friends were sent to execution,^ The ordnance stores were examined, the repairs of the navy were hastened, and the The garn- , ,1 11 1 sons are garrisons were strengthened along the coast, strengthened Everywhere the realm armed itself for the coasts. struggle, looking well to the joints of its harness and to the temper of its weapons. The commission appointed under the Statute of Suc cession opened its sittings to receive the oaths The commia of allegiance. Now, more than ever, was it receive the , 1, , , , , oaths of al- necessary to try men s dispositions, when the icgiance pope had challenged their obedience. In words all went well : the peers swore ; bishops, abbots, priors, heads of coUeges, swore ^ with scarcely an exception, — the nation seemed to unite in an unanimous declara tion of freedom. In one quarter only, and that a very painfiil one, was there refiisal. It was found solely among the persons who had been implicated in the late conspiracy. Neither Sir Thomas More nor the Bishop of Rochester could expect that their recent conduct would exempt them from an obligation which the peo ple generally accepted with good wUl, They had con nected themselves, perhaps unintentionally, with a body 1 I mentioned their execution in connexion with their sentence ; but it did not take place till the 20th of April, a month after then- attainder: and delay of this kind was veiy unusual in cases of high treason. I have little doubt that their final sentence was in fact pronounced by the pope. 2 Tho oatl i of a great many are in Rymer, Vol. VI. part 2, p. 191^ etaeq. VOL. II 15 226 More and Fisher. [Ch.vd. of confessed traitors. An opportunity was offered them of giving evidence of their loyalty, and escaping from the shadow of distrust. More had been treated leniently ; Fisher had been treated far more than leni ently. It was both fair and natural that they should be called upon to give proof that their lesson had not been learnt in vain ; and, in fact, no other persons, if they had been passed over, could have been called upon to swear, for no other persons had laid themselves open to so just suspicion. Thefr conduct so exactly tallied, that they must sir Thomas havc agreed beforehand on the course which miSdto*^ they would adopt; and in foUowing the swear. details, we need concem ourselves only with the nobler figure. The commissioners sate at the archbishop's palace at Lambeth ; and at the end of April, Sir Thomas More received a summons to appear before tbem.i He was at his house at Chelsea, where for the last two years he had lived in deep retirement, making ready for evil times. Those times at length were come. On the morning on which he was to present himself, he He confesses coiifesscd and received the sacrament in church, Chelsea church ; and " whereas," says his great-grandson, " at other times, before he parted from his wife and children, they used to bring him to his boat, and he there kfssing them bade them fareweU, at this time he suffered none of them to follow him forth of his gate, but puUed the wicket after him, and with 1 His greai>grandson'8 history of him (.Life of Sir Thomas Mor^, by Cresacre More, writtet about 1620, published 1627, witb a dedication to Henrietta Maria) is incorrect in so many instances that 1 follow it with hesi tation ; but the account of the present matter is derived from Mr. Boper, Here's son-in-law, who accompanied him to Lambeth, and it is incidentally oenfiimed in various details by More himself. 1534,] More before the Commission. 227 A heavy heart he took boat with his son Roper," ^ He was leaving his home for the last time, and j^^^i 25. he knew it. He sat silent for some minutes, toa* toLam- and then, with a sudden start, said, " I thank *""'• our Lord, the field is won," Lambeth Palace was crowded with people who had come on the same errand with himself. More was called in early, and found Cromwell present with the four commissioners, and also the Abbot of Westminster, The oath neoathis was read to him. It implied that he should STd'h^"""' keep the statute of succession in all its parts, '"^' "¦ and he desfred to see the statute itself. He read it through, and at once replied that others might do as they pleased ; he would blame no one for taking the oath ; but for himself it was impossible. He would swear wUlingly to the part of it which secured the succession to the children of Queen Anne,^ That was a matter on which parliament was competent to decide, and he had no right to make objections. If he might be allowed to take an oath to this portion of the statute in language of his own, he would do it ; but as the words stood, he would " peril his soul" by using them. The Lord Chancellor desfred him to reconsider his answer. He retired to the garden, and in He is desired his absence others were called in ; among J^^nSdeT* them the Bishop of Rochester, who refused pl'he"™"' In the same terms. More was then recalled, l^^ie,1nd ile was asked if he persisted in his resolu- SSlt^ta' 'ion ; and when he replied that he did, he"*'^'™"- vas requested to state his reasons. He said that he >as afraid of increasing the king's displeasure, but if ' More's Ufe of More, p. 232. ' More held extreme republican opinions on the tenure of kings, holding ut they Might be deposed by act of parliament. 228 He refuses to Swear. [Ch. vn, he coiUd be assured that he might explain himself safely, he was ready to do so. If his objection could then ba answered to his satisfaction, he would swear ; in the meantime, he repeated, very explicitly, that he judged no one — he spoke only for himself An opening seemed to be offered in these expressions Cranmer whlch was caught at by Cranmer's kind- Svean°eT hearted casuistry. If Sfr Thomas More cafeforhim, go^]^ jjqJ; condemn others for taking the oath, the archbishop said. Sir Thomas More could not he sure that it was sin to take It ; while his duty to his king and to the parliament was open and unquestioned. More hesitated for an instant, but he speedily recov ered his firmness. He had considered what But in vahi. , , , , , , , he ought to do, he said ; his conscience was clear about It, and he could say no more than he had said already. They continued to argue with him, but without effect ; he had made up his mind ; the -rictory, as he said, had been won, Cromwell was deeply affected. In his passionate regret, he exclaimed, that he had rather his only son had lost his head than that More should have refiised the oath. No one knew better than Cromwell that intercession would be of no further use ; that he could not himself a"'?• and they subdued only to colonize. The feudal system bound the noble to the lands which he possessed ; and a theory of ownership of estates, as consisting merely in the receipt of rents from other occupants, was alike unheard of in fact, and repugnant to the principles of feudal societv. To Ireland belongs, among 1 . n , 1- <• 1 • Abscntwism its other misfortunes, the credit ot having Munster, and West Munster, that was conquered by King Henry Fitz- Empress, [there were] left under tribute certain Irishmen of the principal blood of the Irish nation, that were before the Conquest inhabitants within every of the said portions; as in Leinster, the Cavanaghs of the blood of M'Morough, sometime king of the same ; in South Munster, the M'Carties, of the blood of the Carties, sometime kings of Cork ; in the other portion! of Munster, west ofthe river Shannon (Clare), where O'Brien is, which was never conquered in obedience to the king's laws, O'Brien and his blood have contmued there still, which O'Brien gave tribute to Bing Henry Fitz-Empress, and to his heirs, by the space of one hundred years. In Con naught was left under tribute certain of the blood of O'Connor, sometuns king of the same ; certain of the Kellies, and others. In Ulster were left certain of thj Neales, ofthe blood of the O'Neale. In Meath were left cer- tain of the blood of O'Melaghlint sometime king of the same; ani diven oOiers of Irish nations. — Baron Finglas's Breviate. Harris, p. 83. * Thomond seems to have been an exception. 240 Absentees. [Oh, vhl first given birth to absentees. The descendants ofthe first Invaders preferred to regard thefr inheritance, not as a theatre of duty on which they were to reside, but as a possession which they might farm for their indi vidual advantage. They managed their properties by agents, as sources of revenue, leasing them even among the Irish themselves ; and the tenantry, deprived of the supporting presence of their lords, and governed only in a merely mercenary spirit, transferred back thefr allegiance to the exUed chiefs of the old race,' 1 See Finglas's Breviate. 23 Hen. VI. cap. 9 : Irish Statute Book. 28 Hen, VIII. cap. 3 : Ibid. It seems in many cases to have been the result of accident, Irish lands descending to heuresses who married into Eng lish families. In other instances, forfeited estates were granted by the crown to English fovourites. The receiving rents, however, even though by unwilling absentees, was treated as a crime by Henry VIII. ; and Eng lish noblemen, to whom estates in Ireland had fallen, eillier by marriage or descent, on which they were unable to reside, were expected to grant such estates to other persons who were able to reside upon them, and willing. The wording of the Act of Absentees, passed in 1536, is very remarkable. " Forasmuch as it is notorious and manifest that this the king's land of Ire land, heretofore being inhabited, and in due obedience and subjection unto the king's most noble progenitors, hath principally grown unto ruin, disso lution, rebellion, and decay, by occasion that great dominions, lands, and possessions within the same, as well by the king's grants as by course of inheritance and otherwise have descended to noblemen of the realm of England, who having the same, demouring within the said realm of Eng land .... taking the profits of their said lands and possessions for a sea son, without provision making for any defence or keeping thereof in good order .... in their absence, and by their negligence have suffered the wild Irishrie, being mortal and natural enemies to the Kings of England, to enter and hold the same without resistance ; the conquest and winning whereof in the beginning not only cost the king's noble progenitors charges inestimable, but- also those to whom the land was given, then and many years aiter abiding within the said land, nobly and valiantly defended fhe same, and kept such tranquillity and good order, as the Kings of England had due subjection of the inhabitants thereof, and the laws were obeyed .... and after the gift or descent of the lands to the persons aforesaid, they and their heirs absented themselves out of the said land of Ireland, not pondering nor regarding the preservation thereof .... the King's Majesty that now is, intending the reformation of the said land, to foresee that the like shall not ensue hereafter, with the consent of his parliament," pronounces forfeited the estates of all- absentee proprietors, and theii right and title gone. 1615.] The Norman Irish. 241 This was one grave cause of the English failure , but sprious as It was, it would not have sufficed alone to explain the full extent of the evil. Some most power ful families rooted themselves in the soil, and never forsook it ; the Geraldines, of Munster and Kildare ; the Butlers, of Kilkenny ; the De Burghs, the Bir- mlngliams, the De Gourdes, and many others. If these had been united among themselves, or had re tained their allegiance to England, their influence could not have been long opposed successfully, Thefr several principalities would have formed separate cen tres of civilization ; and the strong system of order would have absorbed and superseded the most obsti nate resistance which could have been offered by the scattered anarchy of the Celts, Unfortunately, the materials of good were converted into the worst instruments of evil. If an Theassuni- ,,,111 , 1 1 1 , lation of the obiection had been raised to the coloniza- Norman tion of America, or to the conquest of India, native Ceits. on the ground that the character of Englishmen would be too weak to contend successfully against that of the races with whom they would be brought into contact, and that they would relapse into barbarism, such an alarm would have seemed too preposterous to be entertained ; yet, prior to experience. It would have been equally reasonable to expect that the modem Englishman would adopt the habits of the Hindoo or the Mohican, as that the fiery knights of Normandy would have stooped to imitate a race whom they despised as slaves ; that they would have flung away their very knightly names to assume a barbarous equiv alent ; ' and would so utterly have cast aside the com- 1 "The MacMahons in the north were anciently English, to wit, de- •cended fi-om the Fitz-Ursulas, which was a noble family in England; and VOL. II. 16 242 The Norman Irish. [Ch. viii mallding features of their Northern extraction, that their children's chUdren could be distinguished neither in soul nor body, neither in look, in dress, in language, nor in disposition, from the Celts whom they had sub dued. Such, however, was the extraordinary . fact. The Irish who bad been conquered in the field re venged their defeat on the minds and hearts of their conquerors ; and in yielding, jaelded only to fling over their new masters the subtle spell of the Celtic disposi- Moris of tion. In vain the government attempted to ment to re- stem the cvU, Statute was passed after stat- ^OTring^vii. ute forbidding the " Englishry " of Ireland to use the Irish language, or intermarry with Irish fam iUes, or copy Irish habits,^ Penalties were multiplied on penalties ; fines, forfeitures, and at last death itself, were threatened for such offences. But all in vain. Fresh coio- The Stealthy evil crept on irresistibly,* Fresh nlsts &om , , . , 1 1 England fol- colonists wcrc scut over to restore the system, same course, but oiily for tbcmsclves or their chUdren to be swept into the stream ; and from the century which succeeded the Conquest tiU the reign of the eighth the same appeareth by the significance of their Irish names. Likewise the M'Sweenies, now in Ulster, were recently of the Veres in England; bnt that they themselves, for hatred of the English, so disguised their names." Spenser's Vieie of the State of Jrtliind. So the De Burghs became Bouikes or Burkes ; the Munster Geraldines merged their family names in that of Desmond ; and a yomiger branch of them called themselves M'Shehies. 1 Statutes of Kilkenny. Printed by the Irish Antiquarian Society. Fin glas's Breviate. 2 The phenomenon must have been observed, and the inevitable conse quence of it foreseen, very close upon the Conquest, when the observation digested itself into a prophecy. No story less than three hundred yean old could easily have been reported to Baron Finglas as having originated with St. Patrick and St. Columb. The Baron says — " The four Saints, St Patrick, St. Columb, St. Braghan, and St. Moling, many hundred yean agone, made prophecy that Englishmen should conquer Ireland ; and mi that the said Englishmen should keep the land. in prosperity as long ai they should keep their own laws ; and as soon as they should leave and &U to Irish order, then they should decay." — Harris, p. 88. 1515.] The Norman Irish. 243 Henry, the strange phenomenon repeated itself, gen eration after generation, baffling the wisdom of states men, and paralysing every effort at a remedy. Here was a difficulty which no skUl could contend against, and which was increased by the exertions which were made to oppose it. The healthy elements which were introduced to leaven the old became them- ¦elves infected, and swelled the mass of evil ; and the dearest observers were those who were most disposed to despair. Popery has been the scapegoat which, for the last three centuries, has borne the reproach of Ire land ; but before popery had ceased to be the faith of the world, the problem had long presented itself in all its hopelessness, "Some say" (this is the Despair of language of 1515), " and for the most part statesmen. every man, that to find the antldotum for this disease is impossible — for what remedy can be had now more than hath been had unto this time ? And there was never remedy found in this two hundred year that could prosper ; and no medicine can be had now for this infirmity but such as hath been had afore this time. And folk were as wise that time as they be now ; and since they could never find remedy, how should remedy be found by us ? And the Pander maketh answer and saith, that it is no marvel that our fathers The herbs that were of more wit and wisdom than we, ^ow wUch couLl not find remedy in the premises, for "^l^^^ the herbs did never grow. And also he saith ''™'*"*- that the wealth and prosperity of every land is tbd com monwealth of the same, and not the private wealth ; and all the EngUsh noble folk of this land passeth always thefr private weal ; and in regard thereof setteth little or nought by the common weal ; insomuch as there is no common folk in all this world so little set by, so 244 The NorvMni Irish. [Cavni greatly despised, so feeble, so poor, so greatiy trodden nnder foot, as the king's poor common folk be of Ire land," 1 There was no true care for the common weal — that was the especial peculiarity by which jthu Causes ofthe higher classcs in Ireland were unfortunately romiption. distinguished," In England, the last consider- ation of a noble-minded man was his personal advan tage ; Ireland was a theatre for a universal scramble of selfishness, and the Invader^s caught the nationajrcon- tagion, and became, as the phrase went, ipsis Mihmm Hibemiores. The explanation of this disastrous phenomenon lay The outward partl}' In the circumstances in which they BtonoS of were placed, partly in the inherent tendencies the chiefe. ^f humau nature itself The Norman nobles entered Ireland as independent adventurers, who, each for himself, carved out his fortune with his sword ; and,, .unsupported as they were from home, or supported only at precarious intervals, divided from one another by large tracts of country, and surrounded by Irish dependents, it was doubtless more convenient for them to :govern by humouring the habits and traditions to which their vassals would most readily submit. The inability of English government, occupied with Scotland prinwTto'' ^"d France, had no leisure to maintain a S^Ltog * powerful central authority ; and a central '™^' disciplinarian rule enforced by the sword was contrary to the genius of the age. Under the feudal system, the kings governed only by the consent and with the support of the nobUity ; and the maintenance at DubUn of a standing military force would have been regarded wilh extreme suspicion In England, as well as in Ireland, Hence the affairs of both countries werSt » Report on the State of Ireland, 1.515: Slate Papers, Vol. H. pp. 17, M. UM.] The Norman Irish. 245- for the most part, admialstered under the same forms, foims which were as Ul suited to the waywardness of the Celt, as they met exactly the stronger nature of the Saxon, At intervals, when the government was exas perated by unusual outrages, some prince of the Mood was sent across as viceroy ; and half a century of ac quiescence in disorder would be foUowed by gpaamodic a spasmodic severity, which irritated without thet^ta- subduing, and forfeited affection, while It '»'™*'»"- failed to terrify. At all other times, Ireland was gov erned by the Norman Irish, and these, as the years went on, were tempted by their convenience to strengthen themselves by Irish alUances, to identify their interests with those of the native chiefs. In order to flonciliate their support ; to prefer the position of wild and independent sovereigns, resting on the attach ment of a people whose affections they had gained by learning to resemble them, to that of military lords over a hostUe population, the representatives of a distant authority, on which they could not rely. This is a partial account of the Irish difficulty. We must look deeper, however, for the fuU interpretation of it ; and outward circumstances . never alone suffice to explain a moral transformation. The Roman military colonists remained Roman aUke on the Rhine and on the Euphrates, The Turkish conquerors caught no infection from Greece, or from the provinces on the Danube, The Celts in England were absorbed by the Saxon invaders ; and the Mogul and the Anglo-Iftdian alike have shown no tendency to assimilate with the Hindoo, When a marked type of human character yields befiire another, the change is owing to some ele ment of power In that other, which coming in contact with elements weaker than itself, subdues and absorbs 246 The Norman Irish. [Ch, vixl them. The Irish spirit, which exercised so fatal a PeeuUar fascluatlon, was enabled to triumph over the ^'iSh' Norman In virtue of representing certain '*™**'- perennial tendencies of humanity, which are latent in aU mankind, and which opportimity may at any moment develope. It was not a national spirit — the clans were never united, except by some common hatred ; and the normal relation of the chiefs towards each other was a relation of chronic war and hostihty. It was rather an impatience of control, a deliberate preference for disorder, a determination in each indi vidual man to go his own way, whether it was a good way or a bad, and a reckless hatred of industry. The result was the inevitable one — oppression, misery, and wrong. But In detail faults and graces were so inter woven, that the offenslveness of the evil was disguised by the charm of the good ; and even the Irish Stofev^ vices were the counterfeit of virtues, con- nrtue. trlvcd SO cunnlugly that It was hard to distin guish their true texture. The fidelity of the clansmen to thefr leaders was faultlessly beautiful ; extravagance appeared like generosity, and improvidence like un selfishness ; anarchy disguised itself under the name of liberty ; and war and plunder were decorated by poetry as the honourable occupation of heroic natures. Their pecu- Such wcro the Irlsh with whom the Norman liar charm, couqucrors fouud themselves in contact ; and over them all was thrown a peculiar imaginative grace, a careless atmosphere of humour, sometimes gay, some times melancholy, always attractive, which at once dis armed the hand which was raised to strike or punish them. These spirits were dangerous neighbours. Men who first entered the country at mature age might be fortified by experience against their influence, but on 1615.] The Norman Irish. 247 the young they must have exerted a charm of fatal potency. The foster-nurse first chanted the The foster- n , i_ jii • -1 1 , 1 nurses and spell over the cradle in wild passionate melo- the minstrels. dies,^ It was breathed in the ears of the growing boy by the minstrels who haunted the haUs,^ and the law less attractions of disorder proved too strong for the manhood which was trained among so perilous ass^cia tions. For such a country, therefore, but one form of gov ernment could succeed — an efficient mili- a military tary despotism. The people could be whole- the only somely controlled only by an English deputy, which couid sustained by an English army, and armed ceeded. with arbitrary power, till the inveterate turbulence of their tempers had died away under repression, and they had learnt in their improved condition the value of order and rule. This was the opinion of all states men who possessed any real knowledge of Ireland, from Lord Talbot under Henry VI, to the latest viceroy who attempted a milder method and found it fail, " If fche king were as wise as Solomon the Sage," said the report of 1515, " he shall never subdue the wild Irish to his obedience without dread of the sword and of the might and strength of his power. As long as they may resist and save their lives, they will not obey the king," 3 Unfortunately, although English statesmen 1 Some sayeth that the English noble folk useth to deliver their children to the king's Irish enemies to foster, and therewith maketh bands. — State Papers, Vol, II. p. 13. 2 " Harpers, rhymers, Irish chroniclers, bards, and ishallyn (ballad sing ers) commonly go with praises to gentlemen in the English pale,'^raising m rhymes, otherwise called ' danes,' their extortions, robberies, and abuses as valiantness ; which rejoiceth them in their evil doings, and procures a Salent of Irish disposition and conversation in them." — Cowley to Crom weU: Ibid. Vol. II. p. 450. There is a remarkable passage to the same ilfect in Spenser's 'View cf the Siate of Ireland: ' State of Ireland, and plan for its reformation: State Papers, Yol. II 248 Weakness of the English Bule. [Ch. vm were able to see the course which ought to be followed, The English J* ^^^^ ^^^"^ *°° Inconvenlent to pursue that B^tt™nfces- course. They had put off the evU day, not Mt u™ra preferring to close their eyes agauist the mis- '*¦ chief instead of grappling with It resolutely ; and thus, at the opening of the sixteenth century, when The'Biand the hltherto neglected barbarians were about pletely Irish to become a sword in the pope's hands to fight In the 16th , , , . , -r. n . ,i ,,i- • century. the battle against the Ketormation, the " king's Irish enemies " had recovered aU but absolute possession of the island, and nothing remained of Strongbow's con quests save the shadow of a titular sovereignty, and a country strengthened in hostUity by the means which had been used to subdue it. The events on which we are about to enter require Division of for their understanding a sketch of, the posi- tbe country, .(.j^jj q( i^\^q yarlous chlcfs, as they were at this time scattered over the island. The English pale, orig- The English inally comprising " tbe four shires," as they pale. were called, of Dublin, KUdare, Meath, and Uriel, or Louth, had been shorn down to half Its old dimensions. The line extended from Dundalk to Ardee ; from Ardee by Castletown to Kells ; thence through Athboy and Trim to the Castle of Maynooth ; from Maynooth it crossed to Claine upon the Liffey, and then followed up the line of the river to Ballimore Eustace, from which place it skirted back at the rear of the Wicklow and Dublin mountains to the forts at Dalkey, seven miles south of Dublin,^ This narrow strip alone, some fifty miles long and twenty broad, was in any sense English, Beyond the borders the common law of England was of no authority ; the king's writ was but a strip of parchment ; and the country was 1 Report on the State of Ireland: State Papers, Vol. II. p. 22. 1615.] Distribution of the Irish Clans. 249 parcelled among a multitude of Independent chiefs, who acknowledged no sovereignty but that of strength, wha levied tribute on the inhabitants of the pale as a Veward for a nominal protection of thefr rights, and as a com pensation for abstaining from the plunder of their farms,^ Their swords were their sceptres ; thefr codes of ri^t, the Brehon traditions, — a convenient system, which was called law, but which in practice was a happy contrivance for the composition of felonies,^ These chiefs, ¦with their dependent clans, were dis tributed over the four provinces in the follow- ireiaud be ing order. The Geraldines, the most power- ^^^^Z- ful of' the remaining Normans, were divided ^a by the mto two branches. The Geraldmes of the ^^.'^'tril south, nnder the Earls of Desmond, held ^"''™- 1 Baron Finglas, in his suggestions for a reformation, urges that "no black rent be given ne paid to any Irishman upon any of the four shires from henceforward." — 'Harris, p. 101. "Many an Irish captain keepeth imd preserveth the king's subjects in peace without liurt of their enemies; masmuch as some of those hath tribute yearly of English meu .... not to the intent that they should escape harmless ; but tb the intent to devour them, as the greedy hound delivereth the sheep from the wolf." — State Papers, Vol. II. 3>p. 16, 17. 2 Eudoscus — What is that which you call the Brehon Law? It is a, word unto us altogether unknown. Ir'emeus — It is a rule of right, unwritten, but delivered by tradition from one to another, in which oftentimes there appeareth great show of equity in determining the right between parties, but in many things re pugning quite both to God's law and man's. As, for example, in the case of murder, the Brehon, that is, their judge, will compound between the murderer and the friends of the party murdered, which prosecute the action, that the malefactor shall give unto them or unto the child or wife of him that is slain, a recompence which they call an Eriarch. By which Vile law of theirs many murders are made np and smothered. Add this judge being, as he is called, the Lord's Brehon, adjudgeth, for the most part, a better share unto his Lord, that is the Lord of the soil, or the head of that sept, ar.d also unto himself for his judgment, a greater portion than unto the plaintiffs or parties grieved. — Spenser's View of the State of Ire land. Spenser describes the system as he experienced it in active operation Ancient written collections of the Brehon laws, however, existed and stiU exist. 250 Distribution of the Irish Clans. [Ch. viu Limerick, Cork, and Kerry ; the Geraldines of Leui- ster lay along the frontiers of the EngUsh pale ; and the heads of the house, the Earls of KUdare, were the feudal superiors of the greater portion of the English counties. To the Butlers, Earls of Ormond and Ossory, belonged Kilkenny, Carlow, and Tlpperary, The De Burghs, or Bourkes, as they caUed themselves, were scattered over Galway, Roscommon, and the south of SUgo, occupying the broad plains which lie between the Shannon and the mountains of Connemara and Mayo, This was the relative position into which these clans had settled^ at the Conquest, and it had been maintained with little variation. The north, which had fallen to the Lacies and the De Courcies, had been wholly recovered by the Irish, The Lacies had become extinct. The De Courcies, once Earls of Ulster, had migrated to the south, and were reduced to the petty fief of Kinsale, which they held under the Desmonds, The Celtic chieftains had retumed from the mountains to which they had been driven, bringing back with them, more Intensely than ever, the Irish habits and traditions. Old men, wbo were alive In 1533, remembered a time when the Nor man famihes attempted to Uve in something of an Eng lish manner,-' and when there were towns in the nuddle of Ireland with decent municipal Institutions, The wars of the Roses had destroyed the remnants of Eng Ush influence by calling away a number of leading 1 By relation of ancient men in times past wiUiln remembrance, all the English lords and gentills within the pale heretofore kept retinues of Eng lish j'eomen in their houses, after the English fashion, according to the ex tent of their lands, to the great strength and succour of their neighbours the king's subjects. And now for the most part they keep horsemen and knaves, which live upon the king's subjects; and keep in manner no hos pitality, but live upon the poor. — The Council of Ireland to the Master power 262 The Irish Beaction. [Cir. vm. from rendering the assistance to the crown which they desired, Wexford, Wicklow, and the mountains of Dublin, were occupied by the Highland tribes of O'Bryne and O'Toole, who, in their wild glens and dangerous gorges, defied attempts to conquer them, and who were able, at all times. Issuing down out of the passes of the hills, to cut off communication with the pale. Thus the Butlers had no means of reaching Dublin except through the county of Kildare, the home of their hereditary rivals and foes. This Is a general account of the situation of the va rious parties in Ireland at the beginning of the six teenth century, I have spoken only of the leading families ; and I have spoken of them as if they pos sessed some feudal supremacy, — yet even this slight thread of order was in many cases without real con sistency, and was recognised only when fear, or passion, or interest, prompted, " There be sixty counties. Sixty chief Called reglous, in Ireland," says the report lords in Ire- „ .. -^ ,. ,-, ,. , ., , ,, ,t,i land, who of 1515, " inhabited with the king s Irish ene- made war , . , . ^ and peace for mics, somc r6gions as big as a shire, some themselves ' o o ' and obeyed morc, somc Icss, wherc reigneth more than sword. sixty chief captains, whereof some calleth themselves kings, some king's peers in thefr language, sqfae princes, some dukes, that liveth only by the sword^ and obeyeth to no other temporal person save only to himself that is strong. And every of the said captains maketh war and peace for himself, and holdeth by the sword, and hath imperial jurisdiction, and obeyeth no otlier person, English or Irish, except only to such per sons as may subdue him by the sword Also, In ineaohwf evcry of the said regions, there be .-fivers diTCre'rit P®**y captains, and every of them maketh oaptains, war and peace for himself, without licence of 1815.] Conditioji of the People. 253 his chief captain And there be more who jiaimed than thirty of the English noble folk that fol- pendencs. loweth this same Irish order, and keepeth the same rule," * Every man, in short, who could raise himself to that dishonourable position, was captain of a troop of banditti, and counted It his chief honour to live upon the plunder of his neighbour. This condition of things might have been expected to work its own cure, 'the earth wUl not support hu man life uncultivated, and men will not labour without some reasonable hope that they will enjoy the fruit of their labour. Anarchy, thei-efore. Is usuaUy whyanar- shortUved, and perishes of inanition, Un- ^^t^Sfg"^ mly persons must either comply with the """*¦ terms on which alone they are permitted to subsist, and consent to submit to some kind of order, or they must die. The Irish, however, were enabled to escape from this most wholesome provision by the recklessness of the people, who preferred any extremity of suffering to the endurance of the least restraint, and by the tyr anny under which the labouring poor were oppressed. In England, the same hands were trained to hold the sword and to hold the plough. The labourers and the artisans in peace were the soldiers in war. In Ireland. labour was treated as disgraceful ; the chiefs picked out the strongest and fiercest of their subjects, and ti-ained them only to fight ; the labourers were driven to the field as beasts of burden, and compelled to work im the chance that the harvest might be secured^ By this precarious means, with the addition of the wUd cattle which roamed In thousands among the woods and bogs, sufficient sustenance was extracted from thfe 'Oil to 'Support a scanty pojiulatioh, the majority of V StaU Papers, Vol. H. pp. 1, 5, 6. 254 Etiglish and Irish Estimation. [Ch. vm, whom were supposed to be the most wretched speci mens of human nature which could be found upon the globe, " What common folk in all this world," the Extreme report says, " is so poor, so feeble, so evil be- peopie. seen in town and field, so bestial, so greatly oppressed and trodden under foot, fares so evil, with so great misery, and with so wretched Ufe, as the common folk of Ireland ? What pity is here, what ruth is to report, there Is no tongue that can tell, ne person that can write. It passeth far the orators and muses aU to shew the order of the nobles, and how cruel they en- treateth the poor common people. What danger it is to tiie king against God to suffer his land, whereof he bears the charge and the cure temporal, to be in the said misorder so long without remedy. It were more honour to surrender his claim thereto, and to make no longer prosecution thereof, than to suffer his poor sub jects always to be so oppressed, and aU the nobles of the land to be at war within themselves, always shed ding of Christian blood without remedy. The herd must render account for his fold; and the king for his," 1 The EngUsh writer did not exaggerate the picture, Irish and for hls description Is too abundantlv confirmed English esti- . ^ /ii^i.«i. mate of the m cvcry page of the Celtic Annahsts, with nomenon. ouly but a sluglc difference. To the English man the perpetual disturbance appeared a dishonour and disgrace ; to the Celt it was the normal and natu ral employment of human beings, in the pursuit of which lay the only glory and the only manly pleasure, A population of such a character presented in Itself a difficulty sufficlentiy formidable ; and this difficulty was increased by the character of the famUy on whom 1 State Papers, Vol. II. p. 14. 1515.] Ireland for the Irish. 256 the circumstances of their position most obUged the EngUsh government to rely. There were two meth ods of maintaining the show of English sovereignty. Either an English deputy might reside In Dublin, sup ported by a standing army ; or it was necessary to place confidence In one or other of the great Irish noblemen, and to govern through him. Either method had Its disadvantages. The expense of the first was enoi-mous, for the pay of the common soldier was six pence or eightpence a^day — an equivalent of six or eight shillings ; and as the arrival of an English dep uty was the signal for a union throughout Ireland of all septs and clans against a common enemy, his presence was worse than useless, unless he could maintain a body of efficient troops numerous enough to cope with the coalition. At the same time the cost, great as it •would have been, must have fallen wholly on the crown, for the parliarnents would make no grants of money for the support of a mercenary army, except on extraordinary emergencies. On the other hand, to choose an Irish deputy was to acquiesce in disorder, and to lend a kind of official sanction to it. It was Inexpensive, however, and there fore convenient ; and evils which were not actually felt in perpetual demands for money, and in uncomfortable reports, could for a time be forgotten or ignored. In this direction lay all the temptations. The condition of the country was only made known to the English government through the deputy, who could represent it In such colours as he pleased ; and the government could persuade themselves that evils no longer com plained of had ceased to exist. This latter method, therefore, found most favour in London, Irish noblemen were glad to accept the offica 256 Coyne and Livery. [CH.vin. of deputy, and to dischal-ge it at a low salary or none ; The govern- t)ut It was in ordcr to abuse thefr authority Snd'con?^'' for thcIr personal advantage. They indem- Msh noWe- nihed themselves for their exertions to keep men. order, w hich was not kept, by the extortion which they practised in the name of the government which they represented ; and thus deservedly made the English rule more than ever detested. Instead of re- coyne and cclvlng payment, they were allowed while dep- toted by the uties what was Called " coyne and livery " ; deputies. ^j^g^j. Jg |g g^j^ they were aUowed to levy mil itary service, and to quarter their followers on the farmers and poor gentlemen of the pale ; or else to raise fines In composition, under pretence thit they were engaged In the service of the crown. The entfre cost of this system was estimated at the enormous sum of a hundred pounds a day.i The exactions might have been tolerated if the people had been repaid by protec- 1 The deputy useth to make great rodes, journeys, and hostings, now in the north parts of Ulster, now in the south parts of Munster, now ih the west parts of Connaught, and taketh the king's subjects with him by compulsion oft tim^s, with victual for three or four weeks, and chargeth the common people with carriage of the same, and giveth licence to all the noble folk to 'cesse and rear their costs on the common people and on the king's poor subjects ; and the end of that journey is commonly no other in elfect, but that the deputy useth to receive a reward of one or two hundred kyne to himself, and so depait, without any more hurt to the king's ene mies, after that he hath tumed the king's subjects and fhe poor common folk to their charge and costs of two or three thousand pounds. And over that, the deputy, on his progress and regress, oppresseth the king's poor comnion folk with horse meat and man's meat to all his host. And over that, in summer, when grass is most plenty, they must have oats or malt to their horse at will, or else money therefor. The p^emi^es considered, some saith the~ king's deputy, by extortion, chargeth the king's poor subjects and common folk, in horse meat and man's meat, by estimation, to the value of a hundred pound every day in the year, one day counted With another, which cometh to the sum Of 86,000 pounds yearly. — State Papers, Vol. II. p. 13. Finglas says that coyhe and livery would destroy hell itself, if it was used there. — Finglas^ Breviate. 1616.J The Geraldines of Kildare. 257 tion ; but forced as they were to pay black maU at tho same time to the Irish borderers, the double burdens had the effect of driving every energetic set- jij^ ^^^^^ tier out of the pale, and his place was fiUed ^X^h^ by some poor Irishman whom use had made *'"' '"'''*¦ acquainted with misery,^ Nor was extortion the only advantage which the Irish deputies obtained from their office, Theaerai- They prosecuted their private feuds with the dare, from revenues of the state. They connived at the uon, the crimes of any chieftain who would join their deputies. faction. Every conceivable abuse In the administration of the government attended the possession of power by the Geraldines of Kildare, and yet by the Geraldines It was almost inevitable that the power should be held. The choice lay between the Kildares and the Ormonds, No other nobleman could pretend to compete with these two. The Earls of Desmond only conld take rank as then- equals ; and the lordships of Desmond were at the opposite extremity of the island. The services of the Earls of Ormond were almost equally unavailable. When an Eari of Ormond was resldirig at Dublin as deputy, he was separated from his clan by fifty miles of dangerous road. The policy of the Getaldines was to secure the governinent for themselves by rhaking it impossible for any other person to govern ; and the ' The wretchedness of the country drove the Irish to ethi'grate in multi tildes. In 1524, twenty thousand of them had settled themselves in Pem brokeshire ; and the majority of these had crossed in a single twelvemonth. They brought with them Irish manners, and caused nb little trouble. "The king's town of Tenby," wrote a Welsh gentleman to Wolsey, "is tlinost clean Irish, as well the head men and rulers as the commons of the •aid town ; ahd of their high and presumptuous minds [they] do disobey ¦11 inanner the king's process that cometh to them ont of the king's ex chequer of Pembroke." — E. GryflSth to Cardinal Wolsey : Ellis, first seriei, Vol. I. p. 191, &c. VOL. n. 17 258 The Geraldines of Kildare. [Ch. viu appointment of their rival was a signal for the revolt of The poUcy of ^^ entire clan, both In Leinster and Muns- eanesteT'" t®''"- ^^^ Butlers were too weak to resist goveri^ent ^^^ Combination ; and inasmuch as they were eirce'pt to° thcmselves always loyal when a Geraldine was themselves, jjj power, and the Geraldines were disloyal when a Butler was in power, the desire to hush up the difficulty, and to secure a show of quiet, led to the con sistent preference of the more convenient chief. There were qualities also In the Kildare family which gave them peculiar Influence, not in Ireland only, but at the English court. Living like wild Irish In thefr castle at Maynooth, they appeared In London with the address of polished courtiers. When the complaints against them became too serious to neglect, they were summoned to give account of their conduct. They had only to present themselves before the council, and it was at once Impossible to believe that the frank, humor ous, high-minded gentlemen at the bar could be the monsters who were charged with so fearful crimes. Their ever-ready wit and fluent words, their show of bluntness and pretence of simplicity, disarmed anger and dispersed calumny ; and they returned on all such occasions to Ireland more trusted than ever, to laugh at the folly which they had duped. The farce had afready continued through two gener* The eighth atlous at the opening of the Reformation, Earl of Kil- ^ ii i . i i i , , ,11. dare in rebel- (jrerald, the eighth Carl, was twice m rebeUion Henry vn. agalust Hcury VII, He crowned Lambert Simnel with his own hand ; when Lambert Simnel feU, he took up Perkin Warbeck ; and under pretence of supporting a competitor for the crown, carried fire and sword through Ireland, At length, when England was wVet, Sir Edward Poynings was sent to Dublin to put M15.] The Geraldines of Kildare. 259 down this new King-maker, He took the earl prisoner, with some difficulty, and despatched him to He appears London, where he appeared at the council- councu, board, hot-handed from murder and treason. The king told him that heavy accusations would be laid to his charge, and that he had better choose some counsel to plead his cause. The earl looked at him with a smUe of simpUcIty. " I wUl choose the ablest in Eng land," he said ; " your Highness I take for my counsel against these false knaves," ^ The accusations were proceeded with. Among other enormities, Kildare had laumt the cathedral at Cashel, and the archbishop was present as witness and prosecutor. The earl confessed his offence : " but by Jasus," he added, " I would not have done It If I had not been told that my lord arch bishop was inside," ^ The insolent wit, and the danger of punishing so popular a nobleman, passed the reply as sufficient. The councU laughed, " AU who decide Ireland cannot govern this earl," said one, Ireland can- " Then let this earl govern aU Ireland," was him,hemu8t the prompt answer of Henry VII,* He was iand. sent over a convicted traitor, — he returned a knight of the Garter, lord deputy, and the representative of the crown, Rebelhon was a successful poUcy, and a lesson which corresponded so closely to the Irish temper was not forgotten, " What, thou fool," said Sfr Gerald Shaneson to a younger son of this nobleman, thirty years Eebeuion later, when he found him slow to join the ^^"^JJ^ rebeUion against Henry VIII, " What, thou «™""°'" 'col, thou shalt be the more esteemed for it. For what 1 Leland, VoL n, p. 110. ' Campion's Eittory of Ireland. Leland, Vol. II. p. Ill, ' Campion. Leland, 260 The Geraldines' df Kildafe. [Ch. vitt hadst thou, if thy fathei' had riot done so f What wa* he untU he crowned a king here, took Garth, the king's captain, prisoner, hanged his son, resisted Poynings and all deputies ; killed them of Dublin upon OxmantoWn Green ; would suffer no man to rule here for the king but himself! Then the king regarded hira, and made him deputy, and married thy mother to him ; ^ or else thou shouldst never have had a foot of land, tvher* now thou mayest dispend four hundred mafks by the year," ^ These scornful words express too truly the positiott of the Earl of Kildare, which, however, he found it convenient to disguise under a decent exterior. The borders of the pale Were paFtlally extended ; the O'Tooles were driven further into the Wicklow moun tains, and an outlying castle was buUt to overawe them at Powerscourt, Sortie shadow of a revenue was occa sionally raised ; and by this show of service, and be-' cause change would involve the crown in expense, he was allowed to go his oWh way. He held his ground till the close of his Ufe, and dying, he left behind him a son trained on his father's model, and who fallowed with the utmost faithfulness in his father's steps, Gerald, soil of Gerald, ninth earl, became deputy, Gerald, aliliost It Seemed by right of Inheritance, in bl^mlT^' 1513 ; and things were allowed to continue d6puiy,igi8. ij, tjjgjj, qIj course for another five years; when at length Henry VIII, awoke to the disgrace which the condition of the country reflected upon him. The report of 1515 Was the first step gained ; the Earl of Ormond contributed to the effect produced by the 1 The earl married Elizabeth, daughter of Oliver St. John, while in London. 2 Report to Cromwell, apparently hy Allen, Master of i'he Rolls: StaU Papers, Vol. II. p. 175. 1620.] Deputation of Lord Sumy. 261 report, with representations of the conduct of the deputy, who had been fortifying his own castle with government stores ; and the result was a resolution to undertake measures of real vigour. In 1520, is deposed ui the Earl of Kildare was deprived of his office, Eari'ofSur- 1 o -nil TV 1 "^y '^''^^ ^"^ and sent tor to England, His place was place. taken by the Earl of Surrey, who of all living English men combined in the highest degree the necessary qualities of soldier and statesman. It seemed as If the old weak forbearance was to last no longer, and as If frelani was now finally to learn the needful lesson of ,obedien:;e. But the first efforts to cure an inveterate evil rarely succeed ; and Henry VHI,, like every other statesman who has undertaken to reform Ireland, was to purchase experience by failure. The report had de- The report 11 I'll 1 1 T'l 1 . n had said that clared emphatically that the Irish chiefs ,theirish , , , , , , , , could never would never submit so long as they might be reformed resist, and escape with their lives ; that con- force. ciliation would be only interpreted as weakness ; and that the tyrannical lords and gentlemen must be co erced into equity by the sword freely used. The king, however, was young and sanguine ; he was unable to accept so hard a conclusion ; The king win he could not believe that any body of human it. beings were so hopelessly inaccessible to the ordinary means of influence as the Irish gentlemen were repre sented to be. He would first try persuasion, and have recourse to extremity only if persuasion failed, ^ His directions to the Earl of Surrey, therefore, were that at the earliest opportunity he should call j^^a ^^^^^ an assembly of so many of the Irish chiefs as fhrcwea « he could Induce to come to him, arid to dis- p^esof^- course to them upon the elementary principles «"""™* of social order and governraent. 262 Deputation of Lord Surrey. [Ch. vin. " We think it expedient," he wrote, " that when ye shaU call the lords and other captains of that our land before you, as of good congruence ye must needs do ; ye, after and amongst other overtures by your wisdom then to be made, shall declare unto thera the great decay, ruin, and desolation of that commodious and fertile land, for lack of politic governance and gcod justice ; which can never be brought in order unless the unbridled sensualities of insolent folk be brought jigij to under the rule of the laws. For realms wlth- Kr^ms o^t justice be but tyrannies and robberies, ac'e'be'buT" morc consonant to beastly appetites than to iyrannies. ^jjg laudable life of reasonable creatures. And whereas wilfulness doth reign by strength without law or justice, there is no distinction of propriety in dominion ; ne yet any raan raay say this is mine, but by strength the weaker is subdued and oppressed, which is contrary to all laws, both of God and man. He is not Howbelt, our mind is, not that ye shaU threaten, Imprcss OU them any opinion by fearful words, that we Intend to expel them from their lands and do minions lawfully possessed ; ne yet that we be minded to constrain them precisely to obey our laws, ministered But he is to ^y oil'' justices there ; but under good man- persuade, j^gj, ^.^ gjjo^ m^to them that of necessity it is requisite that every reasonable creature be governed by a law. And therefore, if they shall allege that cir And they laws there used be too extreme and rigorous ; their own and that it should be verv hard for them to laws if they "^ ^ , prefer it, if obscrve the same ; then ve mav further en- thosc laws be i /> i i i i , good and search ot them under what manners, and by BO only that what laws,. tbcv wUl be ordered and governed, they obey ' ./ o ' eome law, to the Intent that If their laws be good and Hve at will, reasonable, they may be approved ; and the isao.] Deputation of Lord Surrey. 263 rigour of our laws, if they shall think them too haid, be mitigated and brought to such moderation as they may conveniently live under the same. By which means ye shall finally Induce them of necessity to conform thefr order of living to the observance of some reason able law, and not to live at will as they have used here tofore," 1 So wrote Henry in 1520, being then twenty-eight years old, in his inexperience of human nature, and especiaUy of the Irish form of It, No words could be truer, wiser, or more generous ; but those only listen effectively to words of wisdom and generosity, who themselves possess something of the sarae qualities ; and the Irish would not have required that such an address should be raade to them if they had been capa ble of profiting by it. If Surrey was sanguine of any good result, he was soon undeceived. He gun.ey had no sooner landed than the whole country ^tantr^"^ was in arms against hira, — O'Neile, O'Car- i«'"°°> roll, O'Connor, O'Brien, Desmond, broke into simul taneous rebeUion, acting, as was proved by instigated by intercepted letters,^ under instructions which ^"i^"- Kildare had sent from England, Surrey saw at a glance the justice of the language of the re- ^j^j^^ „, port. He Informed Wolsey briefly of the fj^^^Si-" state of the country, and advised that unless "'^¦ 1 Hjnry VIII. to the Earl of Surrey: Stale Papers, Vol. II. pp. 52, 53. ' This is one of them, and another of similar import was found to have been sent to O'Neile. " Life and health to O'Carroll, from the Eari of Kil dare. There is none Irishman in Ireland that I am better contem with tlian with you; and whenever I come into Ireland, I shall do you good for •nything that ye shall do for me ; and any displeasure that I have done to you, 1 shall make you amends therefore, desiring you to keep good peace to Englishmen till an English deputy shall come there ; and when an Eng lish deputy shall come thither, do your best to make war upon Englishmen then, except such as be toward me, whom you know well yourself." — Stale Papers, V«L II. p. 45. 264 Deputation of Lord Surrey. [Ch. vm, the king was prepared for extreme raeasures, he should not waste money in partial efforts.^ Writing subse quently to Henry himself, he said that the work to be done was a repetition of the conquest of Wales by Edward I,, and it would prove at least, as tedious and as expensive. Nevertheless, if the king could make up his mind to desfre it, there was no insuperable diffi. culty. He would undertake the work himself with six thousand men. The difficulty would be then, how ever, but half overcorae, for the habits of the people were incm-able. Strong castles raust be buUt up and down the island, Uke those at Conway and Carnarvon; and a large Iramigration would be necessary of English colonists,^ Either as rauch as this should be done, the earl thought, or nothing. Half measures only made bad into worse ; and a policy of repression, if not con sistently maintained, was unjust and pernicious. It encouraged the better affected of the inhabitants to show their good will to the government ; and when the Irish were again In power, these persons were marked for vengeance. Practical experience was thus laid against Henry's Theking phllosophy ; and it would have been well if middle way; the king could havc discerned clearly on and Surrey i • i ¦ i i , ti i i- -n at length which Side the truth was hkely to he, r or recal. the mlsfortuue of Ireland, this was not the case. It was uiconvenlent at the moment to under take a costly conquest, Surrey was maintained with a short retinue, and from want of power could only enter upon a few partial expeditions. He infficteci a heavy defeat upon O'NeUe ; he stormed a castie of O'Connor's ; and showed, with the small means at bw 1 Stale Papers, Vol. II, p. 62. » Surrey to Henry VIII. : State Papers, Vol. II. pp. 72-74, isaao Beturn of Kildare. 26fi .disposal, what he might have done with far less support than he had required. He went where he pleased through the country. But his course was " as the way of a ship through the sea, or as the way of a bird through the afr," The elements yielded without resist ance, and closed in behind him ; and, after eighteen months of manful exertion, feeling the uselessness of further enterprises conducted on so small a scale, to the sorrow and alarra of the Irish council, he desired and obtained his recal. ^ Meanwhile, in England, the Earl of KUdare had made good use of his opportunities. In spite Kiidare finds of his detected leitters, he had won his way f"""'^- into favour. He accompanied Henry to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, where he distinguished himself by his briUiant bearing ; and instead of punishing hira as a traitor, the king aUowed him to marry Lady Eliza beth Grey, daughter of the Marquis of Dorset, and nearly related to the blood royal. He was Kiidare re- then permitted to return to Ireland; not, ^^'°^*' however, immediately as deputy. An inter- momi*dep- mediate effort was made to govern through '^'*^- Lord Ormond, whose intentions were exceUent, but unfortunately the Irish refused to submit to ^.j^^ g^j^j. him. The Eari of Desmond remained In I'^^^^ei, rebelhon, and invaded Kilkenny from the south ; and two years followed of universal insurrection, pillage, and raurder, Kildare accused Ormond to the English ¦sonncU as responsible ; ^ Ormond retorted with slnular charges against Kildare ; and comraissioners were sent over to "^ investigate," with instructions, if they saw i;eason, to replace Kildare in his old office. ' Cooncil of Ireland to Wolsey: StaU Papers, Vol. II.pp. 92, 93. * Campion says Kildare had a friend in the Duke of Suffolk — Mttory ff Irdand, by Edward Campion, p. 161. 266 Foreign Intrigues. [Ch, tul The permission was sufficient ; in 1524 he was And Kildare agal" deputy ; and no deliberate purpose of Is restored, misrule could have led to results more fatal. The earl, made bold by impunity, at once prepared for a revolt from the English crown. Hitherto he had been contented to raake himself essential to the main tenance of the English sovereignty ; he now launched out into bolder measures, and encouraged by Henry's weakness, resolved to dare the worst extremity. On Desmond ^^ breaking out of the French war of 1523- te^S with 24, his kinsmin, the Earl of Desmond, opened Francis I., ^ negotiation with Francis I, for the landing of a French army in Munster.-' Kildare, while profess- Kiidarese- Ing that he was endeavouring to take Des- cretly con- ^ - , i i i . nivinga'.it, moud prisoncr, was holding secret interviews ing for a with him to couccrt plans for a united move,^ surrection. and was Strengthening himself at the same time with alliances among the native chiefs. One of his daughters became the wife of the O'Connor ; an other married O'Carroll, of Leap Castle ; and- a third the Baron of Slane ; ^ and to leave no doubt of his intentions, he transferred the cannon and mUitary stores from Dublin Castle to his own fortress at May nooth, Lord Ormond sent information to England of these proceedings, but he could gain no hearing. For three years the Geraldines were allowed to continue their preparations undisturbed ; and perhaps they might The state of have matured their plans at leisure, so odious Sslt^'Lt ^^^ become the mention of Ireland to the dangerous. English Statesmen, had not the king's divorce, 1 Act of Attainder of tha Earl of Kildare: Irish Statute Book, 28 Hen. V III. cap. 1. An account of this negotiation is to be seen in i paper in tht British Museum, Titus, B. xi. fol. 352. 2 Act of Attainder of the Earl of Kildare: Ibid. • The elder sisters of the " fair Geraldine " of Lord Surrey. 15S7.J Desmond intrigues with the Emperor. 267 by embroiling him with the pope and emperor, made the danger serious. The alliance of England and France had discon certed the first scheme. No sooner was this Desmond ap- 11 -1 T7-.1 1 1 P^^®^ *° ***® new opportunity opened than, with Kildare s emperor. consent, Desmond applied to Charles V, with sirailar overtures,^ This danger was too serious to be neg-" 1 The emperor's chaplain, Gozalo Fernandez, was the agent through whom the correspondence with Desmond was conducted. — State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 186. And see Cotton MS., Vespasian, c. iv. fol. 264, 276, 285, 288, 297. — "He sent unto the emperour, provoking and enticing him to aend an army into this said land." — Act of Attainder of the Earl of Kil dare. See also Leland, Vol. II. p. 136. The account given by Gonzalo Fernandez of his visit to Desmond ia imong the Archives at Brussels, and supplies a curious picture of the state of the country. Report of Oonzalo Fernandez. " April 28, 1S29. " Ou arriving at the coast of Ireland we touched at a port belonging to the King of England named Cork. Many of the Irish people came ou board the ship, and told me that the gentleman of the Earl of Desmond iud just returned from Spain with presents from the Eraperor to the earl. " Leaving Cork, we were driven by bad weather into another harbour called Beran,* from whence I sent one of my servants to inform the earl of my arrival. In four days the earl's answer came, telling me that I was welcome, and that he was at a place called Dingle, where he hoped to see me. He addressed his letter to me as ' Chaplain of our Sovereign Lord the Emperor;' and this, I understand, is his usual mode of expression wheu ipeaking of his Majesty. He had also sent to some of the other noblemen '(|f the country, with whom he proposed to form a league, to tell them of my •nival. " I set out again, aud on the way five of the earl's people came to me to lay that their master had gone to a harbour a few miles off to capture some French and English vessels there, aud would be glad of my assistance. This I declined, and the earl, I understand, was satisfied with my excuses. " The day after, the 21st of April, we reached the said harbour of Diiigle, and were honourably received by the townspeople, and by a party of the earl's attendants. About four o'clock the earl retumed himself, attended by fifty horse and as many halberdiers. He came at once to my quarters, •nd ashed after the welfare of ' our Lord the Emperor.' I replied that, by tiu grace of God, his Majesty was well, and I had sent his commendations (•hit lordship. * Beerhaven, perhaps 208 Geraldine Conspiracy. [Ch. via KiidaM lected ; and in 1527, Kildare was a second 1^," " tirae sumraoned to London, He went, so " We then dined ; and afterwards the earl and his council repaired to my chamber, where we presented him with his Majesty's letter. He read it and his council read it. His Majesty, he said, referred him to me. I was commissioned to make known his Majesty's pleasure to him. I at once declared my instructions, first in English to the earl, and afterward m Latin to his council; which I said were to this effect. " ' One Godfrey, a friend of their lord, had lately presented himself to tlie En.pcror with their lord's letter, in vfhich their ior.', after speaking of the good-will and affection which he entertained tov/-ards the Emperor's Maj esty, had expressed a desire to enter into close alliance with his Majesty, as friend to friend and enemy to enemy, declaring himself ready, in all (hings and at all times, to obey his Majesty's commands. " ' Further, the said Godfrey had requested the Emperor to send a confi dential person to Ireland, to learn more particulariy their lord's intentions, and his resources and power; and further, to negotiate a treaty and estab lish a firm and complete alliance. For these purposes the Emperor com missioned myself. I was the bearer to them of his Majesty's thanks for their proposals, and I said I was so far in my master's confidence that I was as sured their lord might expect all possible assistance at the Emperor's hands.' " When I had done, the earl spoke a few words to his council. He then took off his cap, and said he thanked his Majesty for his gracious conde scension. He had addressed himself to his Majesty as to his sovereign lord, to entreat his protection. His Majesty was placed in this world in his bigh position, in order that no one prince raight oppress or injure another. Ho related his descent to me. He said that, between his family and the English, there had ever existed a mortal enmity, and he explained the cause to rae. " I replied that his Majesty never failed to support his allies and his sub jects, and should he claira assistance in that capacity, his Majesty would lielp hira as he helped all his other good friends. I advised the earl to put in writing the words which he had used to rae. He thought it would be enough if I repeated tbem ; but when I said the story was too long, and my memory might not retain it with accuracy, he said he would do as I desired. " We then spoke of the support for which he was looking, of his projects aud resources, and of the places in which he proposed to serve. He said he wanted from his Majesty four large vessels, two hundred tons each, six pinnaces well provided with artillery, and five hundred Flemings to work them. I said at once and earnestly, that such a demand was out of all rea son, before he, on his part, had achieved soraething in his Majesty's service. 1 remonstrated fully and largely, although, to avoid being tedious, I omit the details. In the end his council were satisfied that he must reduce his demands till his Majesty had more reason to know what was to be expected from bim, aud he consented, as will be seen by his owu memoir. ¦' Oi all men in the world the earl hates most deeply the Cardinal of York. 1527.] Geraldine Conspiracy. 269 confident was he of the weakness of the government, and again he was found to have calculated justly. He He told me he had been in alliance with France, and had a relation called De Quiudel, now with the French army iu Italy. In future, he said he would have no dealings with the French. As yonr Majesty's enemies, tbey were his enemies. "Tour Majesty will be pleased to understand that there are in Ireiaud four principal cities. The city of Dublin is the largest and richest in the island, and neither iu the town nor in the neighbourhood has the Earl of Desmond land or subjects. The Earl of Kildare is sovereign in that dis trict, but that earl is a kinsman of the Eari of Desmond, and has married his cousin. " The Earl of Kildare, however, is at present a prisoner in the Tower of London. " Of the other three cities, one is called Waterford, the second Cork, the third Limerick; aud in all of these the Earl of Desmond has lordships and vassals. He has dominions, also, among the wild tribes ; he has lords and knights on his estates who pay him tribute. He has sorae allies, but not BO many, by a great deal, as he has enemies. " He has ten castles of his owu, some of which are strong and well built, especially one named Dungarvan, which the King has often attempted to take without success. " The earl himself is from thirty to forty years old, and is rather above the middle height. He keeps better justice throughout his dorainions than any other chief in Ireland. Eobbers and homicides find no raercy, and are executed out of hand. His people are in high order and discipline. They are armed with short bows and swords. The earl's guard are in a mail fi'om neck to heel, and cany halberds. He has also a number of horse, some of whom know how to break a lance. They all ride admirably with out saddle or stirrup."' After the report of Gonzalvo Fernandez, Desmond himself continues in Latin. " Hereunto be added informations addressed to the invincible and most sacred Caesar, ever august, by the Earl of Desmond, Lord of Ogonyll and the liberties of Kilcrygge. " I, James Earl of Desmond, am of royal blood, and of the race of the Conqueror who did lawfully subdue Britain, great and small, and did reduce Scotland and Ireland under his yoke. " The first cause of Die enmity between myself and the King of England is m ancient prophecy or prediction, believed by the English nation, and written in their books and chronicles, that all England will be conquered by an Earl of Desmond, which enterprise I have not yet undertaken, " The second cause is that, through fear of this prophecy, the King of England has committed his powers to my predecessors who have borne rule in Ireland; and when Thomas Earl of Desmond, my grandfather, bl peaceable maimer attended Parliament in Iielaud, no cause being al 270 Kildare sent to the Tower. [Ch. via was arraigned before the councU, overwhelmed with •nd com- uivectives by Wolsey,^ and sent to the Tower. Tower. But he cscapcd by his old art. No sooner leged against him, iut merely in dread of the prophecy, they struck off his head. " The third cause is that, when Eichard, son of the King of lilngland \sic'], heard that there were ancient feuds between the English and my predecessors, he came to Ireland with an army and a great fleet in the time of my father; and then did my father make all Ireland to be subdued nnto himself, some few towns only excepted. " The fourth cause is that, by reason of the aforesaid feuds, the King of England did cause Gerald Earl of Kildare, my father's kinsman, to be destroyed in prison [destrui in earcerHmsl until that my father, by might and power, did liberate the said Earl of Kildare, and did obtain his own purposes, and did make his kinsman viceroy of Ireland. " The fifth cause is that, wheu peace was hardly begtm between my aforesaid &ther and the King of England, a certain sickness fell upon my father, I myself being then eight years old. " The King, when he heard this, made a league of Irish and English to kill my father; he being then, as they thought, unable to take the field. They, being banded together, made war against my father for twenty-four years, wherein, by God's grace, they had small success. " The sixth cause is that, when peace was made at last between the King that now is and myself, I, in faith of the said peace, sent certain of my servants to the parts beyond the seas to Flanders and France, and the attor neys of the King of England did despoil my servants of the sum of 9000i., and threw them into prison, where they now remain. " Hereon follows my supplication : — " These things premised, I, the aforesaid earl, do implore and entreat the invincible and most sacred Majesty of Caesar Augustus that he will deign to provide me with remedy, and I, with all my horses and people, do devote myself to your Majesty's service, seeing that your Majesty is appointed for the welfare of the oppressed, and to be lord paramount of all the earth. 1 " You remember how the lewd earl your kinsraan," he said to him, ' who passeth not whom he serve, might he change his master, sent his confederates with letters of credence to Francis the French King, and to Charles the Emperor, proffering the help of Munster and Connaught towards the conquest of Ireland, if either of them would help to win it firom »ur king. What irecepts, what messages have been sent you to apprehend him ? and yet uot done. Why so ? Forsooth I could not catch him. Yea, sir, it will be sworn and deposed to your face, that for fear of meeting him, you have winked, wilfully shunned his sight, altered your course, wamed his friends, stopped both eyes and ears against his detection. Surely this juggling and false play little became an honest man called to such honour, er s nnblemau put in such trust." — Campion, p, 165, 1528.] The Irish Bise. 271 was he committed, than Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald, who had accompanied him to England, hurried back across the Channel to the castie of her brother- o-oounor m- m-law, O'Connor,! The robber chief in- ™^'*>'"\e stantly rose and attacked the pale. The ^'*e-d?ut Marchers opened thefr lines to give his ban- p™"™''- ditti free passage into the interior ; ^ and he seized and ' T3 revsnge the injuries done to myself and my faraily by the King of England, I have the following powers ; that is to say, 16,600 foot and 15S>) horse. Aljo I have firiends, confederate with rae, whose names be these — " 1. The Prince O'Brien, who can make 600 horse and 1000 foot, 2. Trobal de Burgh 3. Sir Eichard Poer i. Lord Thomas Butler 5. Sir John Galty 6, Su: Gerald Fitzgerald 7. The White Knight 8. O'Donuell, Prince of Ulster 9. The Knight of the Valley 10. Baron MacMys 11. Captain Macguire " With divers others whose names be here omitted. " Moreover, I, the aforesaid James PZarl of Desmond, do make known to the Majesty of C.-esar august, that there is an alliance between me and the King of Scotland, and, by frequent embassies, we understand each other's purposes and intentions. "Finally, divine grace permitting, I intend to gather together my own and my friends' powers, and lead them in person against Piers Butler, dep uty of the King of England, and against Limerick, Wexford, and Dublin, the cities which the King holds in Ireland. " For the aid for which I look from your Majesty, I desire especially can non available for land service and fit for breaching castles. May it please your Majesty, therefore, to send me cannon, that I may be the better able to do your Majesty service. "And for myself, I promise on my faith to obey your Majesty in all thisgs. lwill be friend of your fi*iends; enemy of your enemies; and yom Hajesty's especial and particular subject. If ever I chance to displeye you, ( will submit myself to your correction and chastisement. " Written ill my town, this 28th day of April, 1529, in the presence of Sonzalvo Fernandez, Denys Mac D o. Doctor of Arms and Medicines Denys Tathe, Maurice Herly. James of De8MOhi>." <- The Pilgrim, pp. 171-175. 1 StaU Papers, Vol. IL pp. 146, 147. « Norfolk to "Wolsey: Ibid. p. 135. , 100 J) 600 , 40 200 , 60 ») 240 , 80 n 400 , 40 )) 200 , 400 J) 800 „ , 800 11 4000 , 40 » 240 , 40 )) 500 , , 30 " 200 , 272 The Duke of Bichmond Viceroy. [Ch. viii carried off prisoner the Baron of Deivin, who had been made vice-deputy on KUdare's departure, Desmond meanwhUe held Ormond in check at Kilkenny, aud prevented him from sending assistance to Dublin ; and the Irish council were at once prostrate and helpless, Henry VIII,, on receipt of this intelligence, instead of sending Kildare to the block and equipping an ai my, condescended to write a letter of remonstrance to O'Connor, " A letter from the king ! " said the insolent chieftain when it was brought to him, " what king ! If I may live one year, I trust to see Ireland in that case that there shall be no more mention here of the King of England than of the King of Spain," ^ Still, however. It was thought inconvenient to venture 3xtremities, Henry allowed himself to make use of KUdare's assistance to soothe the immediate storm.^ An old desire of the Irish had been that some prince of the blood should govern them ; ^ he nominated^ The Duke of therefore, his natural son, the Duke of Rich- Bichmond , , i i , i viceroy. moud, as viccroy ; and having no adequate force in Ireland to resist an Insurrection, and no imme diate means of despatching any such force, he was once more obUged to pardon and restore the traitorous Geraldine ; appointing, at the sarae tirae. Sir William Skeffington Skeffiufftoii, a modcratclv able man, though made deputy i i r> i • i > to govern too old for dutv, as the Duke of Richmond s withthehelp , i i, . , , ¦ i i of Kildare. deputy, and directing him to govern with the advice and cooperation of the Earl of Kildare, To this disastrous weakness there was but one coun- appinted" terpoIsc — that the English party in the coun- or'nubSL'''' ^^^ °f Ireland was strengthened by the ap- 1 State Papers, Vol. II. p. 146. 2 It had been partially subdued by Lord James Butler. — Irish statute as Henry VIII. cap. 1. « O'Brien of Thomond to Henry VIII. : StaU Papers, Vol. II. 1532.] TJiird Deputation to Kildare. 273 pointment of John Allen to the archbishopric of Dub lin and the office of chancellor, Allen was one of the many men of talent who owed their elevation to Wolsey, He was now sent over to keep watch on Kildare, and to supply the government with accurate information which might be relied upon as a ground for action. Till this time (and the fact is one which ought to be borne In mind), the government had been forced to depend for their knowledge of the state of the country either on the representations of the dep uty, or the private accusations of his personal ene mies ; both of them exceedingly untrustworthy sources. Henceforward there runs a clear stream of light through the fog and night of confiision, furnished either by the archbishop or by Allen, Master of the Rolls, who was most likely his kinsman. The policy of conciliation, if conduct so feeble de serves to be called a policy at all, had now reached its Umit ; and it amounted to confessed imbecility. Twice deposed from power on clear evidence of high treason, Lord Kildare was once more restored. It cost him but a Uttle time to deliver himself of the presence of Skef fington ; and in 1532 he was again sole dep- KUdare a uty, AU which the Earl of Surrey had fore- deputy. told came to pass. Archbishop Allen was deprived of the chanceUorship, and the Archbishop of Armagh, a creature of the Geraldines, was substituted in his place. Those noblemen and gentlemen who had lent them selves to the interests of the English in the earl's absence were persecuted, imprisoned, or murdered. They had ventured to be loyal from a belief in the assurances which had been made to them ; but the gov ernment was far off and Kildare was near ; and such of them as he condescended to spare " were now VOL. n. 18 274 Ireland in its Ideal State. [Ch. vm. driven hi self-defence, maugre thefr wills, to foUow with the rest," ^ The wind which filled the saUs of the ship in which Kildare returned, blew into flames Saturnalia of ^^c fires of Insurrection ; and in a very Sat- madncss. urnalia of Irish madness the whole people, with no object that could be discovered but for very deUght In disorder Itself, began to tear themselves to pieces. Lord Thomas Butler was murdered by the Geraldines ; Kildare himself was shot through the body in a skfrmish ; Powerscourt was burnt by the O'Tooles ; and Dublin Castle was sacked in a juddea foray by O'Brien Oge. O'Neile was out in the north; Desmond in the south ; and the English pale was over run by brigands,^ Ireland had found Its way into its ideal condition — that condition towards which its in stincts perpetually tended, and which at length it had undisputedly reached. The AUens furnished the king Despatch of with a Very plain report of the effect of his Aliens. leniency. They dwelt boldly on the mistakes^ which had been made. Reechoing the words of the Report of 1515, they declared that the only hope for the country was to govern by English deputies ; and that to grudge the cost seemed " consonant to the na ture of him that rather than he wIU depart with four- pence he will jeopard to lose twenty shUlings — which fourpence, disbursed in time, might have saved the other," 2 They spoke well of the common Irish, "If well governed," they said, " the Irish would be found as civil, politic, and active, as any other nation, Bnt what subjects under any prince in the world," they %sked, " would love or defend the rights of that prince 1 Eeport of 1533: State Papers, Vol, II. pp. 163-179, 2 StaU Papers, Vol. IL p. 180. » Thid- n. 1'7'7 I»84.] New Aspects of Irish Bebellion. 275 who, notwithstanding thefr true hearts and obedience, would afterwards put them under the governance of such as would persecute and destroy them ? " Faith must be kept with those to whom promises had been made, and the habit of rewarding treason with conces sions must be brought to an end, " Till great men suffer for their offences," they added, signifi- im great cantly, "your subjects within the English there would pale shaU never live in quietness, nor stand m Ireland. sure of their goods and lives. Therefore, let your dep uty have in commandment to do justice upon great thieves and malefactors, and to spare your pardons," ^ These were but words, and such words had been already spoken too often to deaf ears ; but the circum stances of the time were each day growing more per ilous, and necessity, the true mother of statesmanship, was doing its work at last. The winter months passed away, bringing only an increase of wretchedness. At length opened the event- fill year of 1534, and Henry learnt that excommunica tion was hanging over hira — that a striiggle for life or death had commenced — and that the imperial armies were preparing to strike in the quarrel. From that time onward the King of England became a new man. Hitherto he had hesitated, temporized, de- . Henry layed — not with Ireland only, but with the last manifold labours which were thrust upon him. At last he was awake. And, Indeed, it was high time. With a religious war apparently on the eve of explo sion, he could ill tolerate a hotbed of sedition at bis door; aud Irish sedition was about to receive into itself a new element, which was to make It trebly dangerous. 1 StaU Papers, Vol. II. p. 192. 276 Irdand and the Papacy. [Ch. via UntU that moraent the disorders in Ireland had arisen ihereu^oua out of a natural preference for anarchy. mtroduced Evcrv mau's hand was against his neighbour, sedition. and the clans made war on each other cnly for revenge and plunder and the wild delight of the garae. These private quarrels were now to be merged in a single cause — a cause which was to lend a fresh stiraulus to their hatred of England, and was at once to create and consecrate a national Irish spirit. The Irish were erainently Catholic ; not in the high sense of the word, — for " the noble folk " could " op press and spoU the prelates of the Church of Christ of their possessions and liberties " without particular scru ple,^ — but the country was covered with churches and monasteries in a proportion to the population far beyond what would have been found in any other country in Europe ; and there are forms of superstition which can walk hand in hand with any depth of crime, when that superstition Is provided with a talisman which will wash away the stains of guilt. The love of fighting was in- The pope hereut, at the same time, in the Celtic nature, Irish a And sucli a people, when invited to indulge ready-made , . , . i p i i i army. their humour m the cause ot the church, were an army of insurrection ready made to the hands of the popes, the value of which their Holinesses were not slow to learn, as they have not been quick to forget,^ Henry was aware of the correspondence of Desmond with the emperor. He, perhaps, also expected that the fiction raight be retorted upon him (as it actually was) 1 Siate Papers, Vol. III. p. 10. 2 It is remarkable that, as I believe, there is no instance of the act of heresy having been put in force in Ireland. The Irish Protestant church counts many martyrs ; but they were martyrs who fell by murder in the later massacres. So far as I can leam, no Protestant wan ever tried and executed there by form of law. 1834.] Kildare is sent to the Tower. 217 which had been invented to justify the first conquest of the island. If Ireland was a fief of the pope, the same power which had raade a present of it to Henry II, might as justly take it away from Henry VIII, ; and the peril of his position roused him at length to an effort. It was an effort still clogged by fatality, and less than the emergency required : but it was a begin ning, and it was something. In February, 1534, a raonth before Clement pro nounced his sentence, the Earl of Kildare was February required, for the third and last time, to appear third time and answer for his offences ; and a third time England. he ventured to obey, ^ut England had become a changed world in the four years which had passed since his last presence there, and the brazen face and fluent lips were to serve him no more. On his ar- KUdare is rival in London he was sent to the Tower, Tower. and discovered that he had overstepped his liraits at last,' He was now shrewd enough to see that, if a revolt was contemplated, no time was to be lost. He must play his last card, or his influence was gone for ever. Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, his eldest Lord Thomaa ^ , , Fitzgerald son, who In his boyhood had resided in Eng- vice-deputy. land,^ had been left as vice-deputy in his father's absence. The earl before his departure had taken precautions to place the fortresses of the pale, with the arms and ammunition belonging to the govern ment, in the hands of dependents whom he could ab- sjlutely trust. No sooner was his arrest known than, in compliance with secret instructions which had been left with them, or were sent from England, his friends determined upon rebellion,^ ' 28 Hen. VHI. cap. 1. Irish statutes. 2 Cowley to Cromwell: Siate Papers, Vol. II. p. 198. 5 Act of Attamder of the Earl of Kildare: 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 1. The 278 Desmond and the Emperor. [Ch. viu. The opportunity was well chosen. The government of Ireland was in disorder, Skeffington was designed ftir KUdare's successor, but he was not yet appointed ; nor was he to cross the Channel till he had collected a strong body of troops, which was necessarily a work of time. The conditional excommunicatlcin (rf the king was then freshly published ; and counsels, there Is rea son to think, were guiding the Irish movement, which had originated in a less distempered brain than that of an Irish chieftain. Rumours were flying in the south ern counties in the middle of June that a Spanish in- Thremperor vasIou might be Immediately looked for, and S^ntto the the emperor's chaplain was with the Earl of mond.^"'' Desmond. His mission, it was said, was to prepare the way for an imperial army ; and Desmond hiraself was fortifying Dungarvan, the port at which an invading force could raost conveniently land.^ There is, therefore, a strong probabUity that Charles V,, who had undertaken to execute the papal sentence in the act is explicit that the rebellion was in consequence of Kildare discovering that the king would not again trust him ; and that he had carefully pre pared for it before he left Ireland. 1 Cork and Waterford continued loyal. The mayor of the latter placa wrote, on the 12th of July, to Cromwell as follows : " This instant day, re port is made by the Vicar of Dungarvan, that the emperour hath sent cer tain letters unto the Earl of Desmond, by the same chaplain or ambassadoi that was sent to James the late earl. And the coraraon bruit is, that hii practice is to win the Geraltynes and the Breenes ; and that the emperoui intendeth shortly to send an army to invade the cities and towns by the sea coasts of this land. This thiug was spoken by a Spaniard moie than a month agone to one ofthe inhabitants of this city; aud because I thought it'then somewhat incredible, I forbare at that time to write unto your wis dom thereof. The chaplain arrived more than fifteen days past at the Single, in the dominion of the said Earl, which Earl hath, for the victual ling of his castle of Dungarvan, taken a ship charged with Spanish wines, that was ti>und to the town of Galway; aud albeit that his years requireth quietness and rest, yet intendeth he as much trouble as ever did any of hii nation." — William Wise, Mayor of Waterford, to Cromwell, July 12, 1634: State Papers. Vol. II. p. 198. 1534.] Corny O'Brien. 279 course of the summer, was looking for the most vulner able point at which to strike ; and, not venturing to invade England, was encouraging an Irish rebellion, with a view to foUowing up his success if the com mencement proved auspicious,' Simultaneously with the arrival of these unwelcome 1 On the 2l6t of July, O'Brien of Thomond wrote the following charac ter jtic letter to Charles : — Ormy O'Brien, Prince of Ireland, to the Emperor Charles V. "July 21, 1534. " To the most sacred and most invincible Csesar, Charles Emperor of the Romans, Most Catholic Eling of Spain, health with all submission. — Most sacred Csesar, lord most clement, we give your Majesty to know that our predecessors for a long tirae quietly and peacefully occupied Ireland, with constancy, force, and courage, and without rebellion. '1 hey possessed and governed this country in manner royal, as by our ancient chronicles doth plainly appear. Our said predecessors and ancestry did come from your Majesty's realm of Spain, where they were of the blood of a Spanish prince, and many Kings of that lineage, in long succession, governed all Ireland happily, until it was conquered by the English. The last King of this land was of my blood and name ; and ever since that time our ancestors, and we ourselves, have ceased not to oppose the English intruders; we have never been subject to English rule, or yielded up our ancient rights and liberties ; and there is at this present, and for ever will be, perpetual dis cord between us, and we will harass them with continual war. " For this cause, we, who till this piesent, have swom fealty to no man, submit ourselves, our lands, our families, our followers, to the protection and defence of your Majesty, aud of free will and deliberate purpose we promise to obey your Majesty's orders and commands in all honest be hests. We will serve your Majesty with all our force; that is to say, with 1660 hoi'se and 2440 foot, equipped and armed. Further, we will levy and direct for your Majesty's use 13,000 men, well armed with harquebuss, bows, arrows, and swords. We wiU submit to your Majesty's will and jurisdiction more than a hundred castles, and they and all else shall be at ycuT Majesty's disposition to be employed as you shall direct. " We can undertake also for the assistance and support of our good nrother the Earl of Desmond, whose cousin, the daughter of the late Earl James, your Majesty's friend, is our wife. • "Our further pleasure will be declared to you ly our servants and friends, Eobert and Dominic de Paul, to whom your Majesty vrill deign t« give credence. May your Majesty be ever prosperous. " Written at our Castle at Clare, witness, our daughter, July 21, 1534, by your humble servant aud un&iling ftiend, " CoKNY O'Brien, Prince of Irrdanil" —MS. Archives at Brussels: The Pilgrim, pp. 175, 176. 280 The Holy War of the Geraldines. [Ch. vm. news, the English government were Informed by letters Lord Thomas fro^i DubUn, that Lord Thomas Fitzgerald had ^^daim thrown off his allegiance, and had committed. ™£ed "^nd infinite murders, burnings, and robbings in the wlJlt™ *" EngUsh pale ; raaking " his avaunt and boast '*'°- that he was of the pope's sect and band, and that him he would serve, against the king and all his partakers ; that the King of England was accursed, and as many as took his part." ' The signal for the explo sion was given with a theatrical bravado suited to the novel dignity of the cause. Never before had an Irish massacre been graced by a papal sanction, and It was necessary to mark the occasion by unusual form. The young lord. Silken Thomas, as he was called, was twenty-one years old, an accomplished Irish cavalier. He was vice-deputy, or so he considered himself: and unwilling to tarnish the honour of his loyal house by any action which could be Interpreted Into treachery, he comraenced with a formal surrender of his office, June 11. ^nd a declaration of war. On the eleventh wbTthf of June the council were sitting in St, Mary's M^°s'ab-^*' abbey, when a galloping of horses was heard, ciMus foriti and Lord Thoraas, at the head of a hundred ™'" and forty of the young Geraldines, dashed up to the gate, and springing off his horse, strode into the assembly. The council rose, but he ordered them to sit still, and taking the sword, of state in his hand, he spoke in Irish to the following effect : — " However injuriously we be handled, and forced to defend ourselves in arms, when neither our service, nor our good meaning towards our prince's crown availeth, yet say not hereafter, but in this open hostility which we profess here, and proclaim, we have showed 1 Cowley to Cromwell : State Papers, Vol. II- p. 198. 1634,] General Bebellion. 281 om-selves no vUlalns nor churls, but warriors and gen tiemen. This sword of state is yours, and not mine ; I received it with an oath and have used it to your benefit. I should offend mine honour if I turned the same to your annoyance. Now I have need of raine own sword which I dare trust. As for this common sword, it flattereth me with a golden scabbard ; but It hath hi it a pestilent edge, and whetteth itself in hope of a destruction. Save yourselves from us, as from open enemies, I am none of Henry's deputy ; I am his foe ; I have more mind to conquer than to govern, to meet him in the field than to serve him in ofiice. If all the hearts of England and Ireland that have cause thereto would join in this quarrel, as I trust they wUl, then should he be a byword, as I trust he shall, for his heresy, lechery, and tyranny ; wherein the age to come may score him among the ancient princes of most abominable and hateful memory," ^ " With that," says Campion, " he rendered up his sword, add ing to his shameful oration many other slanderous and foul terms." Cromer, Lord Chancellor and Archbishop of Ar magh, a creature of Kildare, " more like his parish priest or chaplain, than king's chancellor," ^ who had been prepared beforehand, rose, and affected remon strance ; but, speaking in English, his words were not understood by the crowd, A bard in the Geraldine train cut short his speech with an Irish battle chant ; and the wild troop rushed, shouting, out of the, abbey, and galloped from the town. In these mock heroics there need not have been anything worse than folly ; but Irish heroism, like t Campion's History of Ireland, p. 175. Leland, Vol. II. p. 143. " State Papers, Vol. IL p. 168 282 Siege of Duhlin. [Ch. Vlll Irish religion, was unfortunately limited to words and Piua e and feeUngs, The generous defiance in the cause massacre. ^f ^q CatliolIc faith was followed by pil lage and raurder, the usual accompaniments of Irish insurrection, as a sort of initial holocaust to propitiate success. The open country was at the mercy of the rebels. Fitzgerald, joined by O'Connor, proceeded to The people of swear-In all such of the inhabitants of the »he rebei"™ pale as would unite against England ; prom ising protection if they would consent, but infiicting fire and sword wherever he met refusal. The unfortu nate people, warned by experience that no service was worse requited in Ireland than loyalty, had no spirit to resist. The few who were obnoxious were kiUed ; the remainder submitted ; and the growing corn was de stroyed, and the farms were bumt, up to the gates of Dublin, that when the English army arrived, tiiey ' might find neither food to maintain, nor houses to shel ter them,^ The first object of Fitzgerald, however. He summons ^^^ ^^ ^^Izc DubUu Itsclf, whorc a portiou of DubUn. .f.|-^g citizens were in his favour. In the last week in July he appeared with his foUowers under the walls ; a sraall force which had attempted to resist was defeated and driven in ; and, under a threat of burning the city, if he was refused, he demanded the surrender of town and castle. The danger was imme diate. The provident treachery of Kildare, in strip ping the castle of Its stores and cannon, had made defence all but impossible, Ormond was far off, and weeks must pass before reUef could arrive from Eng land, Sir John White, an English gentleman, with a handful of men-at-arms, had miUtary command of the city; and the Archbishop of Armagh implored him 1 Tl 101 las Finglas to Cromwell: State Papers, VoL II. p. 200, 1634.J- Siege of Buhlin. 283 to have pity on the citizens, and not to expose them to the consequences of a storm,^ White was Archbishop 11, ,. , , , 1 Cromer Im- too stout a soldier to listen to such timid pioressir , , , . . „ John White, counsels; yet his position was one of extreme the English ,.„ 1 1 , 1- ' 1 , 1 commander, difficulty; his little garrison was too weak to surrender. to defend the lines of the town, without the assistance of the citizens, and the citizens were divided and dis pirited. He resolved at length to surrender the city, and defend the castle to the last, Fitzgerald threat ened that he would hold the townsmen responsible for the submission of the troops ; but, savage as the EngUsh commander knew him to be, he calculated, with justice, that he would not ruin his popularity by cutting the throats of an unresisting crowd. Hastily gathering together sufiicient stores to enable him to hold out for a few weeks, and such ^,,yt„ g^^. arms and ammunition as could be collected c^ty^Md*" in the emergency. White withdrew into the Jn* tS'^- fortress, taking with him the Master of the "^' RoUs, tbe Chief Baron, and such other of the council as desired to be his companions. The inhabitants of Dnblin were then empowered to make terms with the rebels. The gates were opened on Fitzgerald's promise to respect life and property, the city was occupied, and sieffe was Immediatelv laid to the castle, siege of the castle This was on the 27th of July, The morning July ii. which followed was marked by one of those atrocities which have so often unfortunately distinguished IrLsh rebellions. Archbishop Allen, to whose ex- Archbishop ' ^Uenen- ertions the exposure of Kildares proceed- deavoursto 111 , • 11 1 •-If escape Into uigs had been prmcipaUy due, either tear- England. ing the possible consequences to himself if the castle was taken, as the Irish writers say,^ or more probably 1 Agard to Cromwell : StaU Papers, Vol. II. p. 245. 2 Leland, Vol. II. p. 145, 284 Murder of Archbishop Allen. [Ch. vin, to hasten in person the arrival of the deputy and his troops, instead of remaining with White, volunteered to cross to England ; and before the gates were opened, he went on board a vessel and dropped down the river. He had placed himself unknowingly in the hands of traitors, for the ship was commanded by a Geraldine,^ The ship is and In the night which foUowed was run atoiontarf. aground at Clontarf, close to the mouth of the Liffey, The country was in possession of the in surgents, the crew were accomplices, and the stranded vessel, on the retreat of the tide, was soon surrounded. The arch- The archblshop was partly persuaded, partly taken to the compelled to SO OU shorc, and was taken by village of , ^ '^ -r\ i r> tt-i i Artayne, two dependents ot the Earl ot Kildare to a farm house in the village of Artayne, Here he was permitted to retire to bed ; but if he slept, it was for an early and a cruel wakening. The news of his cap ture was carried to Fitzgerald, who was then in the city, but a few mUes distant, and the young lord, with three of his uncles, was on the spot by daybreak. They entered the house and ordered Allen to be brought before them. The archbishop was dragged from his bed ; and in his shirt as he was, bare-legged and bare-headed,-he dropt upon his knees, and begged for mercy. As well might the sheep have asked mercy Andmur- °^ ^^ famished wolf He had but time to *'''*• bequeath his soul to heaven, and his skull was cloven as he knelt ; and, to make clean work, his chap lains, his servants, all of English blood who were with him, were slaughtered over his body,^ Such was the pious offering to God and holy church on which the 1 Leland, Vol. II. p. 145. 3 Act of Attainder of the Eari of Kildare : 28 Henry VIII. cap. 1. The ftior of Kilm ainham to Henry VIII. : Slate Papers, Vol. IL p. 501. Cam pion, p. 178 1684.,] Fitzgerald writes to Ihe Pope. 285 gun looked down as It rose that fair summer's morning over Dublin Bay ; and such were the men whose cause the Mores and the Fishers, the saintly monks of the Charterhouse and the holy martyrs of the Catholic faith, believed to be the cause of the Almighty Father of the world. The morning's work was still but half completed. To massacre a heretic archbishop was a raeri- Mtzgeraid torious, or at least a venial act; but it was ^p^andth« desirable that an opinion in favour of it should annoutTce" be pronounced by authority ; or that the guilt, ^ ""p'""' if guilt there was, should be washed off without delay. The Archdeacon of Kells,^ therefore, was despatched to the pope and to the eraperor, to press the latter to send assistance on this happy success, and to bring back absolution from his Holiness,^ if the raurder required it. The next object was to prevent news from reach ing England before the castle should be taken. Blockade of The river was watched, the timely assistance i'"^'" ^*y- of an English pirate enabled Fitzgerald to blockade the bay ; and Dublin was effectively sealed. But the re port of the murder spread rapidly through Ireland, In three days it was known at Waterford ; and the Prior of Kilmainham,* who had taken refuge ,^^^ -p^^^ „f there, crossed into Wales on the instant, in- ^os'^e^S tending to ride post to London,* He was ftonTwIter- delayed at St, David's by an attack of paral- *^°"*' ysis; but he sent forward a companion who had left ' Call McGravyll, or Charles Reynolds: Act of Attainder^ 28 Henry VIII. c. 1. Camrion, p. 176. 2 Such, at least, one of Fitzgerald's attendants, who was present at the murder, understood to be one of the objects of the archdeacon's mission. (State Papers, Vol. II. p. 201, note.) The act of attainder says merely that lie was sent to beg for assistance. • Bawson, one of the Irish Council, * SiaU Papers, Vol. II. p. 201. 286 Duilin saved by the Earl of Ormond. [Ch. via Ireland with him ; and the death of the archbishop was made known to Henry in the second week i.i August. If Skeffino-ton could set out on the instant, the cas tle might be saved, and Dublin recovered. Couriers were despatched to urge hira to raake haste ; and others were sent to Ireland to communicate with Or mond, and, if possible, with the party in the castle, August. But Skeffington, who was too old for his work, Skeffington is,,,,, ? ,, ,, i wprepared. had loitercd over his preparations, and was not ready ; and the delay would have been fatal, ex cept for the Earl of Orraond, the loyalty of whose no ble house at that crisis alone saved the English author ity in Ireland, On the arrival of Henry's courier, he Ormondm- Collected his people and invaded Kildare, dare. The couutry was unenclosed — not a fence nor a hedge broke the broad surface of moor and meadow, save where at intervals a few small patches were enclosed for corn crops. Infinite herds of cattle grazed at will over the expanse of pasture, and these cattle were the chief dependence of the people, Or mond, by the suddenness of his inroad, and the absence of the owners, was enabled to sweep clear the whole tract which was occupied by the Geraldines ; and Fitz- Pitzgeraidis g^rald was forccd to retire from Dublin to tSTftom'^" defend or recover his property. He left a Dublin. detachment in the city, to prevent the troops in the castle from obtaining supplies,^ and then hurried off to revenge the foray. Entering Carlow, he took a castle on the Slaney, and murdered the garrison. Thence he turned towards Kilkenny, and was bearing He attacks down upon Orraond with a strength which it "™™*- would have been hard for the Butlers to re sist, when he learnt that the citizens of Dublin, encour- 1 Inland, Vol. IL p. 146. 1B4.] A Truce agreed to. 287 aged by the news that an English army was actually coming, had repented of their patriotism, and, ihe citizens to earn their pardon frora Henry, had closed ^ur'jTto'thd'r their gates, and had seized and imprisoned ^^"^^^ the party who were left before the castle. The prize for which he had played so deeply was slipping from his hands at the moment when it was all but won. He was forced to return In haste ; but before Htzgeraid at- he left Kilkenny, he raade an effort to induce gain ormond. Ormond to join him. He promised, that, if the earl would assist him in driving out the English, he would " take him as his father," that he would make a present to his son. Lord James, of half the inheritance of the KUdares, and that they two -should together rule Ire land,! Promises when extorted by presence of danger from a Geraldine were of Indifferent value ; but if Fitzger ald's engagements had been as sure as they were false and fleeting, they would have weighed little with this gaUant old nobleman, Ormond replied, that, ormond's if the rebels would lay down their arms and ™*'^- sue for mercy, they might perhaps find it ; but for himself, " if his country were wasted, his castles won or prostrate, and himself exiled, yet would he never shrink to persevere in his duty to the king to the death," * FaUing here, and having at the same time received a check in a skirmish, Fitzgerald next endeavoured to gain time. The Irish clans were gathering, bnt they were stiU at a distance, and his own presence iwas in- Btantly required elsewhere. He offered a truce, there fore ; and to this Ormond, being hard pressed by the 1 Instructious to Walter Cowley to be declared to the King's HighneM hbehalfof the Earl of Ossory : State Papers, VoL II. p. 250. • Ibid. Campion, pp. 177, 178. 288 Delay of the English Deputy. [Ch. vm. Earl of Desmond, was ready to consent. But it was Fitz eraid's ^^J trcachcry, Ormond broke up his camp, treachery. g^^^ }jjg people worc Scattered ; and within three days, O'Neile having joined Fitzgerald, he was taken at a disadvantage ; his son. Lord James, was severely wounded ; and a cordon of Irish being drawn round him, to prevent him from relieving Dublin, tlie Dublin is rebel army hastened back to renew the siege. ^ sSged. ' They had the cannon with thera which Kil dare had taken from the castle,^ but were happily iU- provided with ammunition, or resistance would have been desperate. The siege opened at the be ginning of September, The month passed away, and the place was stUl untaken. If the deputy sketangton would Only arrive, there was still time to save rive. it. Each hour he was looked for, yet through these priceless days he was loitering at Beaumaris. Frora the fatality which has for ever haunted the deal ings of EngUsh statesraen with Ireland, an old man past work, weak in health, and with all the moral defi ciencies of a failing constitution, had been selected to encounter a dangerous rebellion. The insurrection had broken out in June ; every moment was precious, the loss of a day might be the loss of the whole coun try ; yet it was now the fourth of October ; October 4. i i . i i i i , the ships were loaded ; the horses were on board ; they had been on board a fortnight, and were sickening frora confinement. The wind was fair, at 1 M'Monough, O'More, O'Connor, O'Brien, in September, with the greatest part of the gentlemen of the county of Kildare, were retained and sat at Carlow, Castledermot, Athye, Kilkea, and thereabout, with victualls during three weeks, to resist the Earl of Ossory from invadmg of the county of Kildare. — Slate Papers, Vol. II. p. 251. 2 The rebel chiefly trusteth in his ordnance, which he hath of the king's. — Allen to Cromwell: Ibid. p. 202. 1534.] Ormond again saves Dublin. 289 that critical season of the year a matter of incalculalile importance. Yet Skeffington was still " not Ormond ready," ^ All would have been lost but for Dublin. the Earl of Ormond, The city was at the last extrera ity, when he contrived to force his way through the Irish into KUdare ; he again laid waste the country, and destroyed the newly-gathered harvests,^ On the 14th of October Fitzgerald was forced finally siege of Dub- , . 1 1 • p 11 • 1 "^ lin raised, to raise the siege, that ms tollowers might save October u. the remnant of their property from destruction. The relief was but just in tirae, for th* resources of Dublin were exhausted. Before retreating, the rebel lord ex acted from the corporation an engageraent that at the end of six weeks they should either have procured his pardon from the king, with the deputation of Ireland for his life, or else should surrender the city. For the fulfilment of these insolent terras he took as pledges sixteen of the children of the most important families of the city, with three of the corporation themselves,^ And now, at length, on the same 14th of October, the English anchors were finaUy raised, and The English the deputy, with Sir William Brereton and last. Sir John Salisbury, several hundred Northumberland 1 Allen, Master ofthe KoUs, had gone over to quicken his sluggish move ments, and wrote from Chester to Cromwell, in despair: "Please your goodness to be advertised, that as yet the deputy is at Beaumaris, and the Northern men's horses have been on shipboard these twelve days, which is the danger of their destruction. They have lost such a wind and fair weather, as I doubt they shall not have again for this winter season. Mr, Brereton (Sir William Brereton, Skeffington's second in command) lieth here at the sea side in a readiness. If their first appointraent to Dublin had been kept, they might have been there ; but now they tsfrry to pass with the deputy. Sir, for the love of God, let some aid be sent to Dublin ; for the loss of that city and the castle were the plain subversion of the land."— Allen to Cromwell, Oct. .4; State Papers, Vol. II. p. 202. " Instructions to Walter Cowley on behalf of the Earl of Ossory: Ibid. p. 251. » Sh William Brereton to Henry VIIL : Ibid. p. 204. VOL. II. 19 290 The Deputy sails from Beaumaris. [Cn. vm horse trained in the Border wars, and a number not specified, but probably from two to three thousand archers and men-at-arms,^ were under way. Whether the blame of the delay lay with the incompetency of Skeffington, or the contempt of the English, which would not allow them to make haste into the presence! of an eneray who never dared to encounter them in the field, but carried on war hj perjury, and pillage^ and midnight raurder — whatever the cause was, they were at length on thefr way, and, through the devotion of Ormond, not too l^e to be of use. The fleet crossed the Channel in a single night, and They cross the ncxt mornlng were under Larabay Isl- night. and,^ where they had run in for shelter. Here news was brought them that Dublin Castle was Council of taken. They did not believe it ; but a coun- war at Lam- ., ., bay Island, cil of War was held, and Skeflington resolved that for himself he might not risk the atterapt to land ; Brereton and Salisbury might try it, if they could do so " without casting theraselves away " ; the deputy would go on to Waterford with the body of the army, and join Sir John St, Loo, who had crossed to that port in the week preceding, frora Bristol, Accordingly, on the raorning of the 17th of October, Sir William Sir WUUam Brereton, with five hundred Brereton ' with socmen men, sailed into the mouth of the Liffey ; and enters the , •' ' Liffey. running up the river, instead of an enemy drawn up to oppose his landing, he found the mayor and corporation waiting at the quay, with drums, and flags, and trumpets to welcorae him as a deliverer,^ 1 Two thousand five hundred was the smallest number which Lord Sur rey previously mentioned as sufficient to do good. — State Papers, VoU IL p. 73. 2 Fifteen miles north of Dublin ; imraediately off Malahide. « Sir Williara Brereton and Sir John Salisbury to Henry VIH : Slat* Papers, Vol. II. p. 203. 1584.] Mismanagement qf Skeffington. 291 Skeffington was less successful ; he remained under Lambay waiting for a wind for Waterford, and in the meantime Fitzgerald, hearing of the arrival of the fleet, was in force upon the hills overlooking the anch orage. The English commander, though An English aware that the Insurgents were in the neigh- cutoff"""* bourhood, aUowed hiraself, with extreme im- g'Sngton's prudence, to land a detachment of troops, ™prudenc«. with directions to inarch to Dublin. He hiraself went with the fleet to the Skerries,^ where he conceived, under false Information, that a party of the rebels were lying. He found nothing there but a few fishing- boats ; and while he was engaged in burning these, Fitzgerald attacked the division wnich had been sent on shore, and cut them off to a man. Nor was this the only misfortune. The pirate ships which had been watching Dublin Bay hovered round the fleet, cutting off straggling transports ; and' although one of them was chased and driven on shore, the small success poorly counterbalanced the Injury which had been inflicted,^ ^ A small harbour near Drogheda. 2 Skeffington was prudently reserved in his report of these things to Henry. He mentions having set a party on shore, but says nothing of their having been destroyed; and he could not have been ignorant of their fate, for he was writing three weeks after it, from Dublin. He was silent, too, of the injury which he had received from the pirates, though eloquent on the boats which he bumt at the Skerries. — State Papers, Vol. II, p. 205. On first reading Skeffington's despatch, I had supposed that the " brilliant victory " claimed by the Irish historians (see Leland, Vol. II. p. 148) must have been iraaginary. The Irish Statute Book, however, is too explicit to allow of such a hope. "He [Fitzgerald^' not onfy fortited and manned divers ships at sea, for keeping and letting, destroying and taking the king's deputy, array, and subjects, that they should not land within the said land ; but also at the arrival of the said array, the same Thomas, accompanied with his uncles, servants, adherents, &c., falsely.and traitorously assembled themselves together upon the sea coast, for keeping Mid resisting the king's deputy and anny ; and the sarae time they shame fully murdered divers of the said army coming to land. And Edward 292 Delay and Incapacity. [Ch. vni After a week of this trifling, Skeffington consented October 21. ^o rcslgu hls Intention of going to Waterford, Sto'™ and foUowed Brereton into Dublin, Why Dublin, jjg jjg^fj delayed a day after discovering that fhe river and the city were open to him, it is impossible to conjecture. But his presence was of little benefit, and only paralysed his abler subordinates. As soon as he had brought his army into the city, he conceived that he had done as much as the lateness of the season would allow. The November weather having set in November, wild and wct, he gave up all thought of act- the season ' ivc mcasures till the return of spring ; and do nothing, he wrote to inform the king, with much self- approbation, that he was busy writing letters to the Irish chiefs, and making arrangements for a better government ; that Lord Thomas Fitzgerald had been proclaimed traitor at the market-cross ; and that he hoped, as soon as the chancellor and the vicar-general could come to an understanding, the said traitor might be pronounced excommunicated,-' All this was very well, and we learn to our comfort that in due time the excommunication was pronounced ; but it was not putting down the rebellion — it was not the work for which he was sent to Ireland with three thousand English soldiers, Fitzgerald, as soon as the army -^as landed, retired Fitzgerald ™-^'^ the Interior ; but finding that the deputy andoiJn™ la^y idle within the walls, he recovered heart, to sbTuJiies' ^^^ *t the head of a party of light horse re- ofDubim. appeared witiiin six mUes of DubUn, Trim and Duiiboyne, two populous viUages, were sacked Rowkes, pirate at the sea, captain to the said Thomas, destroyed and took many of them." — Act of Attainder of the Eari of Kildare ; 28 Hen VIII cap. 1. 1 Skeffington to Henrj' VIII. : State Papers, Vol. II. pp. 206, 207. B34.] Burning of Trim and Dunboyne. 293 and burnt, and the blazing ruins must have been seen from the battiements of the Castie, Yet neither the insults of the rebels nor the entreaty of the inhab itants could move the imperturbable Skeffington. He lay stUl within the city walls ; i and Fitzgerald, stiU farther encouraged, despatclied a fresh party iieagain of ecclesiastics to the pope and the emperor, emperor. with offers of allegiance and promises of tribute,^ giving out meanwhUe in Ireland that he would be sup-* ported in the spring or summer by the long talked-of Spanish array. Promises costing Charles V, nothing, he was probably liberal of them, and waited for the issue to decide how far they should be observed. If this was so, the English deputy seemed to be de termined to give the rebellion every chance of issuing as the emperor desired. The soldiers were eager for employment, but Skeffington refused to give his officers an opportunity for distinction in which he did not share,^ and a few Ineffectual skirmishes in the neigh bourhood were the sole exploits which for five months they were aUowed to achieve. One expedition, as far 1 Accompanied with the number of sixty or eighty horsemen, and about three hundred kerne and gallowglass, the traitor caipe to the town of Trim, and there uot only robbed the same, but also burnt a great part thereof, and took all the cattle of the country thereabouts ; and after that assaulted Dunboyne, within six miles to Dulilin ; and the inhabitants of the town defending themselves by the space of two days, and sending for succour to Dublin .... in default of relief, he utterly destroyed and burnt the whole town. — Allen to Cromwell: State Papers, Vol. II. p. 220. 2 He hath sent divers muniments and precedents which should prove that the king held this land of the See of Eome ; alledging the king and his realm to be heretics digressed from the obedience of the same, and of the faith Catholic. Wherefore his desire is to the emperour and the Bishop of Rome, that they will aid him in defence of the faith Catholic aganst the king, promising that he will hold the said land of them, a.i4 p.") trib ute for the same yearly. — Ibid. p. 222. ' My lord deputy desireth so much his own glory, that he woult. ni» nan liiould make an enterprise except he were at it. — Ibid. p. 227. 294 Skeffington will not move. [Ch. vm, as Drogheda, the deputy indeed ventured, towards the Skeffington ^'^'^ ^^ November ; and in the account of it Ixp^mouto which he sent to England, he wrote as If it •nd^briDgs were matter of congratulation that he had amy^n" brought hls army back in safety. Nor were safety. jjjg congratulations, at least to himself, with out reason, for he owed that safety to God and to for tune. He had allowed the archers to neglect the cld precaution of taking cases for their bows. They were overtaken by a storm, which wetted the strings and loosened the feathers of the arrows ; and thus, at disad vantage, they were intercepted in a narrow defile,^ and escaped only because the Irish were weak In numbers. He excused himself for his shortcomings on the plea He excuses that he was in bad health — an adequate apol- hhnselfon r- i • • • i i» i • theground ogy lor his OWU mactiou, but none lor his ofbad °'' . , ' , .,,. health. appointment on a service so dangerous, let perhaps his failure is explained by the scene of It. Elsewhere, Sir WUUam Skeffington may have been a gallant soldier and a reasonable raan ; but the fatal atmosphere of Ireland seems at all times to have had a power of prostrating English inteUect, The Protector Cromwell alone was cased in armour which could defy its enchantments. An active officer might have kept the field without difficulty. The Master of the Rolls, to prove that the country, even in mid-winter, wa.'* practicable without danger, rode to Waterford in No vember with only three hundred horse, through tho heart of the disturbed districts, and returned unmo- lested,^ The Earl of Ossory, with Sfr John St, Loo, made an appointment tp meet Skeffington at Kilcaa,* 1 Skeffington to Sir Edmund Walsingham: State Papers, Vol, II. p. 234 » Allen to Cromwell.; Ibid. p. 220. • In Kildare county, on the frontiers of the pale. 1634-35.] General Despondency. 29,5 where, if he brought cannon, they might recover the castles of the government which were held by the Geraldines. He promised to go, and he might have done so without danger or difficulty ; but he neither went nor sent ; only a rumour came that the deputy was Ul ; 1 and in these delays and with this ostentation of imbecility, the winter passed away, as if to convince every wavering Irishman that, strong as the English might be in their own land, the sword dropped from their nerveless hands when their feet were on Irish soU, Nor was this the only or the worst consequence. The army, lying idle in Dublin, grew dis- consequenoo organized; many of the soldiers deserted ; and ty's inaction. an impression spiread abroad that Henry, after all, in tended to return to the old policy, to pardon Fitzgerald, and to restore him to power,^ The clear pen of the indefatigable Allen lays the state of affairs before us with the raost painful distinctness, " My lord deputy," he wrote to 1 The captains and I, the Earl (of Ossory) directed letters to the deputy to meet us in the county of Kildare, at Kilcaa, bringing with him ordnance accordingly, when the deputy appointed without fail to meet. At which day and place the said Earl, with the army (of) Waterford failed not to be, and there did abide three days continually for the deputy ; where he, nei ther any of the array, came not, ne any letter or word was had from himj but only that Sir James Fitzgerald told that he heard say he was sick. — Ossory to W. Cowley : State Papirs, Vol. II. p. 251. 2 Allen certainly thought so, or at least was unable to assure himself that it was not so. " My simple advice shall be," he wrote, " that if ever the king intend to show him grace (which himself demandeth not in due manner) and to pardon him, to withdraw his charges and to pardon him out of hand; or else to send hither a proclamation under the Great Seal of England, that theking never intends to pardon him ne any that shall take part with him, but utterly to prosecute both him and them to their utter confusion. For the gentlemen of the country hath said plainly to divers of the council, that until this be done, they dare not be earnest in resisting him, in doubt he should have his pardon hereafter, as his grandfarther, Iiis ^ther, and divers his ancestors have had ; and then would prosecute them "or the same." — State Papers, Vol. II. p 222. 296 Disorganization of the English Army. [Ch. via Crorawell on the 16th of February, " now by the space of twelve or thirteen weeks hath continued in sickness, never once going out of his house ; he as yet is not re covered. In the meantime the rebel hath burnt much of the country, trusting, if he raay be suffered, to waste ani desolate the Inglishry, [and thus] to enforce this iirmy to depart. Sirs, as I heretofore advertised you, this rebel had been banished out of all these parts or now, if all men had done their duties. But, to be plain with you, except there be a raarshal appointed, which raust do strait correction, and the army prohib ited from resorting to Dublin (hnt ordered to keep the field), the king shall never be well served, but his pur pose shall long be delayed." ^ The wages, also, were ill-paid, though money in The wages abundance had been provided. The men Tha'army^is Were mutluous, and indemnified themselves mutinous. ^^ ^j^g cxpeuse of the wretched citizens, whose houses they pillaged at will under pretence that the owners were in league with the rebels,^ The arms. The military also, whlch had been supplied to the troops, less. were of the worst kind : they had been fur nished out of ordnance which had been long~on hand, and were worthless.* The conduct of the king, when the representations of Allen were laid before him, was very unlike what the 1 Allen to Croniwell: State Papers, Vol. II. p. 226. 2 " Restraint must be had that this array shall not spoil ne rob any per son, but as the deputy and council shall appoint; and that the captains be obedient to their orders, or it shall not be well. Ne it is not meet that every soldier shall make a raan a traitor for to have his goods. Tbey be Bo nusselled in this robbery, that now they almost will not go forth to defend the country, except they may have gain." — Allen to Cromwell, Feb. 16. ' " The bows which came out of the stores at Ludlow Castle were naught; many of them would not hold the bending." — State Papers, Vol, II. p. 228. 1535.] The Campaign opens. 29^ popular conception of his character would have led us to expect. We imagine hira impatient and irritable ; and supposing him .to have been (as he certainly was) most anxious to see the rebellion crushed, we should have looked for some explosion of temper ; or, at least, for some imperious or arbitrary message to the unfor tunate deputy. He contented hiraself, however, with calmly sending some one whora he could trust to make inquiries ; and even when the result confirmed the language of the Master of the Rolls, and Theirish ,-,,,. 1 council de- the deputv s recal was in consequence urged sire the recai ,. •^, .„ „ , „° ofSkefflng- upon him, he still refiised to pass an affront ton. , The king upon an old servant. He appointed Lord refuses. Leonard Grey, brother-in-law of the Countess of Kil dare, chief marshal of the army ; but he would not even send Grey over till the summer, and he left Skeffington an opportunity of recovering his reputation in the carapaign which was to open with the spring.-* Tbe army, however, was ordered to leave Ti^earmy Dublin without delay; and the first move, inT^m^""' which was made early in February, was fol- ™«°™"ork. lowed by Immediate fruits. Two of the pirates who had been acting with Fitzgerald were taken, and hanged,^ Several other offenders of note were also caught and thrown into prison ; and In two instances, as if the human ministers qf justice had not been suffi ciently prompt, the higher powers thought fit to infiict the necessary punishment, John TeUng, one of the archbishop's murderers, died of a foul disorder ait May nooth ; * and the Earl of Kildare, the contriver of the 1 The king, a few months later, wrote to him a letter of warm thanks fct his services, and admitted his plea of ill-health with peculiar kindness. —Henry VIII. to Skeffington : Slate Papers, Vol. II. p. 280. ' Brabazon to Cromwell : Ibid. p. 224. • Allen to Cromwell: Ibid. p. 230. 298 Siege of Maynooth. tCn. vm, whole mischief, closed his evil career in the Tower of London " for thought and pain," ^ He was attainted by the parliament which sat in. the autumn, and lay under sentence of death when death came unbidden to spare the executioner his labour. Meantime, the spring opened at last, and affairs fur- Death of the ther improved, Skeffington's health con- BailofKU- . 1 , , . 1 1 1 PI dare. tiuued wcak ; but with the advance ot the seas m he was able to take the field ; and on the 14th MarehU. of March he appeared under the walls of S'tto" Maynooth, This castle was the strongest in sfe'^eofMay- the posscssIon of the Gcraldiues, Vast labour nooth Castle, -j^^^ been recently expended on its fortifica tions, for which the king's subjects had been forced to pay. It was defended by the ordnance from DubUn, and held by a smaU but adequate garrison. It was thought to be Impregnable, and in the earlier stages of the science of gunnery it raight possibly have defied the ordinary raethods of attack. Nay, with a retro spective confidence in the strength of its defences, the Irish historians have been unable to believe that it could have been fairly taken ; they Insist that it resisted the efforts of the besiegers, and was on the point of being saved by Fitzgerald,^ when It was delivered to the English commander by treachery, A despatch to the king, which was written from the spot, and signed by the deputy and all the members of the Irish council, leaves but little reraaining of this romance. An authentic account of .an attack by cannon on a The wails are fortified placc at that era, will scarcely fail to bombarded. |jg interesting. The castie, says this docu ment, was so strongly defended both with men and ordnance, " as the like had not been seen in Ireland I Campion, p. 179. 2 Leland, Ooxe, Ware. 1535.] Storming of the Castle. 299 since the Conquest," The garrison consisted of a hundred men, of which sixty were gunners. On the third day of the siege the EngUsh batteries opened on the north-west side of the donjon, and destroying the battiements, burled the cannon on that part of the wall under the ruins. The siege lines were then moTed " to the north side of the base court of the castle, at the north-east end whereof there was a new-made, very strong, and fast brdwark, well garrisoned with men and ordnance," Here a continual fire was sus tained for five days, " on that wise that a breach and "entry was made there," Whereupon, con- March 23. .finues the despatch, " The twenty-third day, stormed. being Tuesday next before Easter day, there was a galiard assault given before five o'clock In the morning, and the base court entered ; at which entry there were slain of the ward of the castle about sixty, and of your Grace's army no more but John Griffin, yeoman of your most honourable guard, and six others which were killed with ordnance of the castle at the entry, IJowbeit, if It had not pleased God to preserve us, it were to be marveUed that we had no raore slain, Aiter the base court was thus won, we assaulted the great castle, which within a while yielded," Thirty- seven of the remaining garrison were taken Thirty-seven , , »'•• 1 State Papers, Vol. I. p. 446. " Ibid Vol. II. p. 253. 302 Lord Leonard Grey. [Ch. via ever treacherous they were to their enemies, however mconstant in their engagements, uncertain, untrue in ordinary obligations, they were without rivals in the world in thefr passionate attachments among them selves ; and of all the chiefs who fell from Fitzgerald's banner, and hastened with submission to the English deputy, there was perhaps not one who, though steeped in the blood of a hundred raurders, would not have been torn lirab from' limb rather than have listened to a temptation i^ betray him. At- length, after a narrow escape from a surprise, frcwn which he rescued himself only by the connivance of the Irish kerne who were with the party sent to take him, the young earl, as he now called himself, weary of his wandering life, and when no Spaniards came, seeing that his cause was for the present hope- Arrivaiof ^^^s, offered to surrender. It was by this ardGre™' t'l"^ August, and Lord Leonard Grey, his ^irJo'* father's brother-in-law, was present with the offerofs'^ur ^rmy. To him he wrote from O'Connor's render. Castlc, lu King's County, apologizing for what he had done, desiring pardon "for his life and lands," and begging his kinsman to interest himself in his behalf If he could obtain his forgiveness, he promised to deserve it. If It was refused, he said that he " must shift for himself the best that he could," ^ In' reply to this overture. Grey suggested an inter- Grey sug- view. The appointment of so near a relative terview. of the KUdarc's to high office'in Ireland had been determined, we may be sure, by the Geraldine influence in the English council. The marshal was personally acquainted with Fitzgerald, and it is to be 1 Lord Thomas Fitzgerald to Lord Leonard Grey: State Papers, Vol IL p. 273. 1836.] Fitzgerald surrenders. 303 observed that the latter in writing to him signed him self his " loving friend," That Lord Leonard was anxious to save hira does not admit of a doubt ; he had been his father's chief advocate with the king, and his natural syrapathy with the representative of an ancient and noble house was strengthened by family connexion. He is not to be suspected, therefore, of treachery, at least towards his kinsman. The interview was agreed upon, and on the eighteenth of August, Grey, with Sir Rice Mansell, Chief Justice Aylmer, Lord James Butler, and Sfr William St, Loo, rode from Maynooth into King's County, where, on the borders of the Bog of Allen, Fitzgerald raet htzgeraid them. Here he repeated the conditions upon ""^'° *""'' which he was ready to surrender. Lord Grey said that he had no authority to entertain such conditions ; but he encouraged the hope that an unconditional sur render would teU in his favour, and he promised him self to accompany his prisoner to the king's presence. Fitzgerald interpreting expressions confess- Andsurreu- ders on a edly intended " to allure him to yield," ^ in dubious the manner most favourable to himself, placed pardon. himself in the hands of the marshal, and rode back with him to the camp. The deputy wrote immediately to announce the cap ture. Either the terms on which It had been effected had not been communicated to him, or he thought it prudent to conceal them, for he informed Henry that the traitor had yielded without conditions, either of 1 The Lord Leonard repayreth at this season to your Majesty, bringing vrith him the said Thoraas, beseeching your Highness most humbly, that according to the lomfort of our words spoken to the same Thoraas to allure liiia to yield him, ye would be meroifiil to the said Thomas, especially con cemmg his life.— The Council of Ireland to Henry VIIL: State Papers, Vol. II. p. 275. 804 Dilemma of the Government. [Ch. vhl pardon, life, lands, or goods, "but only submitting to his Grace's mercy," ^ The truth, however, was soon Embarrass- kiiown ; aud It occasIoncd the gravest em inent of the , __ p "11 government, barrassmcut. How tar a government is bound at any time to respect the unauthorized engagements of its subordinates, is one of those Intricate questions which cannot be absolutely answered ; ^ and it was still less easy to decide, where the object of such engage- cfiitigeraid ments had run a career so infaraous as Lord telovem-' Thomas Fitzgerald, No pirate who ever Snd'w"im- swung OU a well-earned gallows had com- possibie. mitted darker crimes, and the king was called upon to grant a pardon in virtue of certain unpermitted hopes which had been held out in his name. He had resolved to forgive no more noble traitors In Ireland, and if the archbishop's raurder was passed over, he had no right to affect authority In a country where he was so unable to exert it. On the other hand, the capture Yet, were of SO Considerable a person was of great im- entiued'to'^ portauce ; his escape abroad, if he had de- Sfi^ofhis sired to leave the country, could not have capture? been prevented ; and while the governinent retained the benefit which they derived from his sur render, their honour seemed to be involved in observ ing the conditions, however made, by which It had been secured. It Is likely, though it is not certain, that Lord Leon ard foresaw the dilemraa in which Henry would be plaL;ed, and hoped by raeans of it to secure the escape 1 State Papers, Vol. II. p. 274. 2 The conditions proraised to Napoleon by the captain of the BeUero phon created a similar difficulty. If Nana Sahib had by any chance been connected by marriage with au English officer, and had that officer induced him to surrender by a promise of pardon, would the English Grovemment have i-espected that promise ? 1536.] Execution of Fitzgerald. 805 of his kinsman. His own ultimate treason throws a shadow on his earlier loyalty ; and his talent was fully equal to so ingenious a fraud. He had placed the king in a position from which no escape was possible that was not open to grave objection. To pardon so heavy an offender was to violate the first duty of governraent, and to grant a general Ucence to Irish criminality ; to execute him was to throw a shadow indirectly on the king's good faith, and lay his generals open to a charge of treachery, Henry resolved to err on the side on which error was least injurious. The difficulty was submitted to the Duke of Norfolk, as of most experi ence in Irish matters. The duke advised that The Duke of execution should be delayed ; but added sig- vises delay IIP I. ,! ofpunlsh- mficantly, " quod detertur uon aufertur, — ment. ¦Pardon was not to be thought of; the example would be fatal.i Immediate punishment would injure the credit of Lord Grey, and would give occasion for slan der against the council,^ The best course would be to keep " the traitor " in safe prison, and execute hira, should it seem good, at a future time,' This advice was foUowed, Fitzgerald, with his uncles, ritzgeraidis who had all been implicated in the insurrec- following tion, was committed to the Tower ; and in bum. the year following they were hanged at Tyburn, So ended the rebellion in Ireland ; significant chiefly because it was the first in which an outbreak against England assumed the features of a war of religion, the 1 It were the worst example that ever was ; and especially for ^ese un gracious people of Ireland. — Norfolk to Cromwell: State Papers, Vol. II, p. 276. 2 Ibid. ' Ibid. The duke, throughout his letter, takes a reraarkably business like view of the situation. He does not allow the question of " right " to be raised, or suppose at all that the government could lie under any kind of obligation to a person in the position of Fitzgerald. VOL. n. 20 306 End of the Bebellion. [Ch. vm first which the pope was especially invited to bless, and the Catholic powers, as such, to assist. The features pf it, on a narrow scale, were identical with those of the later risings. Fostered by the hesitation of the home authorities, it commenced in bravado and mur der ; It vanished before the first blows of substantial resistance. Yet the suppression of the insurrection was attended by the usual Irish fatality : mistake and in completeness followed the proceedings from the begin ning to the end ; and the consciousness remained that a wound so closed would not heal, that the moral tem per of the country remained unaffected, and that the e^me evils would again germinate. 1134] State of England in 1534. 307 CHAPTER IX. THE CATHOLIC MABTTBS. While the disturbance in Ireland was at its height, affafrs in England had been scarcely less criti- state of Eng eai. The surface indeed remained unbroken, |^^,i^'o? The summer of 1534 passed away, and the ¦****• threatened invasion had not taken place. The disaffec tion which had appeared in the preceding year had been smothered for a time ; Francis I, held the emperor m check by menacing Flanders, and through French mfluence the rupture with Scotland had been seeming ly healed. In appearance the excommunication had passed off as a brutum fulmen, a flash of harmless sheet lightning, serving only to dazzle feeble eyes. The oath of succession, too, had been taken generally through the country ; Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher having alone ventured to refuse. The pope had been abjured by the universities and by the con vocation in both the provinces, and to these collective acts the bishops and the higher clergy had added each their separate consent, ^ But the government knew too well the temper of the clergy to trust to outward compliance, or to feel assured that they acquiesced at heart either in the sept aration from Rome, or In the loss of thefr treasured pnvileges. The theory of an Anglican Erastlanism 808 Temper of the Clergy. [Ce. rs found favour with some of the higher church dignita- The clergy ries, and with a section perhaps of the secular comply with . , , p i f ^ the revoiu- priests ; but the transfer to the crown ot the tion, but in- ^ „ . , . , , , , ... , „ wardly have first-truits, whicli in their original zeal tor a for it. free Church of England the ecclesiastics had hoped to preserve for theraselves, the abrupt limitation of the powers of convocation, and the terraination of so many time-honoured and lucrative abuses, hadTinter- fered with the popularity of a view which might have been otherwise broadly welcomed ; and while growing vigorously among the country gentlemen and the mid dle classes in the towns, among the clergy it throve only within the sunshine of the court. The rest were overawed for the moment, and stunned by the sudden ness of the blows which had fallen upon them. As far as they thought at all, they believed that the storm would be but of brief duration, that it would pass away as it had risen, and that for the raoment they had only to bend. The modern Englishman looks back upon the time with the light of after history. He has been inured by three centuries of division to the spectacle of a divided church, and sees nothing in it either em barrassing or fearful. The mmisters of a faith which had been for fifteen centuries as the seamless vesture of Christ, the priests of a church supposed to b» founded on the everlasting rock against which no power could prevail, were in a very different position, Thev obeyed for the time the strong hand which was upon them, trusting to the interference of accident or provi dence. They comforted theraselves with the hope that the world would speedily fall back Into its old ways, They bend that Chrlst and the saints would defend the before the , , , ,, i i , i storm, church against sacrilege, and that m the mean- trnstlngto , , *' • o -, i .. time time there was no occasion for them to thrust 1634.1 Temper of the Clergy. 309 themselves upon voluntary martyrdom,^ But this po sition, natural as it was, becarae difficult to maintain when they were called upon not only themselves to con sent to the changes, but to justify thefr consent to their congregations, and to explain to the people the grounds on which the government had acted. The kingdom was by implication under an interdict,^ yet the services went on as usual ; the king was excommunicated ; doubt hung over the succession ; the facts were im perfectly known ; and the never-resting friars raendi- cant were busy scattering falsehood and misrepresenta tion. It was of the highest moment that on all these important matters the mind of the nation should if pos sible be set at rest ; and the clergy, whose loyalty was presuraed rather than trusted, furnished the only raeans by which the government could generally and siraulta- neously reach the people. The clergv there- the clergy ri 11 ir arecalledJip tore, as we have seen, were called upon for on to expiam , . , '¦ to the people therr services ; the pope s name was erased the changes ft -I 111 {. 1 which have from the mass books ; the statute ot appeals taken place. and the statute of succession were fixed against the doors of every parish church in England, and the rec tors and curates were dfrected every week in their sermons to explain the meaning of these acts. The bishops were held responsible for the obedience of the 1 "These be no causes to die for," was the favourite phrase of the time. It was the expression which the Bishop of London used to the Carthusian monks (Histoi-ia Mnrlyrum Anglorum), and the Archbishop of York in his diocese-generally. — Ellis, third series, Vol. It. p. 375. 2 Si Rex Prsefatus, vel alii, inhibitioni ac prohibitioni et interdfcto hu jusmodi contravenerint, Regem ipsum ac alios omnes supradictos, senten- tiaa censuras et poenas praedictas ex nunc prout ex tunc incurrisse declara- mus, et ut tales publicari ac publice nunciari et evitari — ac interdictum per totum regnum Anglise sub dictis pcenis observari debere, volumus at que mandamus. — First Brief of Clement : Legrand, Vol. III. pp. 451, 452. The Church of Rome, however, draws a distinction between a sentenc* implied aad a sentence di:ectly pronounced. 310 Ord^- for Preaching^ [Ch, h, clergy ; the sheriffs and the magistrates had been di rected to keep an eye upon the bishops ; and all the machinery of centralization was put in force to compel the fulfilment of a duty which was well known to be unwelcome. That as little latitude as possible raight be left for resistance or evasion, books were printed by order of council, and distributed through the hands of the bishops, containing a minute account of the whole proceedings on the divorce, the promises and falsehoods of .the pope, the opinions of the European universities, and a general epitome of the course which had been pursued,^ These were to be read aloud to the congregation^ ; and an The order order for preaching was at the same time forprea«h- . \ i • i i • f i v ing. Every Circulated, in which the minuteness of the di- deiivercne rectlous Is as remarkable as the prudence of sermon against the them. Every preacher was to deliver one papal usur- i ^ i /, i , i.i ,,^ i»tion. serraon at least (" and after at his hberty ) on the encroachments and usurpations of the papal power. He was to preach against it, to expose and refute it to the best of his abiUty, and to declare that It was done away, and might neither be obeyed nor de* fended further. Again in all places " where the king's The arch- I'ust causc In hls matter of matriraonv had been bishop's " ¦ 11, , r sentence to detracted, and the incestuous and unjust [mat- thing of rimony] had been set forth fand extolled]," mere Tenty, i i i not to be the clergy were generallv directed " to open again called i i i i . , in question, and declare the mere verity and justice" of the matter, declaring it " neither doubtful nor disputa ble, but to be a thing of raere verity, and so to be al lowed of all men's opinions. They were to relate in detaU the pope's conduct, his many declarations in the king's favour ; the first decretal, which was withheld » Sttype's Memorials, Vol. I. p. 292. Ellis, thu-d series. Vol. II. p. 336. 1634.] Order for Preaching. 311 by Campeggio, in which he had pronounced the mar riage with Catherine invaUd ; his unjust avocation of the cause to Rome ; his promises to the King of France ; and finally, his engageraent at Marseilles to pronounce in the King of England's favour, If only he would ac knowledge the papal jurisdiction,^ They were there fore to represent the king's conduct as the just and Iiecessary result of the pope's duplicity. These things the clergy were required to teach, not as matters of doubt and question, but as vital certainties on which no difference of opinion coidd be tolerated. Finally, there were added a few wholesorae admoni- ^he clergy tions on other subjects, which raark the turn- ?rp^°^h*™ ing of the tide from Catholic orthodoxy, pStea'^oints The clergy were Interdicted from indulging °^^°'^^'^' any longer in the polemics of theology, " To keep unity and quietness in the realm it " was " ordained that no preachers " should " contend openly in the pul pit one against another, nor uncharitably deprave one another in open audience. If any of thera " were "grieved one with another," they were to " complain to the King's Highness or the archbishop or bishop of the diocese," They were " purely, sincerely, and justly " to " preach the scripture and words of Christ, and not mix them with men's institutions, or make men believe that the force of God's law and raan's law was the like," On subjects such as purgatory, wor- ' It is remarkable that in this paper it seems to be assumed, that the pope would have fulfllled this engagement if Henry had fully submitted. He openly confessed," it says, " that our master had the right ; but because onr priiite aud master would not prejudicate for his jurisdictions, and up- Md his usurped power by sending a proctor, ye may evidently here see that this was only the cause why the judgment of the Bishop of Rome was not given in his favour; whereby it may appear that there lacked not any JiMtice iu our prince's cause, but that ambition, vain glory, and too much Bnndaiiity were the lets tiereof." 312 Secret Disaffection among the Clergy. [Ch. ix ship of saints and relics, marriage of the clergy, justifi cation by faith, pilgrimages and miracles, they were to keep silence for one whole year, and not to preach at aU.i These instructions express distinctly the convictions of the governraent. It would have been well if the clergy could have accepted thera as they were given, and submitted their understandings once for all to states men who were wiser than themselves. The majority (of the parish clergy at least) were perhaps outwardly obedient ; but the surveillance which the magistrates were directed to exercise proves that the exceptions were expected to 'be extensive ; and in many quarters Difliculty of these precautions themselves were rapidly obedience to dlscovcred to bc uiadequatc. Several even of Obstructive- the most trusted among the bishops attempted bishops, an obstructive resistance. The clergy of the north were notoriously disobedient. The Archbishop of York was reported to have talked loosely of " stand ing against " the king " unto death," ^ The Bishop of Durham fell under suspicion, and was sumraoned to London, His palace was searched and his papers ex amined in his absence ; and the result, though incon clusive, was unsatisfactory,^ The religious orders again (especiaUy the monks of such houses as had been implicated with the Nun of Kent) were openly recu- And ofthe sant. At the convent at Sion, near Richmond, clergy. a Certain Father Ricot preached as he wfts commandeil, " but he made this addition, that he which commanded him to preach should discharge his con science : and as soon," it was said, "as the said Ricot 1 An Order for Preaching : printed in Burnet's Collectanea, p. 447, 2 Ellis, third series. Vol. II. p. 373. 8 John ap Rice to Secretary Cromwell, with an account of the seardl of the Bishop of Durham's chamber: Bolls House MS. 1834.] The Confessional. 313 began to declare the king's title," " nine of the brethren departed from the sermon, contrary to the rule of their religion, to the great slander of the audience," ^ Indeed it soon became evident that among the regular clergy no corapliance whatever was to be looked for ; and the agents of the government began to conteraplate the possible consequences, with a tenderness not indeed for the prospective sufferers, but for the authorities whom they would so cruelly corapel to punish them. " I am right sorry," wrote Cromwell's secretary to him, " to see the foolishness and obstinacy of divers religious men, so addict to the Bishop of Rome and his usurped power, that they contemn counsel as careless men and willing to die. If it were not for the opinion which men had, and some yet have, in their apparent holiness, it made no great matter what became of them, so their souls were saved. And for ray part, I would that all such obstinate persons of them as be ready to die for the advancement of the Bishop of Rome's authority were dead indeed by God's hand, that no man should run wrongfully into obloquy for their just punishment," ^ But the open resistance of mistaken honesty was not the danger which the government most feared. Powers or Another peril threatened their authority, sionai. deeper and more alarming by far. The clergy pos sessed in the confessional a. power of secret influence over the masses of the people, by which they were able at once (if they so pleased) to grant their penitonts licences for insincerity,' to permit them to jerjure 1 Bedyll to Crorawell : Slate Papers, Vol. L p. 422. Bedyll had been di rected by Cromwell to observe how the injunctions were obeyad. He said that he was " in much despair of the reformation of the friars by any gen tle or favourable means;" and advised, " that fellows who leave sermona ihould be put in prison, and made a terrible example of." ' State Papers, Vol. L p. 422, et seq. 314 The Confessional. [Ch.ix. themselves under niental reservations, and to encourage The clergy them to expIatc a venial falsehood by con- l^vtaTtMr^ cealed disaffection. The secrets of confession K'th? '° were inviolable, Anatheraas the raost fearful mmtaueser- forbade their disclosure ; and, secured behind tation ^]jjg impenetrable shield, the church might defy the most stringent provisions, and baffle every precaution. From the nature of the case but little could trans pire of the use or the abuse which was made at such a tirae of so vast a power ; but Cromwell, whose especial gift it was to wind himself into the secrets of the clergy, had his sleuth-hounds abroad, whose scent was not easily bafiled. The long tyranny of the priesthood produced also its natural retribution in the informations which were too gladly volunteered in the hour of re venge ; and raore than one singular disclosure remains among the State Papers, of language used in this mysterious intercourse. Every man who doubted whether he might lawfully abjure the pope, consulted his priest, Haughton, the Prior of Charterhouse, in all such cases, declared absolutely that the abjuration might not be made,i He hiraself refused openly ; and it Is likely that he directed others to be as open as himself But Haughton's advice was as exceptional as his conduct. Father Forest, of Greenwich, who was a brave man, and afterwards met nobly a cruel death, took the oath to the king as he was requfred ; while he -told a penitent that he had abjured the pope in the outward, but not in the inward raan, that he " owed an obedience to the pope which he could not shake off,'" and that It was " his use and practice in confes- 1 Strype's Memorials, Vol. I. p. 305. 1634.] The Confessional. 815 sion, to induce men to hold and stick to the old fashion of belief" i Here, again, is a conversation which a treacherous penitent revealed to Cromwell ; the persons confession in the dialogue being the informer, John Staunton. Staunton, and the confessor of Sion Monastery, who had professed the most excessive loyalty to the crown,'' The informer, it raust be allowed, was a good-for- nothing person. He had gone to the confessor, he said, to be shriven, and had comraenced his confession with acknowledging " the seven deadly sins particu larly," "and next the raisspending of his five wits," As an instance of the latter, he then in detail had con fessed to heresy ; he could not persuade himself that the priest had power to forgive him, " Sir," he pro fessed to have said to the confessor, " there is one thing in my stomach which grieveth my cbnscienoo very sore ; and that is by reason of a sermon I heard yesterday of Master Latimer, saying that no man of liimself had authority to forgive sins, and that the pope had no more authority than another bishop ; and therefore I am in doubt whether I shall have remission of my sins of you or not, and that the pardon is of no effect," The priest answered, " That Latimer is a false knave ; " and seven or eight times he called him false knave, and said he was an eretycke, " Marry, this I heard Latimer say," the confessor continued, " that ' Confessions of Father Forest: RoUs House MS. This seems, to have been generally known at the time. Latimer alludes to it in one of his " " The confessor can do no good with them (the monks), and the obsti nate persons be not in fear of him ; but he in great fear and danger of his life, by reason of their malice, for that he hath consented to the king's title, •nd hath preached the same." — Bedyll to Cromwell: SiaU Papers, Vol. t. p. 424. 316 The Confessional [Ch. ix if a man come to confession, and be not sorry for his sins, the priest hath no power to forgive hira, I say tbe pope's pardon is as good as ever it was ; and he is the Head of the Universal Church, and so I will take him. Here in England the king and his parliament hath put him out ; but be of good corafort, and stead fast in your faith ; this thing will not last long, I war rant you. You shall see the world change shortly," To this the informer said that he had replied, " You know how that we be sworn unto the King's Grace, and he hath already abjured the pope," " As for that," said the priest, " an oath loosely The con- made raay be loosely broken ; and by this JhaTanoafh example be ye in ease, I had an enemy !S^yte"ose°- corae unto this church, and one of his friends ly broken. ^^^ raluc Came unto rae and said, ' Sir, I pray you let us go drink with yonder man,' And the said friend maketh such Importunate suit unto me to drink with my enemy, that I promise him by my faith that I will go and drink with him ; and so indeed doth drink with him. But what then," said the priest; " though I go and drink with him upon this promise, trow you that I will forgive hira with ray heart. Nay, nay, I warrant you. And so in like wise in this oath concerning the abjuration of the pope. I wiU not abjure him in ray heart," said the priest, " for these words were not spoken unto Peter for nought — 'I wUl give thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven' — Reported ad. and the pcTpc Is Peter's successor. Of this vice of Cran- 5, > i i mer to the matter, said the priest, " I corarauned once confessor of , , , .^ . , ^ Bion. with the Bishop of Canterbury,^ and I told 1 Cranmer: but we will hope the stoiy is coloured. It is characteristic, however, of the mild, tender-hearted man who desired to glide round dif flcnlties rather than scale and conquer them. 1634,] Treasonable Intrigues. 317 the bishop I would pray for the pope as the chief and papal head of Christ's church. And the bishop told me it was the king's pleasure that I should not, I said unto him I would do It ; and though I did it not openly, yet would I do it secretly. And he said I might pray for hira secretly, but in any wise do it not openly," ^ Trifles of this kind raay seem unimportant ; but at tiie time they were of moment, for their weight was cumulative ; and we can only now recover but a few out of many. Such as they are, however, they show the spfrit in which the injunctions were received by a section at least of the English clergy. Nor was this the worst. We find language reported, which shows that many among the monks were watching for syrap toms of the proraised imperial invasion, and the prog ress of the Irish insurgents, A Doctor Maitland Maitiand, of the order of Black Friars in f^^]^f^ London, had been "heard divers tiraes to !,f™^°' say, he trusted to see every man's head that counter* was of the new learning, and the maintainers r^™'"^"™- of them, to stand upon a stake, and Cranraer's to be one of them. The king," he hoped, might suffer " a violent and shameful death ; " and " the queen, that mischievous whore, might be brent," " He said fur ther, that he knew by his science, which was nigro- mancy, that all men of the new learning should be suppressed and suffer death, and the people of the old learning should be set up again by- the power of the king's enemies from thepaits beyond the sea." ^ In the May weather of 1534, two Middlesex-clergy, 1 A llepositioR concerning the popish Conduct of a Priest: Bolls Bouse VS. ^ Information given by John Maydwell, of treasonable Words spoken tgainst Henry VIII, and Anne Boleyn: Rolls Bouse MS. 318 Catholic Treasons. [Cu. ix " walking to and fro in the cloyster garden at Sion, were there overheard compassing sedition and rebel- Feronand Uon," Johu Hale, an eager, tumultuous per- ^'¦^^' son, was prompting his brother priest, Robert Feron, with matter for a pamphlet, which Feron was to write against the king,^ " Syth the realm of Eng land was first a realm," said Hale, " was there never in it so great a robber and piller of the commonwealth read of nor heard of as is our king He is the most cruellest capital heretic, defacer and treader un der foot of Christ and of his church, continually apply ing and minding to extinct the same ; whose death, I Feron hopes bescech God, may be like to the death of that Henry's , . ., ., .z , , ,, pi, death may be the most wickecl Johu, sometimc king ot this like that of , , i ii i the man- realm, or rather to be callea a great tyran Richard. than a king ; and that his death may be not much unlike to the end of that raanqueller Richard, sometime usurper of this imperial realm. And if thou wilt deeply look upon his Ufe, thou shalt find it more foul and raore stinking than a sow waUowing and defiling herself In any filthy place," These words were spoken in EngUsh ; Feron trans lated them into Latin, and wrote thera down. Hale then continued : " Until the king and the rulers of this realra be plucked by the pates, and brought, as we say, to the pot, shall we never live merrily in Eng land, which, I pray God, may chance, and now shortly The Irish ivui comc to pass, Ireland is set against him, fhrqulrre?, whlcli wUl uevcr shrink in their quarrel to weish'wiu ' die in it ; and what think ye of Wales ? yotn thom. rpjjg jjQijig g^jj^ gentie Ap Ryce,^ so cruelly ' In this instan !e we need not doubt that the words were truly reported, for the offenders were tried and pleade;! guilty. 2 The conspiracy of " young Ryce," or Richard ap Grifyth, is one ofthe most obscure passages in the history of this reign. It was a Welsh plot, 1634.] Persecuting Laws against the Catholica. 319 put to death, and he Innocent, as they say, in the cause. X ihink not contrary, but they will join and take part with the Irish, and so invade our realm. If they do so, doubt ye not but they shall have aid and strength emvgh in England. For this is truth : three parts of England be against the king, as he shall find ^jj^e part. if he need. For of truth, they go about to Hl^^^ bring this realra into such miserable condi- *«'"°e- tion as is France ; which the commons see, and pet - aeive well enough a sufficient cause of rebellion and in surrection in this realm. And truly we of the church shall never live merrily until that day come." ^ These informations may assist us in understanding, if we cannot forgive, the severe enactments The perse- 1 , , 1 . 1 cutlng laws — severely to be executed — which were against the , . , . ,. Catholics. passed in the ensuing parliament. It is a maxim of sound policy, that actions only are a proper subject of punishment, — that to treat men as offenders for their words, their intentions, or their opinions, is not justice, but tyranny. But there Is no rule which is universally applicable. The policy of a state of war is not the policy of a state of peace. And as a soldier in a campaign is not at liberty to criticise openly the cause for which he is fighting ; as no gen eral, on his army going into action, can perrait a sub- conducted at Islington, [Act of Attainder of Richard ap Grifiyth, 23 Hen. VIII. cap. 24.] The particulars of it I am unable to discover fiirther, thaa tlvit it was a desperate undertaking, encouraged by the uncertainty ofthe luccession, and by a faith in prophecies (Confession of Sir William Neville: iloUs Bome MS.), to murder the king. Ryce was tried in Michaelmas enn, 1531, and executed. His uncle, who passed under the naiie of Bran- :«tor, was an active revolutionary agent on the Continent in the later years ^Henry's reign. — See State Papers,'^ o\. IV. pp. 647, 651,653; VoL VIIL *p. 219, 227, &c. 1 1 rial and Conviction of John Feron, clerk, and John Hale, clerk: bagade Secretis; Appendix II. to the Third Report of the Deputy Keeper tf tke Public Record. 320 Persecuting Laws against the Catholics. [Ch. ix ordinate to decline from his duty in the raoment of danger, on the plea that he is dissatisfied with tbe grounds of the quarrel, and that his conscience forbids him to take part in it ; so there are tiraes when whole nations are in a position analogous to that of an army 30 circumstanced ; when tbe safety of the State de pends upon unity of purpose, and when private persons must be compelled to reserve thefr opinions to them selves ; when they must be compelled neither to ex- Effect of cir- prcss them in words, nor to act upon them eumstancea . , . . « , , , , upcn policy, m their capacity ot citizens, except at their utmost peril. At such times the salus populi overrides all other considerations ; and the maxims and laws of calmer periods for awhile consent to be suspended. The circumstances of the year 1848 will enable us, if A modern '^^ reficct, uot upou what thoso circumstances analogy. actually wcrc, but on what they easily might have been, to understand the position of Henry VIII,'s government at the moment of the separation from Rome, If the danger in 1848 had ceased to be im- aginary, — if Ireland had broken into a real insurrec tion, — if half the population of England had been Socialist, and had been in secret league with the lead ers of the Revolution in Paris for a combined attack upon the State by insurrection and invasion, — the mere passing of a law, raaking the use of seditious language an act of treason, would not have been adequate to tbe danger. Influential persons would have been justly submitted to question on their aUe giance, and insufficient answers would have been inter preted as justifying suspicion. Not the expression only, of opinions subversive of society, but the hold ing such opinions, however discovered, would have been regarded and treated as a crime, with the full 1834.] Persecuting Laws against the Catholics. 321 consent of what is called the coramon sense and edu cated judgment of the nation,' If for "opinions subversive of society," we substi tute allegiance to the papacy, the parallel is complete between the year 1848, as it would then have been, and the time when the penal laws which are consid ered the reproach of the Tudor governments were passed against the Roman Catholics, I assume that. the Reformation was in itself right ; that the claims of the pope to an English supremacy were unjust ; and that it was good and wise to resist those claims. If this be allowed, those laws wUl not be found to deserve the reproach of tyranny. We shall see in thera but the natural resource of a vigorous government placed in circumstances of extreme peril. The Romanism of the present dav is a harmless opinion, no The Roman- 1 . ~ ., 1 1 ism of the more productive ot evil than any*other su- sixteenth perstition, and without tendency, or shadow theRoman- P 1 , , 1 n , /> 1 iam of the ot tendency, to impair the allegiance of those nineteenth. who profess it. But we must not confound a phantom with a substance ; or gather from modern experience the temper of a time when words implied realities, when Catholics really beUeved that they owed no allegiance to an heretical sovereign, and that the first duty of thefr lives was to a foreign potentate. This perilous doctrine was waning, indeed, but it was not dead. By many it was actively professed ; and among 1 History is never weaiy of repeating its warnings against narrow judg ments. A year ago we believed that the age of arbitrary severity was past. In the interval we have seen the rebellion in India; the rorms of law have been suspended, and Hindoo rajahs have been executed for no greater crime than the possession of letters frora the insurgents. The evidence of a treasonable animus has been sufficient to ensure condemnation ; aud in the presence of necessity the principles of the sixteenth century have beea Instantly revived. —April, 1858. VOL. u. gi 322 The Act of Supremacy. [Ch. nt. those by whom it was denied there were few except the Protestants whora It did not In some degree em barrass and perplex. The government, therefore, in the close of 1534, Parliament having clcar evldeucc before them of in- TCmbers" tended treason, determined to put it down with a high hand ; and with this purpose parliament met again on the 3d of November, The first act of The king is the sessIou was to givc the sanction of the preme uead legislature to the title which had been con- churoh. ceded by convocation, and to declare the king suprerae Head of the Church of England, As af firmed by the legislature, this designation meant some thing more than when It was granted three years pre viously by the clergy. It then implied that the spirit ual body were no longer to be an imperium in imperia within the realra, But should hold their powers subor dinate to the crown. It was now an assertion of independence of foreign jurisdiction ; It was the com plement of the Act of Appeals, rounding off into com pleteness the constitution in Church and State of the English nation. The act Is short, and being of so great importance, I Insert it entire, " Albeit," it runs, " the King's Majesty justly and ActofSu- rightfully is and ought to be the supreme premaxiy. jjg^j ^f ^jjg chuTch of England, and so is recognised by the clergy of this realm In their convo cation, yet nevertheless, for corroboration and confir mation thereof, and for Increase of virtue in Christ's religion within this realra of England, and to repress and extirp all errours, heresies, and other enormities and abuses heretofore used in the same : Be it en acted, by authority of this present parliament, that the King our Sovereign Lord, his heirs and successors, 534.] The Act of Supremacy. 323 .kings of this realm, shall be taken, accepted, and re puted the only supreme Head In earth of the Church of England, called Anglicana Ecclesia, and shall have and enjoy, annexed and united to the iraperial crown of this realm, as well the title and style thereof as aU the honours, dignities, pre-eminences, jurisdictions, authorities, immunities, profits, and coraraodities, to the said dignity belonging and appertaining ; and that our said Sovereign Lord, his heirs and successors, kings of this realm, shaU have full power and authority to visit, repress, redress, reform, order, correct, restrain, and amend all such errours, heresies, abuses, contempts, and enormities, whatsoever they be, which by any manner of spiritual authority or jurisdiction ought or may lawfully be reformed — most to the pleasure of Almighty God, the increase of virtue in Christ's relig ion, and for the conservation of the peace, unity, and tranquUlity of this realm — any usage, custom, for eign lawes, foreign authority, prescription, or any other thing or things to the contrary hereof notwith standing," ' Considerable sarcasm has been levelled at the as sumption by Henry of this title ; and on the accession of Ehzabeth, the crown, while reclairaing the authority, thought it prudent to retire frora the designation. Yet It answered a purpose in marking the na- The meaning PI 1" 11 i*p ^^^ value of ture ot the revolution, and the eraphasis ot the titie. the name carried home the change into the mind of the country. It was the epitome of all the measures which had been passed against the encroachrrtents of tlie spiritual powers within and without the realm ; il Was at once the svmbol of the independence « becomes I. -r, , the gage of of England, and the declaration that thence- the battle > Act of Supremacy, 26 Hen. VIII. cap. 1. 324 The Act of Supremacy. fCn, II forth the civil magistrate was supreme within th'e Eng hsh dominions over church as well as state. ^ 1 To guard against misconception, an explanatory docuraent was drawn np by the government at the time of the passing of the act, which is high ly curious and significant. " The King's Grace,' ' says this paper, " hath no new authority given hereby that he is recognised as supreme Head of the Church of England; for in that recognition is included only that he have such power as to a king of right appertaineth by the law of God; aifd not that he should take any spiritual power from spiritual ministers that is given to them by the Gospel. So that these words, that the king is supreme Head of the Church, serve rather to declare and raake open t^ the world, that the king hath power to suppress all such extorted powen is well of tbe Bishop of Rorae as of any other within this realm, whereby ins subjects might be grieved ; and to correct and remove all things whereby any un quietness might arise amongst the people ; rather than to prove that he should pretend thereby to take any powers from the successors of the apos tles that was given to them by God. And forasmuch as, in the session of this former parliament holden in the twenty-fifth year of this reign, whereby great exactions done to the king's subjects by a power from Rome was put away, and thereupon the promise was made that nothing should be interpreted and expounded upon that statute, that the King's Grace, his nobles or subjects, intended to decline or vary from the congregation of I Christ's church in anything conceming the articles of the Catholic faith, or anything declared by Holy Scripture and the Word of God neces sary for his Grace's salvation and his subjects' ; it is not, therefore, meet lightly to think that the self-same persons, continuing the self-same par liament, would in the next year following make an act whereby the king, his nobles and subjects, should so vary. And no raan may with conscience judge that they did so, except they can prove that the words of the statute, whereby the king is recognised to be the supreme Head of the Church of England, should show expressly that they intended to do so ; as it is appar ent that they do not. " There is none authority of Scripture that will prove that any one of the apostles should be head of the universal Church of Christendom. And if any of the doctors c*f the church or the clergy have, by any of their laws or decrees, declared any Scripture to be of that efrect, kings and princes, taking to thera their counsellors, and such of their clergy as they shall think raost indifferent, ought to be judges whether those declarations and laws be made according to the truth of Scripture or not; because it is said in the Psalms, ' Et nunc Reges intelligite, erudimini qui judicatis ten-am ' : that is, ' O kings ! understand ye, be ye learred that judge tho worM.' And certain it is that the Scripture is always true ; and there is nothing that the doctors and clergy might, through dread aud affection, [so well] be deceived iu, as in things concerning the honour, dignity, power, jiberty, jurisdiction, and riches of the bishops and clergy; and some of them have of likelihood been deceived tlierein." — Heada of Arguments conceming the Power of the Pope and the Royal Supremacy: RoUs Boast MS. 1584.] The Act of Supremacy. 325 Whether the king was or was not head of the church, became now therefore the rallying point of the struggle ; and the denial or acceptance of his title the test of allegiance or disloyalty. To accept it was to go along with the movement heartily and com pletely ; to deny it was to admit the rival sovereignty of the pope, and with his sovereignty the lawfulness of the sentence of excomraunication. It was to imply that Henry was not only not head of the church, but that he was no longer lawful King of England, and that the allegiance of the country must be transferred to the Princess Mary when the pope and the emperor should give the word. There raight be no intention of treason ; the raotive of the opposition might be purely religious; but frora the nature of the case op position of any kind would abet the treason of others ; and no honesty of raeaning could render possible any longer a double loyalty to the crown and to the papacy. The act conferring the title was in consequence fol lowed by another, declaring the denial of it rj^^ „e„ to be treason. It was necessary to stop the ^''^'•" *"'• tongues of the noisy mutinous raonks, to show them once for all that these high raatters were no subjects for trifling. The oath to the succession of the Prin cess Elizabeth partiaUy answered this purpose ; and the obUgation to take that oath had been extended to all classes of the king's subjects ; ^ but to refuse to Bwoar to the succession was misprision of treason only, not high treason ; and the ecclesiastics (it had been seen) found no difficulty In swearing oaths which they did not mean to observe, -The parliament therefore now attached to the statute of supremacy the following imperious corollary : — 1 26 Hen. VIII. cap. 2 326 The Oath of Allegiance.- [On. ix " Forasmuch as it is most necessary, both for com- I'orthebet- ^^°^ polIcy and duty of subjects, above aU rf'ttarraSi things to prohibit, provide, restrain, and ex- That™n°'*'^' tinct all raanner of shameful slanders, perils, brwM-ds''"' °'' inraiinent danger or dangers, which might othCTiri'sB' grow, happen, or arise to their sovereign lord kinnor ""^ t'^® king, the queen, or their heirs, which, queen of any ^^i^qxi. thev be heard, seen, or understood, one of their J ' ' ' just titles, cannot be but odible and also abhorred of all Bhall be held guilty of those sorts that be true and loving subjects, high trea- & J ' son. if jji any point they may, do, or shall touch the king, the queen, their heirs or successors, upon which dependeth the wliole unity and universal weal of this realra ; without providing wherefore, too great a scope should be given to all cankered and traitorops hearts, willers and workers of the same ; and also the king's loving subjects should not declare unto their sovereign lord now being, which unto thera both hath been and is raost entirely beloved and esteemed, their undoubted sincerity and truth : Be it therefore en acted, that if any person or persons, after the first day of February next coraing, do maliciously wish, wiU, or desire, by words or writing, or by craft imagine, in vent, practise, or attempt any bodily harm to be done or committed to the king's most royal person, the qtieen's, or their heirs apparent, or to deprive them or any of them of the dignity, title, or name of their royal estates, or slanderously and maliciously publish and pronounce by express writing or words that the k ng our sovereign lord should be heretic, schismatic, tyrant, infidel, or usurper of the crown, &c,, &c,, that ill such persons, thefr aiders, counsellors, concertors, or abettors, being thereof lawfiiUy convict according to the laws and customs of the realm, shall be adjudged 1634.] The Oath of AUegiance. 327 traitors, and that every such offence in any of the premises shall be adjudged high treason," ^ The terrible powers which were thus committed to the sovernment lie on the surface of this lan- The act o - . , made stlU maffe ; but comprehensive as the statute ap- more com- b o ' .1, p 1 111 1 prehensive, nears, it was stul further extended by the intheinter- r ' . , ., ."^ pretation of interpretation of the lawyers. In order to it. fall under its penalties it was held not to be necessary that positive guUt should be proved in any one of the specified offences ; it was enough if a raan refused to give satisfactory answers when subjected to official examination,^ At the discretion of the king or his min isters the active consent to the supremacy might be required of any person on whora they pleased to call, under penalty to the recusant of the dreadful death of a traitor. So extrerae a measure can only be regarded as a remedy for an evil which was also extreme ; and as on the return of quiet times the parliament raade haste to repeal a law which was no longer required, so in the enactment of that law we are bound to believe that they were not betraying English liberties in a spirit of careless complacency ; but that they believed truly that the security of the state required unusual precau tions. The nation was standing with Its sword half drawn in the face of an armed Europe, and it was no time to permit dissensions In the camp,* Tolera- 1 26 Hen. VHL cap. 13. 2 More warned Fisher of this. He " did send Mr. Fisher word by a let ter that Mr. Solicitor had showed him, that it was all one not to answer, and to say against the statute what a man would, as all the leaned raen in England would justify." — State Papers, Vol. I. p. 434. ' The act was repealed in 1547, 1 Edw. VI. cap. 12. The explanation which is there given of the causes which led fo the enactraent of it is tem perate and reasonable. Subjects, says that statute, should obey rather foi love of theh prince than for fear of his laws : " yet such times at some time cometh in the commonwealth, that it is necessary and expedient for the r» 328 Election of Paul the Third. [C». ix tion is good — but even the best things must abide Retributive t^efr Opportunity ; and although we may re- justice, gj.g(. ^}ja(. jji tjjjs grand struggle for freedom, success could only be won by the aid of measures which bordered upon oppression, yet here also the even hand of justices was but commending the chaUce to the lips of those who had raade others drink it to the dregs. They only were likely to fall under the Treason Act who for centuries had fed the rack and the stake with sufferers for " opinion," Having thus raade provision for public safety, the parliaraent voted a supply of raoney for the fortifica tions on the coast and for the expenses of the Irish war ; and after transferring to the crown the first-fruits of church benefices, which had been previously paid to the See of Rome, and passing at the same time a large Appointment and liberal measure for the appointment of bishops. twenty-six suffragan bishops,* they separated, not to meet again for more than a year. Meanwhile, at Rome a change had taken place which Cardinal for the moment seemed to promise that the Farnese is „ ii ¦ i mi chosen pope, storm after aU might pass away, ihe con clave haddected as a successor to Clement a man who, pressing of the insolence and unruliness of raen, and for the foreseeing and providing of remedies against rebellions, insurrections, or such raischief as God, sometime with us displeased, doth inflict and lay upon us, or the devil, at God's permission,- to assay the good and God's elect, doth sow and set among us, — the which Almighty God and man's policy hath always been content to have stjiyed — that sharper laws as a harder bridle should be made." 1 26 Henry VIII. cap. 14 : " An Act for Nomination and Consecration ot Suffragans within the Realm." - I have already stated my impression that tha method of nomination to bishopricks by the crown, as fixed by the 20th of the 25th of Henry VIIL, was not intended to be perpetual. A further evidence of what I said will be found in the arrangements under the pres ent act for tlie appointraent of suf&agans. The king raade no attempt to retain the patronage. The bishop of each diocese was to nominate two persons, and between these the crown was bound to choose. 1634.] Election of Paul the Third. 32& of all the Italian ecclesiastics, was the most likely to recompose the quarrels in the church ; and who, if the genius or the destiny of the papacy had not been too strong for any individual will, would perhaps have succeeded in restoring peace to Christendom, In the debates upon the divorce the Cardinal Farnese had been steadily upon Henry's side. He had maintained from the first the general justice of the king's de raands, Afiter the final sentence was passed, he had urged, though vainly, the reconsideration of that fatal step ; and though slow and cautious, although he was a person who, as Sir Gregory Cassalis described him, " would , accomplish little, but would make few mistakes," ^ he had allowed his opinion upon this, as on other matters connected with the English quarrel, to be generally known. He was elected therefore by French influence ^ as the person most likely jj^ is chosen to meet the difficulties of Europe in a catho- ,*nfluence''in lie and concUiating spirit. He had announced t'Sfipu',^^^^ his intention, immediately on Clement's death, "ondiMng of caUing a general council at the earliest ""''"y- moment, in the event of his being chosen to fill the papal chair ; and as he was the friend rather of Fran cis I, than of the emperor, and as Francis was actively supporting Henry, and was negotiating at the same inoment with the Protestant princes in Gerraany, it seemed as if a councU sumraoned under such auspices would endeavour to compose the general discords in a temper of wise liberality, and that some terms of com promise would be discovered where by rautuaiconcei sions Catholic and Protestant raight raeet upon a corn mon ground, 1 Parum erraturus sed pauca factums. — State Papers, VoL VIL p. 581 » Ibid. p. 573. 330 Anxiety of the Emperor. [Ch. EL The moment was propitious for such a hope ; for the accession of a moderate pope coincided with the reaction in Gerraany which followed the scandals at Munster and the excesses of John of Leyden ; and Fi-ancis pictured to himself a coalition between France, England, and the Lutherans, which, if the papacy was attached to their side, would be strong enough to beai' down opposition, and reconstitute the churches of Europe upon the basis of liberality which he seemed to have secured for the church of France, The flat tering vision in the autumn of the following year dazzled the German princes. Perhaps in the novelty of hope It was encouraged even by the pope, before he had felt the strong hand of fate which ruled his will. To Charles V, the danger of some such termmation of the great question at issue appeared raost near and real, Charles, whose resentment at the conduct of England united with a desire to assert his authority over his subjects in Germany, beheld with the utmost Anxiety and alarm a schcrac crowing to maturltv which alarm of the i ti i- i , . ,- . '' „ emperor. racuaced alike his honour, his desire ot re venge, his supremacy in Europe, and perhaps his relig ious convictions, A liberal coalition would be fatal to order, to policy, to truth ; and on the election of Cardinal Farnese, the Count de Nassau was sent on a The mission Secret mission to Paris with overtures, the of N^a^sau"? elaborate condescension of which betrays the propo^l8^or anxiety that must have dictated thera. The » league. empcror, in his self-constituted capacity of the Princess Mary's guardian, offered her hand with the English succession to the Duke of Angoulesme. From the terms on which he was thought to stand with Anne Boleyn, It was thought possible that Henry might 1634.] Proposals for a Catholic Coalition. 331 consent ; ^ he might not dare, as d'InteviUe before sug gested, to oppose the united deraands of France and the Empire.^ To Margaret de Valois the Count was to propose the splendid temptation of a marriage with PhiUp.^ If Francis would surrender the EngUsh alh ance, the emperor would make over to him the passion ately coveted Duchy of Milan,* to be annexed to France on the death of the reigning Duke, In the meantime 1 Nota qu'il ne sera pas paraventure si fort malayse a gaigner ce roy, — NoU on the margin of the Comte de Nassau's Instructions. 2 Charles V. to his Ambassador ai Paris. " November, 1534. "... In addition, the Count de Nassau and yourself may go further in sounding the King about the Count's proposal — I mean for the marriage of our cousin the Princess of England with the Duke d' Angoulesme. The Grand' Master, I understand, when the Count spoke of it, seemed to enter into tb^ suggestion, and mentioned the displeasure which the King of England haf conceived against Anne Boleyn. I am therefore sincerely desirous that thr proposal should be well considered, and you will bring it forward as yc shall see opportunity. You will make the King and the Grand Master fee' the importance of the connexion, the greatness which it would confer on the Duke d' Angoulesme, the release of the English debt, which can be easily arranged, aud the assurance of the realra of France. " Such a marriage will be, beyond comparison, more advantageous to the King, his realm, aud his children, than any benefit for which he could hope fiwm Milan ; while it can be brought about with no considerable difficulty. But be careful what you say, and how you say it. Speak alone to the King and alone to the Grand Master, letting neither of them know that you have spoken to the other. Observe carefully how the King is inclined, and, at all events, be secret ; so that if he does not like the thing, the world need not know that it has been thought of. " Should it be suggested to you — as it may be — that Anne Boleyn raay be driven desperate, and raay contrive soraething against the Princess's life, we answer that we cau hardly believe her so utterly abandoned by con science: or, again, the Duke of Anjou may possibly object to the exalta tion of his brother; in which case we shall consent willing^ to have oui cousin marry the Duke of Anjou ; and, in that case, beyond the right which appertains to the Duke and Princess from their fathers and mothers, they and either of them shall have the kmgdom of Denraark, and we will exeit ourselves to compose any difficulties with our Holy Father the Pope." — MS. Archives al Brussels. 8 State Papers,.'V-A. VII. pp. 584, 585. * Ibid, 332 Counter-Overtures of Francis to Henry. [CH,ir, he would pay to the French king, as " tribute for MUan," a hundred thousand crowns a year, as an ac knowledgraent of the right of the house of Valois. Offers such as these raight well have tempted the light ambition of Francis, If sincere, tbey were equivalent to a surrender of the prize for which the emperor's life had been spent in contending, and perilous indeed it would have been for England if this intrigue had been permitted to succeed. But whether it was that Fran cis too deeply distrusted Charles, that he preferred the more hazardous scheme ofthe German alliance, or that he supposed he could gain his object more surely with The em- ^^ ^^^P °f England, the Count de Nassau Mrr'Jec°ted^ l^ft Parls with a decisive rejection of the em- by sranois. pejoj-'g advanccs ; and in the beginning of January, De Bryon, the High Adrairal of France, was sent to England, to inforra Henry of what had passed, and to propose for Elizabeth the raarriage which Charles had desired for the Princess Mary, De Bryon's instructions were remarkable. To con- De Bryon soUdatc the alUauce of the two nations, he was England. to cutrcat Heury at length to surrender the claim to the crown of France, which had been the cause of so- many centuries of war. In return for this con cession, Francis would make over to England, Grave- lines, Newport, Dunkirk, a province of Flanders, and " the title of the Duke of Lorrayne to the town of Antwerp, with sufficient assistance for the recovery of the sarae." Henry was not to press Francis to part from the papacy ; and De Bryon seeras to have indi cated a hope that the EngUsh king might retrace his own steps. The weight of French influence, mean while, was to be pressed, to induce the pope to revoke and denounce, voyd and frustrate the unjust and slan- 1834.] Attitude of Henry. 333 derous sentence^ given by his predecessor; and the terms of this new league were to be completed by the betrothal of the Princess Elizabeth to the Duke of Angoulesme,^ There had been a time when these proposals would have answered all which Henry desired. In the early days of his reign he had indulged himself in visions of empire, and of repeating the old glories of the Plan tagenet kings. But in the peace which was concluded after the defeat of Pavia, he showed that he had re signed himself to a wiser policy,^ and the surrender of a barren designation would cost him little. In his quarrel with the pope, also, he had professed an extrem? reluctance to impair the unity of the church ; and the sacrifices which he had made, and the years of persever ing struggle which he had endured, had proved that in those professions he had not been insincere. But Henry's character was not what it had been when change in he won his titie of Defender of the Faith. In character, the experience of the last few years he had learnt to conceive some broader sense of the meaning of the Reformation ; and he had gathered from Cromwell and Latimer a more noble conception of the Protestant doctrines. He had entered upon an active course of - legislation for the putting away the injustices, the false hoods, the oppressions of a degenerate establishraent ; and in the strong sense that he had done right, and nothing else but right, in these measures, he was not now disposed to submit to a compromise, or to consent to undo anything which he was satisfied had been 1 This is Cromwell's paraphrase. Francis is not responsible for the lan guage. 2 SiaU Papers, VoL VII. pp. 584-590. ' See the long and curious correspondence between the English and Spanish courts in the State Papers, VoL VL 334 Attitude of Henry. [Ch. ix, justly done, in consideration of any supposed benefit which he could receive from the pope. He was anx ious to reraain in comraunion with the see of Rome, He was wilUng to acknowledge in some Innocuous form the Roraan supremacy. But It could be only on his own terms. The pope raust come to him ; he could not go to the pope. And the papal precedency, should only again be admitted In England on conditions which should leave untouched the Act of Appeals, and should preserve the sovereignty of the crown unimpafred. He repUed, therefore, to the overtures of Francis, Henry's re- that he was ready to enter into negotiations overtures of for the resignation of his title to the crown of king. France, and for the proposed marriage,^ Be fore any other step was taken, however, he desired his good brother to Insist that " the Bishop of Rome " The pope should rcvoko the sentence, and " declare his SeflrT'^* pretended marriage with the Lady Catherine r^s tree- "^ught ; " " which to do," Henry wrote (and onouiation. ^jjjg portion of hls reply is written by his own hand), " we think it very facUe for our good brother ; since we do perceive by letters [from Rome] both the opinions of the learned raen there to be of that opin- •ion that we be of; and also a soraewhat disposition to that purpose In the Bishop of Rome's self, according to equity, reason, and the laws both positive and di vine," If there was to be a reconciliation with the Holy See, the first advance raust be raade on the Bishop of Rome's side ; and Cromwell, in a simulta neous despatch, warned Francis not " to move or desire his Grace to the violation of any laws recently passed, as a thing vrhereunto he would in no wise condescend or agree," ^ 1 State Papers, Vol. VII. pp. 587, 688. 2 Ibid. p. 587 1534.] Distrust of France. 335 Henry, however, felt no confidence either in thi> sin ceritv of the pope, or in the sincerity of tbe Henry dia- . 11 1-1 1 TT 'rusts Jam- French kmg, as he haughtily showed. He cis. did not even trust De Bryon's account of the re jection of the overtures of the emperor, " If it hap peneth," he wrote, " that the said Bishop will obsti nately follow the steps of his predecessor, and be raore inclined to the maintenance of the actions and sen tences of his see than to equity and justice, then wc trust that our good brother — perceiving the right to stand on our side, and that not only the universities of his whole realra and dominions hath so defined, but also the most part of the rest of Christendom, and also the best learned men of the Bishop of Rome's own council, now being called for that purpose — will fully and wholly, both he and his whole realm, adhere and cleave to us and our doings in this behalf ; and we herein de- she shortly to have answer, which we would be right loth should be such as whereupon we raight take any occasion of suspicion ; trusting, further, that our said good brother will both proraise unto us upon his word, and indeed perform, that in the meantime, before the meeting of our deputies,^ he nor directly nor Indirectly shaU practise or set forth any mean or Intelligence of marriage, or of other practices with the emperour,"' So cold an answer could have arisen only frora deep distrust ; it is difficult to say whether the Tije pope distrust was wholly deserved. Analogous ad- rect ad" 1 , 1. in 1 vances, which (ranees made mdirectly trom the pope were a* received met with the same reserve. Sir Gregory Cas- coldness. salis wrote to Cromwell, that Farnese, or Paul IIL, as 1 Who were to arrange the betrothal ( f Elizabeth to the Duke of An goulesme. 2 Henry VIII. to De Bryon: State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 589. 336 England and the Papacy. [Ch. ly he was aow called, had expressed the greatest desire to please the king. He had sent for lawyers out of Tus cany, on whose judgment he had great reliance, and these lawyers had given an opinion that the pope might ex officio annul the first marriage as Henry desired, and prcnounce the second valid,^ This was well, but it did not go beyond words ; and of these there had been too many. The English government had fed upon " the cameleon's dish," " eating the air prom ise cramraed," till they were weary of so weak a diet, and they desired something more substan tial. If the pope, replied Crorawell, be really well dis posed, let him show his disposition in some public man ner, " of his own accord, with a desire only for the truth, and without waiting till the King's Majesty en treat him," 2 It would have been more courteous, and perha])s it would have been raore just, if the French overtures had been raet in a warmer spirit ; for the policy of Francis required for the time a cordial under standing with England ; and his conduct seems to prove that he was sincerely anxious to Man the pope to complacency,^ But Henry's experience guided him wisely with the Roman Bishop ; and if he had been en tangled into confidence in Farnese, he would have been entangled to his ruin. The spring of 1535 was consumed in promises, ne- guLl''oftht. gotiations, and a repetition of the profitless Cmcon^ story of the preceding years. Suddenly, in nfeonduot *^® mldst of the unreality, it became clear unifom" ^'^^^ '^^^ "^^'^ ** '^*®* ^'^^ serlous, Heury, 1 State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 591, ^ " SuS sponte solius veritatis propagandas studio; nulU regiie Majestatis intercessione expectatS,." — Cromwell to Cassalis: Ibid. p. 692. 8 Language can scarcely be stronger than that which he directed hi» ambassador at Rome to use — short, at least, sf absolute menace. — Ibid, pp. 593, 594. 1635.] The Penal Laws. 337 with an insurgent Ireland and a mutinous England upon his hands, had no leisure for diplomatic finesse ; he had learnt his lesson with Clement, and was not to be again deceived. The language of the Roman sec had been inconsistent, but the actions of it had been always uniform, Frora the first beginning of the dispute to the final break and excoramunication, in the teeth of his proraises, his flatteries, his acknowl edgments, Clement had been the partisan of Cather ine, When the English agents were collecting the opinions of the Italian universities, they were thwarted by his emissaries. He had intrigued against Henry in Scotland; he had tampered with Henry's English and Irish subjects ; he had maintained a secret correspond ence with Catherine herself. And so well had his true feelings and the true position of the question been understood by the papal party in England, that at the very time when at Marseilles and elsewhere the pope himself was admitting the justice of the king's demand, the religious orders who were most unwavering in their allegiance to the papacy, were pressing thefr opposition to the divorce into rebellion. When, therefore, the chair of St, Peter was filled by a new occupant, and language of the untuthe same smooth kind began again to issue frora Joret'shom' it, the English government could not for so T^^^^^^ light a cause consent to arrest their raeasures, ^^^notZ or suspend the action of laws which had been =¦"«=*«*• passed from a conviction of their necessity. Whatever might become of French marriages, or of the cession of « corner of the Netherlands and a few towns upon the coast m exchange for a gaudy title, the English Refor mation must continue its way ; th^ nation must be steered clear among the reefs and shoals of treason. VOL. n. oo 338 The Battle of the Faiths. [Ch,ii The late statutes had not been passed without a cause ; and when occasion came to enforce them, were not to pass off, like the thunders of the Vatican, in impotent noise. Here, therefore, we are to enter upon one of the The martyr- gi'aud sccucs of hlstoiy ; a solcmn battle CattfoUcs fought out to the death, yet fought without tents^auSo- ferocIty, by the champions of rival principle.s. deaths'm HeroIc men had fallen, and were stUl fiist battle. fiilling, for what was called heresy ; and now those who had infiicted death on others were called upon to bear the sarae witness to their own sincerity, Eng land became the theatre of a war between two armies of raartyrs, to be waged, not upon the open field, in open action, but on the stake and on the scaffold, with the nobler weapons of passive endurance. Each party were ready to give their blood ; each party were ready to shed the blood of their antagonists ; and the sword was to single out Its victiras In the rival ranks, not as in peace among those whose crimes made them dangerous to society, but, as on the field of battle, where the most conspicuous courage most challenges the aim of the eneray. It was war, though under the form of peace ; and if we would understand the true spirit of the time, we must rega,rd Catholics and Protestants as gallant soldiers, whose deaths, when they faU, are not painful, but glorious ; and whose devotion we are equaUy ablo to admire, even where we cannot equally approve their cause. Courage and self-sacrifice are beautifiil alike in an enemy and in a friend. And whUe we exult in that chivalry with which the Smithfield martyrs bought England's freedora with their blood, so we will not refuse our admiration to thtise other gallant men whose high forms, in the sunset of the old faith, 1M5.] The Charterhouse Monks. 339 stand transfigured on the horizon, tinged with the light of its dying glory. Secretary Bedyll, as we saw above, complained to Cromwell of the obstinacy of certain friars and monks, who, he thought, would confer a service on the country by dying quietly, lest honest men should incur un merited obloquy in putting them to death. Araong these, the brethren of the London Charter- -the monks house were especially mentioned as recalcl- SJi^chMtor trant, and they were said at the same time ^'^'^' to bear a high reputation for holiness. In a narrative written by a member of this body, we are brought face to face, at their time of trial, with one of the few religious establishments in England which continued to deserve the name ; and we raay see. In the scenes which are there described, the highest representation of struggles which graduated variously according to character and temper, and, without the tragical result, may have been witnessed in very many of the monas tic houses. The writer was a certain Maurice Chan- ney, probably an Irishman, He went through the same sufferings with the rest of the brethren, and was one of the small fraction who finally gave way under the trial. He was set at liberty, and escaped abroad ; and in penance for his weakness, he left on record the touching story of his faU, and of the triumph of his bolder companions. He commences with his own confession. He had fallen when others stood. He was, as he stoty of says, an unworthy brother, a Saul among channey. the prophets, a Judas among the apostles, a chUd of Ephraim turning himself back in the day of battle — tor which his cowardice, while his brother monks were »amts in heaven, he was doing penance in sorrow, toss' 340 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ca.a bg on the waves of the wide world. The early chapters contain a loving lingering picture of his clois ter life — to bim the perfection of earthly happiness. It is placed before us, in all its superstition, its devo tion, and its simpUcity, the counterpart,, even in mi nute details., of the stories of the Saxon recluses whc.u monasticism was in the young vigour of its life, St, Bede or St, Cuthbert might have found himself in the house of the London Carthusians, and he would have had few questions to ask, and no dutie.s to learn or to unlearn. The form of the buUdings would have seemed more elaborate ; the notes of the organ would. have added richer solemnity to the services ; but the salient features of the scene would have been all : Unity of the iar, Hc would have lived in a ceU ofthe monastic , , iii i ii life. same shape, he would have thought the saine thoughts, spoken the same words in the same language. The prayers, the daily life, almost the very faces with which he was surrounded, would have seemed all un altered, A thousand years of the world's history had rolled by, and these lonely islands of pjayer had re mained still anchored in the streara ; the sti-Einds of the ropes which held them, wearing now to a thread, and very near their last parting, but still unbroken. What they had been they were ; and, if Maurice Channey's description had come down to us as the ac count of the monastery in which Offa pf Mercia did penance for his crimesj we could have detected no internal syraptoms of a later age. His pages are filled with the old famiUgjc stories pf chaniioy?s vIsIous aiid mlraclcs ; of strange adventure oftt. befalling the cbaUces and holy wafei;s;^ of angels with wax candles ; innocent phantoms which 1 Historia Martyrv/n ^nglorun}, cap. 2. Osi.] The Ghartethm^6 Monks, 341 feted f&iffld brdiins and minds fevered by asceticistB, There ai'e accounts of certain //aires reprobi et eorum UmibiUs pWdtio — frail brethren and the fiightful ca- tSStfophes which ensued to them,^ Brother Thomas, who told stories out of doors, apud sdeenlares, was attacked one night by the devil ; and the fietid would have strangled him but for the prayers of a eoMpanlon, Brother G^orgCj who craved after the fleshpots of Egyptj. was walkihg one day about the cloister when he oiight to have been at chapel, and the great figul** Upon the cross at the end of the gallery turned its back npoii hiiii as it hungj atid droVe him all but ifladt Brother John Daly found fatilt with his dinner, and told that he would as Soon eat toads — Mira res! Justus Deus non ftaUddvit enm desidefio *mo — his eel) was for three months filled with toads. If he threw thefti into the fire, they hopped back to him nn scorched ; if he killed theffl, othefs came to take their place. But these bad bfothers were rare exceptions. In general the house Was perhaps the best ordered ifl England, The hospitality Was well sustained, the charities Were profiise, and whatever we may think of the IfiteUect which could busy itself with fancies seem- Mgly So childish, the moiiks Were true to their vows, tod true to their duty as far as they comprehended What dutf meanti Among: manv g6t>d, the etmrnaim «t T 1. TT 1 1 1 TT Haughton, pnor John Haughton was the best. He was th^pHoir. of ati old EngUsh family^ wd had beefli educated at Cambridge, where he mnst have been the eontemporary of Latimer, At the age of twenty-eight he took the tows as a iflonk, aftd had been twenty y'eafs a Carthtt* Sian at tiie opening of the troubles of the Reformation. 1 Historia Mttriffrmi AngMv)lh, cap. 8. 342 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ch. ix He Is described as " smaU in stature, in figure gracefiil, in countenance dignified," " In manner he was most modest ; in eloquence most sweet ; In chastity without stain," We may readily Imagine his appearance ; with that feminine austerity of expression which, as has been well said, belongs so peculiarly to the features of the mediaeval ecclesiastics. Such was the society of the monks of the Charter house, who, in an era too late for thefr continuance, and guilty of being unable to read the signs of the times, were summoned to wage unequal battie with the world. From the commencement of the divorce cause The monks ^^7 ^^^ espoused Instinctively the queen's K Jquwu side ; they had probably. In common with Catherine, ^jjgj^. afSUated house at Sion, believed un wisely In the Nun of Kent ; and, as pious Catholics, they regarded the reforming measures of the parlia ment with dismay and consternation. The year 1533, says Maurice,^ was ushered in with signs in heaven and prodigies upon earth, as if the end of the world was at hand ; as Indeed of the monks and the monks' world the end was truly at hand. And then came the spring of 1634, when the act was passed cutting off the Princess Mary from the succession, and requiring of all subjects of the realm an oath of allegiance to Elizabeth, and a recognition of the king's marriage with Queen Anne. Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher went to the Tower, as we saw, rather than swear; and about the same time the royal commis sioners appeared at the Charterhouse to require the submission of 'ihe brethren. The regular clergy through the kingdom had bent to the storm. The conscience of the London Carthusians was less elastic ; they were 1 Bistoria Mairtyrum, cap, 9. 1B36.] The Charterhouse Monks. ' 343 the first and, with the exception of More and Fisher, the only recusants, " The prior did answer They are I • • 5) -iir . n required to to the commissioners, Maurice tells us, taketheoath " that he knew nothing of such matters, and and refuse. ' could not meddle with them ; and they continuing to insist, and the prior being stUl unable to give other answer, he was sent with Father Humphrey, our proc tor, to the Tower," There he remained for a raonth ; and at the end of It he was persuaded by The prior is " certain good and learned men" ^ that the Smlt^fJ" cause was not one for which it was lawful to "»<''"""«• suffer. He undertook to comply, suh conditione, with some necessary reservations, and was sent home to the cloister. As soon as he returned, the brethren assem bled in their chapter-house " in confusion and great perplexity," and Haughton told thera what he had promised. He would submit, he said, and yet his mis givings foretold to him that a submission so raade could not long avaU, " Our hour, dear brethren," he con tinued, " is not yet come. In the sarae night in which we were set free I had a dream that I should ^.^^ prior's not escape thus. Within a year I shall be *'*™- brought again to that place, and then 1 shall finish my course," If martyrdom was so near and The monks so mevitable, the remainder of the monks '»«»''»'«. were at first reluctant to purchase a useless delay at the pri(5e of their convictions. The coramissioners came with the lord mayor for the oath, and But at last it was refiised. They came again, with the ^jf'"*- uireat of instant Imprisonment for the whole frater- Jiity; "and then," says Maurice, "they prevaUed with us. We all swore as we were required, making 1 Stokesley, Bishop of London, among others: StaU Papers, Vol. I. pp. 344 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ca, IX one condition, that we submitted only so far as it was lawful for us so to do. Thus, like Jonah, we were delivered frora the belly of this monster, this iramanis ceta, and began again to rejoice Uke him, under the shadow of the gourd of our home. But It is better to trust in the Lord than In princes. In whom is no salva tion ; God had prepared a worm that smote our gourd and made it to perish," ^ This worm, as may be supposed, was the act of supremacy, with the statute of treasons which was at tached to it. It was ruled, as I have said, that inade quate answers to official inquiry formed sufficient ground for prosecution under these acts. But this interpretation was not generally known ; nor among those who knew it was it certain whether the crown would avail itself of the powers which It thus possessed, or whether it would proceed only against such of fenders as had voluntarily comraitted themselves to The convent opposition. In the Opening of the following hears of the '^^ , Treason Act. year [1535] the first uncertainty was at an end ; it was publicly understood that persons who had previously given cause for suspicion might be sub mitted to question. When this bitter news "was no longer doubtful, the prior called the convent together, and gave thera notice to prepare for what was coming. They lay already under the shadow of treason ; and he anticipated, among other evil consequences of dlsotiedlence, the iraraediate dissolution of the house. Even he, with all his forebodings, was unprepared for the course .which would reaUy be taken with them. •' When we were all in great consternation," writes our author, " he said to us : — " * Very sorry am I, and my heart is heavy, espe 1 Bistoria Martyrum, cap, 9. 1835.] The Charterhouse Monki. 345 cially for you, my younger friends, of whom I see ao many round me. Here you are living in your j^^ p^or'a innocence. The yoke wUl not be laid on your ^^''^¦ necks, nor the rod of persecution. But if you are taken hence, aiid mingle among the GentUes, you may learn the works of them, and having begun in the spirit you may be consumed In the flesh, Alid there may be others among us whose hearts are still infirm. If these mix again with the World, I fear how It may be -with them ; and what shall I say, and what shall I do, if I caniiot save those whom God has trusted to my charge ? ' " Then aU who were present," sayS Channey, " burst iiito tears, and cried with olle voice, ' Let us die to" gether in our integrity, and heaven and earth shall witness for us how unjustly We are cut off,' - " The prior answered, sadly, ¦ — ' Would, itideed, that it might be so ; that so dying -we tiiight live, as liring we die' — but they will not do to us so gi'eat a kindness, nor to themselves so great an injriry. Many of you are of noble blood ; and what I thmk they will do is this : Me and the elder brethfeii they wiU kUl ; and they wiU dismiss you that are youlig into a world which is liot for you, if, therefore, it depend ifjt maybe Sn me atone— if my oath will suffice for the ™'u*X" house — 1 will throw myself for your sakes On ^^Lafor the mercy of God. IwiU make myself math- "« »>"'•««"• 'ema ; tmd to preserve you fi-om these dangers, Pwill consent to ihe king's will. If, howevet, they |jaVe de- termitied otherwise — if they choOse to have the con sent of us aU — the wiu of God be dctne. If one death WiU not aVaU, We wUl die aU,' " So then, bidding us prepare for the -trftrgt, that the Lord when he knocked might fittd tis rfeady, he desired 346 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ch,ix. ns to choose each our confessor, and to confess our sins one to another, giving us power to grant each other absolution, " The day after he preached a sermon in the chapel on the 59th Psalm, — ' O God, Thou hast cast us off, Thou hast destroyed us ; ' ' concluding with the words, ' It is better that we should suffer here a short The brethren penancc for our faults, than be reserved for preparations, the etemal palus of hell hereafter ; ' — and so ending, he turned to us and bade us all do as we saw him do. Then rising from his place he went direct to the eldest of the brethren, who was sitting nearest to himself, and kneeling before him, begged his forgive ness for any offence which in heart, word, or deed, he might have committed against him. Thence he pro ceeded to the next, and said the same ; and so to the next, through us all, we following him and saying as he did, each from each imploring pardon," Thus, with unobtrusive nobleness, did. these poor men prepare themselves for their end ; not less beauti ful in their resolution, not less deserving the everlast ing remembrance of mankind, than those three hundred who in the summer morning sate combing their golden hair in the passes of Thermopylse, We wUl not re gret their cause ; there is no cause for which any man can more nobly suffer than to witness that it is better for him to die than to speak words which he does not mean. Nor, in this thefr hour of trial, were they left without higher comfort. " The third day after," the story goes on, " was the daass of the Holy Ghost, and God made known his oresence among us. For when the host was lifted up, there came as it were a whisper of afr, which breathed 1 The 60th in the English version. 1635.] The Charterhouse Monks. 347 upon our faces as we knelt Some perceived it with the bodily senses ; all felt it as it thrilled into thefr hearts. And then followed a sweet, soft sound of music, at which our venerable father was so moved, God being thus abundantly raanifest among us, that he sank down in tears, and for a long time could not continue the service — we all reraaining stupified, hear ing the melody, and feeling the marveUous effects of it upon our spirits, but knowing neither whence It came nor whither it went. Only our hearts rejoiced as we perceived that God was with us indeed," Comforted and resolute, the brotherhood awaited patiently the approach of the coramissioners ; The goyem- and they waited long, for the crown was in no haste to no haste to be severe. The statutes had statutes. been passed in no spirit of cruelty ; they were weapons to be used in base of extremity ; and there was no atteinpt to enforce them until forbearance was miscon strued into fear. Sir Thomas More and the Bishop of Rochester remained unquestioned In the Tower, and were allowed free intercourse with their friends. The Carthusian monks were left undisturbed, although the attitude which they had assumed was notorious, and although the prior was known to forbid his peni tents in confession to acknowledge the king's suprem acy. If the government was at length driven to severity, it was because the clergy forced them to it In spite of themselves. The clergy had taken the oath, but they, held them selves under no obligation to observe it ; or if conduct of they observed the orders of the crown in the **" °'°'*^' letter, they thwarted those orders in the spirit. The Treason Act had for awhile overawed them ; but finding that its threats were confined to language, that months 348 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ch, IX. passed away, and that no person had as yet been prose cuted, they fell back into open opposition, either care less of the consequences, or believing that the govern ment did not dare to exert its powers. The detaUs of their conduct during the spring months of this year 1 am unable to discover ; but it was such as at length, on the 17th of April, provoked the following circular to tlie lords-lieutenant of the various counties : ^ — " Right trusty and weU-beloved cousin, we greet you Circular of weU ; and whereas it has come to our knowl- the 17th of ' „ ,. , April. edge that sundry persons, as well religious as secular priests and curates in their parishes and in The clergy dlvers ulaccs wlthlu this our realm, do daUv, In divers \ . . ' i i places con- as much as m them is, set torth and extol the for the pope, jurisdiction of the Bishop of Rorae, otherwse called the Pope ; sowing their seditious, pestUent, and false doctrines ; praying for hira in the pulpit and mak ing him a god ; to the great deceit of our subjects, bringing them into errours and evil opinions ; more preferring the power, laws, and jurisdiction of the said Bishop of Rome than the most holy laws and precepts of Almighty God : We therefore, minding not only to proceed for an unity and quietness among our said subjects, but also greatly coveting and desiring them to be brought to a knowledge of the mere veritv and truth, and no longer to be seduced -wnth any such su perstitious and fe,lse doctrines of any earthly usurper of God's laws — will, therefore, and command you, that The king whensoever ye shall hear of any such seditious S^iTpIr- persons, ye Indelayedly do take and apprehend Ihaiibe^M-® thera, or cause thera to be apprehended and **''"*• taken, and so coraraitted to ward, there to remain without bail or mainprize, until, upon yout 1 Printed in Strype's Memorials, Vol. I. Appendix, p. 208. I5!i5.] 2%e Charterhouse Monks. 349 advertisement thereof to us and to our council, ye shall know our further pleasure, Henky R," In obvious connexion with the issue of this publica tion, the monks of the Charterhouse were at The Cartha 11 1 111 , 1 sians are length informed that they would be questioned called upop , mi 11 /> 1 toackuowl- on the supremacy, Ihe great body ot the edge the religious houses had volunteered an outward premaoy, submission. The London Carthusians, with other af filiated establishments, had remained passive, and had thus furnished an open encouragement to disobedience. We are instinctively inclined to censure an interfer ence with persons who at worst were but dreamers ofthe iloister ; and whose Innocence of outward offences we imagine might have served them for a shield. Unhap pily, behind the screenwork of these poor saints a whole Irish insurrection was blazing in madness and fury ; and in the northern English counties were some sixty thou sand persons ready lo rise in arras. In these great struggles men are formidable in proportion to ^^^ ^^^^^ their rirtues. The noblest Protestants were iJcfom"' chosen by the Catholics for the stake. The b»™'°™°«- fagots were already growing which were to burn Tyn dal, the translator of the Bible, It was the habit of the time, as it is the habit of all times of real danger, to spare the multitude but to strike the leaders, to make responsibihty the shadow of power, to choose for pun ishment the most efficacious representatives of the spirit which it was necessary to subdue, * The influence of the Carthusians, with that of the two great mon who were following the same road to the same goal, determmed multitudes In the attitude which they would assume, and In the duty which thejr Would choose. The Carthusians, therefore, were to 860 The Charterhouse Monks. iCa.lx be made to bend ; or if they could not be bent, to be made examples in their punishment, as they had made themselves examples In their resistance. They were noble and good ; but there were others In England good and noble as they, who were not of their fold ; and whose virtues, thenceforward more required by England than cloistered asceticisms, had been bUghted under the shadow of tbe papacy. The Catholics had chosen the alternative, either to crush the free thought which was bursting from the soU, or else to be crushed by it ; and the future of the world could not be sacri ficed to preserve the exotic graces of medlseval saints. They fell, gloriously and not unprofitably. They were not allowed to stay the course of the Reformation ; but their sufferings, nobly bome, sufficed to recover the syrapathy of after-ages for the faith which they pro. fessed. Ten righteous raen were found in the midst of the corruption to purchase for Romanism a few more centuries of tolerated endurance. To return to the narrative of Maurice Channey. Notice of the intention of the governraent having been signified to the order. Father Webster and Father Lawrence, the priors of the two daughter houses of Axholm and BelviUe, came up to London three weeks after Easter, and, with Haughton, presented themselves before Cromwell with an entreaty to be excused the submission. For answer to thefr petition they were The prior sent to the Towcr, where thev were soon vith three ft , • i i r-i i others are after jomcd bv Father Revnolds, one of the sent to the • 1 /.f>. n Tower, recalcitrant monks of Sion, These four were bronght on the 26th of April before a comraittee of the privy council, of which CromweU was one. The act of supremacy was laid before them, and they were re qufred to signify their acceptance of it. They refused, 16.35.] The Charterhouse Monks. 351 and two days after they were brought to trial before a special commission. They pleaded all " not Andbrought guilty," They had of course broken the act ; April 2&. but they would not acknowledge that guilt could be involved in disobedience to a law which was Itself un lawfiil. Their words in the Tower to the privy coun cil formed the matter of the charge against them. It appears from the record that on their exaraination, " they, treacherously machinating and desiring to deprive the king our sovereign lord of his title of supreme Head of the Church of England, did openly declare and say, the king our sovereign lord is not supreme Head on earth of the Church of England," ^ But their conduct on the trial, or at least the con duct of Haughton, spared all difficulty in securing a conviction. The judges pressed the prior " not to shew so little wisdom as to maintain his own opin ion against the consent of the realm," He Haughton's replied, that he had resolved originally to the bar. imitate the exaraple of his Master before Herod, and say nothing, " But since you urge rae," he continued, " that I may satisfy my own conscience and the con sciences of these who are present, I will say that our opinion, if It might go by the suffrages of men, would have more witnesses than yours. You can produce on your side but the parliament of a single kingdorii; I, on mine, have the whole Christian world except that kingdom. Nor have you all even of your own peo ple. The lesser part is with you. The majority, who seem to be with you, do but dissemble, to gain fa vour with the king, or for fear they should lose thefr honours and their dignities," ^ Baga de Secretis; Appendix II. to tne Thvrd Report of the DqHU$ Keeper ofthe Public Becords. 852 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ch, tx. Cromwell asked him of whom he was speaking* " Of all the good men in the realm," he replied ; " and when his Majesty knows the truth, I know weU he will be beyond measure offended with those of his bishops who have given him the counsel which he now follows," " Why," said another of the judges, " have you, con trary to the king's authority within the realm, per. suaded so many persons as you have done to disobey the king and parliament? " " I have declared my opinion," he answered^ " to no man living but to those who came to me in confes sion, which In discharge of my conscience I could not refuse. But if I did not declare it then, I wUl declare it now, because I am thereto obliged to God," ^ He neither looked for mercy nor desired It, A writ was Thursday Issucd for the return of a petty jury the foUow- Aprii 29. jjjg (]^y_ 'pjjg prisoners were taken back to the Tower, and the next morning were brought again to the bar. Feron and Hale, the two priests whose con versation had been overheard at Sion, were placed on their trial at the same time. The two latter threw The prison- thcmselves OU the mercy of the court, A demned. vcrdlct of guUty was returned against the other four. The sentence was for the usual punish ment of high treason, Feron was pardoned ; I do not find on what account. Hale and the Carthusians were to suffer together. When Haughton heard the sen tence, he merely said, " This is the judgment of the world," 2 1 Strypo'e Memorials, Vol. I. p. 305 ; Bistoria Martyrum Anghrnm. s Father Maurice says that the jury desired to acquit; and after debating tor a night, were preparing a verdict of Not Guilty ; when Cromwell, hear- tog of their intention, went in person to thfe room wheie they were assem bled, and threatened them with death unless they did what Ike called theii 1635.] The Charterhouse Monks. 358 An interval of five days was allowed after the triaL On the 4th of May, the execution took place May 4. _ , 1 . ,.,11 Theexecu- at lybum, under circurastances which marked tion. the occasion with peculiar meaning. The punishraent In cases of high treason was very terrible, I need not dweU upon the forra of it. The English were a hard, fierce people ; and with these poor sufferers the law of the land took its course without alleviation or interfer ence. But another feature distinguished the present ex ecution. For the first time in EngUsh historv. They ate 1 • • 1 1 "« , 1 . brought to ecclesiastics were brought out to suner m their the scaffold , , , . 1 , ^, , , in their habits. Without undergoing the previous cere- hawts. mony of degradation. Thenceforward the world were to know, that as no sanctuary any more should protect traitors, so the sacred office should avail as little ; and the hardest blow which it had yet received was thus dealt to superstition, shaking from its place in the minds of all men the key-stone ofthe whole system. To the last moment escape was left opeii, if the prisoners would submit. Several merabers of the council attended them to the closing scene, for a last effort of kindness ; but they had chosen their course, and were not to be moved from it, Haugh- Haughton ton, as first in rank, had the privilege of first ^"^ ^"'¦ dying. When on the scaffold, in compliance with the usual custom, he spoke a few touching and siinple words to the people, " I call to witness Almighty God," he said, " and all good people, and I beseech duty. The story is internally improbable. The conditions of, the case did not admit of an acquittal ; and the conduct attributed to Cromwell is in consistent with his character. Any doubt which might remain, in the ab sence of opposing testimony, is removed by the record of the trial, from which it appears clearly that the juiy were not returned until the 29th of April, and that the verdict was given in on the aame day. — Baga de Secre tis; Appendix to the Third Beport of the Deputy Keeper of the Publie Records. VOL. II. 23 354 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ch.ix you all here present to bear witness for me m the day of judgment, that being here to die, I declare that it is from no obstinate rebellious spirit that I do not obey the king, but because I fear to offend the Majesty of God, Our holy mother the church has decreed other wise than the king and the parliament have de creed, and therefore, rather than disobey the church, I am ready to suffer. Pray for me, and have mercy on my brethren, of whom I have been the unworthy prior," He then knelt down, repeating the first few verses of the 31st Psalm,^ and after a few raoraents delivered himself to the execufioner. The others fol- Theoounou lowed. Undaunted, As one by one they rest to sub- wciit to thcfr death, the 'council, at each vain. fresh horrible spectacle, urged the survivors to have pity on theraselves ; but they urged them in vain. The faces of these men did not grow pale ; their voices did not shake ; they declared themselves liege subjects of the king, and obedient chUdren of hply church ; " giving God thanks that they were held worthy to suffer for the truth," ^ All died without a murmur. The stern work was ended with quartering the bodies ; and the arm of Haughton was hung up as a bloody sign over the archway of the Charterhouse, to awe the reraaining brothers into submission. But the spirit of the old martyrs was in these fiiars. One of them, like the Theban sister, bore away the 1 " In thee, 0 Lord, have I put my trust : let me never be put to confiision ! deliver me in thy righteousness. Bow down thine ear to me ; make haste to deliver me. And be thou my strong rock and house of defence, that thou mayest save me. For thou art my strong rock, and my castle ; be thou also my guide, and lead me for thy name's sake. Draw me out of the nel that they have laid privily for me : for thou art my strength. Into thy hands I commend my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, 0 Lord, thou God of truth!" 2 Bistoria Martyrum Anglorum. 1635.] The Charterhouse Monks. 356 honoured relic and buried It ; and all resolved to per sist in thefr resigned opposition. Six weeks Juneio. were allowed them to consider. At the end Carthusians /» 1 , , 1 1 -1 tried and of that time three raore were taken, tried, executed. and hanged ; ^ and this stUl proving ineffectual, Crom well hesitated to proceed. The end of the story is very touching and may be told briefly, that I may not have occasion to cromweii return to it, Maurice's account is probably ^''^^*^^- exaggerated, and is written In a tone of strong emo tion ; faut it has aU the substantial features ciose ofthe of truth. The remaining raonks were left Carthusians in the house ; and two secular priests were sent to take charge of the establishment, who starved and ill- used them ; and were themselves, according to Maurice, sensual and profligate, Frora time to tirae they were called before the privy council. Their friends and rel atives were ordered to work upon thera. No effort either of severity or kindness was spared to induce them to subrait ; as if their attitude, so long as it was maintained, was felt as a reproach by the government. At last, four were carried down to Westminster Ab bey, to hear the Bishop of Durham deliver his famous sermon against the pope ; and when this rhetorical inanity had also failed, and as they were thought to confirm one another in their obstinacy, they were dis persed among other houses the temper of which could be depended upon. Some were sent to the north ; others to Sion, where a new prior had been appointed, of zealous loyalty ; others were left at home to be dis ciplined by the questionable seculars. But nothing answered. Two found their way into active rebellion, 1 On the 19th of Jnne, HaU says they were insolent to CromweU on their trial. 356 The Charterhouse Monks. [Ch.ix and being concerned In the Pilgrimage of Grace, were hung in chains at York, Ten were sent to Newgate, Theywiunot wherc iiiue died miserably of prison fever are crushed, and filth ; ^ the tenth survivor was executed. The reraainder, of whora Maurice was one, -went through a form of subraission, with a mental reserva tion, and escaped abroad. So fell the monks of the London Charterhouse, splintered to pieces — for so only could their resistance be overcome — by the fron sceptre and the iron hand which held It, They were, however, alone of thefr kind. There were many perhaps who wished to re serable thera, who would have iraitated their example had they dared. But all bent except these. If It had been otherwise, the Reformation would have been im- The neces- possIblc, aiid pcrhaps it would not have been sity wasa *¦ , , , , , „ , cruel one, needed, Iheir story clairas trom us that ernment are Sympathy whlch Is the due of their exalted not to be ti i i i ' blamed. couragc. But we cannot blame the govern ment. Those who know what the condition of the country really was, must feel their Inability to suggest, with any tolerable reasonableness, what else could have been done. They raay regret so hard a necessity, but they will regret in silelice. The king, too, was not without feeling. It was no matter of indifference to him that he found himself driven to such stern courses with his subjects ; and as the golden splendour of his 1 " By the hand of God," according to Mr. Secretary Bedyll. " My very good Lord, after my raost hearty commendations, it shall please your lordship to understand that the monks of the Charterhouse here in London which were committed to Newgate for their traitorous behaviour, long time continued against the King's Grace, be almost dispatched by the hand of Bod, as may appear to you by this bill enclosed ; whereof, considering theit behaviour and the whole matter, I am not sorry, but would that all such u love not the King's Highness and his worldly honour were in like case.' .—Bedyll to Oromwell: Suppression qf ihe Monasteries, p. 162. 1635.] Th3 Anabaptist Martyrs 357 manhood was thus sullenly clouding, " he commanded all about his court to poll their heads," in The king public token of mouming; "and to give eourMnto them example, he caused his own head to be """"""b- polled ; and from thenceforth his beard to be knotted, and to be no more shaven," i The fi-Iars of Charterhouse suffered for the Catholic faith, as Protestants had suffered, and were Mays. still to suffer, for a faitii fairer than theirs, tyrswho In this same month' of May, in the same cathoUcs. year, the English annals contain another entry of no less sad significance. The bishops, as each day they parted fiirther from their old allegiance, and were c.alled in consequence by the hatefiil name of heretics, were increasingly anxious to prove by evident tokens their zeal for the true faith ; and although the late act of heresy had moderated their powers, yet power enough remained to enable thera to work their will upon aU extrerae offenders, Henry, also, it is Ukely, was not sorry of an opportunity of showing that his justice was even-handed, and that a schism from the papacy was not a lapse into heterodoxy. His mind was moving, Latimer and Shaxton, who three years before had been on trial for their lives, were soon to be upon the bench ; and in the late injunctions, the Bible, and not the decrees of the church, had been held up as the canon of ti-uth. But heresy, though the definition of it was changing, remained a crirae ; and although the limits of permitted belief were im perceptibly enlarging, to transgress the recognised boundaries was an offence enormous as ever. If we can conceive the temper with which the I Stow, p. 571. And see the Diary pf Eichard Hilles, merchant, of Lon ion, US., BaUiol CoUege, Oxford. 358 The Anabaptist Martyrs. [Gh. ix reasonable and practical English at present regard the Socialists of the continent, deepened by an intensity of conviction of which these later ages have had but little experience, we can then Imagine the light in Popular esti- whlch the Auabaptlsts of the Netherlands mate of the i ¦ i p i l -n Anabaptists, appeared in the eyes ot orthodox Europe. Tf sorae opinions, once thought heretical, were re garded with less agitated repugnance, the heresy of these enemies of mankind was patent to the world. On them the larws of the country might take their natural course, and no voice was raised to speak for them. We find, therefore, in Stow's Chronicle, the follow ing brief entry : " The five and twentieth day of May were, in St, Paul's church, Lon don, examined nineteen men and six women, born in Holland, whose opinions were — first, that in Christ is not two natures, God and man ; secondly, that Christ took neither flesh nor blood of the Vfrgin Mary; thirdly, that children bom of infidels raay be saved ; fourthly, that baptism of children Is of none effect ; fifthly, that the sacrament of Christ's body is but bread only ; sixthly, that he who after baptisra sinneth wit tingly, sinneth deadly, and cannot be saved, Four- Fourtecn of tccu of them werc condemned : a man and executed. a woman were burnt at Smithfield, The remaining twelve were scattered araong other towns, there to be burnt," ^ The detaUs are gone,^ — the 1 Stow's Chronicle, p. 571. 2 Latimer alludes to the story with no disapproval of the execution of these men — as we should not have disapproved of it, if we had lived then, unless we had been Anabaptists ourselves. A brave death, Latimer says, is no proof of a good cause. " This is no good argument, my friends ; this is a deceivable argument : he went to his death boldly — ergo, he Btandeth in a just quarrel. The Anabaptists that were burnt here in di vers towns iu England (as I heard of credible men — I saw ,!hem not my- 1635.] Fisher and More. 369 names are gone. Poor Hollanders they were, and that is all. Scarcely the fact seemed worth the men tion, so shortly it Is told in a passing paragraph. For them no Europe was agitated, no courts were ordered into mouming, no papal hearts trembled with indigna tion. At their deaths the world looked on complacent, indifferent, or exulting. Yet here, too, out of twenty- five common men and women were found fourteen who, by no terror of stake or torture, could be tempted to say that they believed what they did not beUeve. History for them has no word of praise ; yet They too dia , ... I'lii, . no' die in they, too, were not giving then- blood in vam. vain. Their Uves might have been as useless as the Uves of most of us. In thefr deaths they assisted to pay the purchase-money for England's freedora. After the execution of the Carthusians, It became a question what should be done with the Bishop pig^^^ ^^ of Rochester and Sir Thomas More, They **"'• had remained for a year In the Tower, undisturbed ; aud there is no reason to think that they would have been further troubled, except for the fault of one, if not of both. It appeared, however, on the trial of Father Reynolds, that Fisher's Imprudence or Rsher's dan- zeal had tempted him again to meddle with prudence. dangerous matters, A correspondence had passed be tween the bishop and the klng,^ on the Act of Suprem acy, or on some subject connected with it. The king had taken no pubUc notice of Fisher's words, but he self), went to their death intrepide, as you will say ; without any fear in the world — cheerfully: well, let them go. There was in the old times another kind of poisoned heretics that were called Donatists ; and these heretics went to their execution as they should have gone to some joUy recreation or banquet." — Latimer's Sermmis, p. 160. ^ He wrote to Uie king ou the 14th of June, in consequence of an exam ination at tho Tower; but that letter could not have been spoken of on the trial of the Carthusians. — See State Papers, Vol. I. p. 431. 360 Fisher and More. [Ca, DL had required a proraise that the letter should not be shown to any other person. The unwise old raan gave his word, but he did not observe it ; he sent copies both of what he had himself written and of the king's an swer to the Sion raonks,^ fiirnishing them at the same tirae with a copy of the book which he had writteii against the divorce, and two othei> books, written by Abel, the queen's confessor, and the Spanish ambaEsa- dor. Whether he was discovered to have held any other correspondence, or whether anything of an anal ogous kind was proved against More, I am unable to Treatment discovcr, Both he and Fisher had been and eonduct '1*1 > 1 1 1 of Fisher treated with greater indulgence than was in the Tower, usual wIth prisoncrs,^ Their own attendants had waited on them ; they were allowed to receive 1 " I had the confessor alone in very secret communication conceming certain letters of Mr. Fisher's, of which Father Reynolds made mention in his examination ; which the said Fisher promised the King's Grace that he never showed to any other man, neither would. The said confessor hath confessed to me that the said Fisher sent to him, to the said Keynolds, and to one other brother of them, the copy of his said letters directed to the King's Grace, and the copy of the king's answer also. He hath knowl edged to me also that the said Fisher sent unto them with the said copies a book of his, made in defence of the King's Grace's first marriage, and also Abel's book, and one other book made by the emperour's ambassador, as I suppose." — Bedyll to Cromwell: Suppression ofthe Monasteries, pp. 45, 46. 2 The accounts are consistent on this subject with a single exception. A letter is extant from Fisher, in which he complained of suffering from the cold and from want of clothes. This must have been an accident. More was evidently treated weU (see More's Life of Moi-e); and all the circumstances imply that they were allowed to communicate freely with their friends, and to receive whatever comforts their friends were pleased to send them. The official statements on this subject are too positive and too minute to admit of a doubt. Cromwell writes thus to Cassalis: " Car- ceribus maucipati tractabantur humanius atque mitius quam par fuisset pro eorum demeritis ; per Regem illis licebat proximorum coUoquio et con- Buetudine frui, Ii fuerant illis appositi prsescriptique ministri quos a vffl- clis immuiies antea fidos charosque habebant ; id cibi genus eaque CQU^i- menta et v^stitas eis concedebantur quae eorum habitudini ac tuendse sani- tati, ipsi consanguine!, nepotes atque affiues et amic} judicabaut esse magil Bccommoda." — State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 634. 1636.] Fisher and More. 361 visits from thefr relatives within the Tower walls, and to correspond with their families and friends,^ As a matter of course, under such circumstances, they must have expressed their opinions on the gjreat subject of the day; and those opinions were raade known throughout England, and, indeed, throughout Europe, Whether they did more than this, or whether they had ouly indirectly allowed their influence to be used against the government, must be left to conjecture. But the language of a document under the king's hand speaks of their having given some cause of provocation, of no common kind ; and this is confirmed cromweU's by Cromwell, who was once deeply attached agSt to More, " When they were in strait keep- ""¦"• ing," say the Instructions to the Bishop of Hereford, " having nevertheless the prison at their liberties, they ceased not both to practise an insurrection within the realm, and also to use all the devices to thera possible in outward parts, as well to defame and slander his Majesty, and his most virtuous doings and proceedings, as also to procure the impeachment and other destruc tion of his most royal person," ^ Cromwell speaks also of their having been engaged in definite schemes, the object of which was rebellion ; ^ and although we have here the ex parte statement of the government, and al though such a charge would have been held to be jus tified by a proof that they had spoken generally against the Act of Supremacy, It may be allowed to prove that so far they were really guilty ; and it Is equally cer- ' Mors's Ufe of More. 2 "Instructions given by the King's Majesty to the Right Reverend Father in God, his right trusty and weU-beloved counsellor the Bishop of Hereford, whom his Majesty at this time sendeth unto the Princes of Ger many." — Rolls House MS. • Sfcife Papers, Voi. VII. p. 635. 362 Fisher and More. [Ch,ix, tain that for these two men to have spoken against the act was to have lent encouragement to the party of in surrection, the most powerful which that party could have received. Thus, by another necessity, Fisher and More, at the beginning of May, were caUed upon for their submis sion. It was a hard case, for the bishop was sinking into the grave with age and sickness, and More had the highest reputation of any living man. But they had chosen to make themselves conspicuous as confess ors for Catholic truth ; thodgh prisoners in the Tower, they were in fact the most effectual champions of the papal claims ; and if their disobedience had been passed over, the statute could have been enforced against no one. The same course was followed as with the Carthu- May 7. slau monks. On the 7th of May a deputa- Adeputa^ . ,, , , . •' . '^ . tion of the tiou ot the couucil Waited on the prisoners m upon them the Tower, for an acknowledgment of the in the Tower. , ^, , - They refuse suprcmacv, 1 hcv rctuscd : r isher, after a to admit the ,.„,.''. •' ., ,, i v supremacy, briet hesitation, peremptorily ; More dechn ing to answer, but also giving an Indirect denial. After repeated efforts had been made to move them, and raade in vain, their own language, as in the pre ceding trials, furnished material for their indictment ; and the law officers of the crown who were to conduct the prosecution were the witnesses under whose evi dence they were to be tried. It was a strange pro ceeding, to be excused only, if excused at all, by the pressure of the times,' 1 Compare State Papers, Vol. I. pp. 431-436, with the Reports ofthe trials In the Baga de Secretis. Burnet has hastily stated that no Catholic was ever punished for merely denying the supremacy in official examinations. He has gone so far, indeed, as to call the assertions of Catholic writers to this effect "impudent falsehoods." Whether any Catholic vas prose- 1636.] Fisher and 'More. 868 Either the king or his rainisters, however, were slow in making up their rainds. With the Carthusians, nine days only were aUowed to elapse between the first examination and the final close at Tybom, The case against More and Fisher was no less clear than against the monks ; yet five weeks elapsed and the The govern government stUl hesitated. Perhaps they their trial. were influenced by the high position of the greater of fenders, — perhaps there was some fear of the world's opinion, which, though It might be indifferent to the sacrifice of a few obscure ecclesiastics, yet would surely not pass over lightly the execution of men who stood out with so marked preeminence. The councU board was unevenly composed, Cromwell, who divides with the king the responsibility of these prosecutions, had succeeded, not to the authority only of Wolsey, but to the hatred with which the Ignoble plebeian was regarded by the patricians who were compelled to stoop before him. Lord Exeter was already looking with a cold eye on the revolution ; and Norfolk and Suffolk, though zealous as the king himself for the Independence of England, yet had all the instincts of aristocratic con servatism. Even Cromwell may have desired the tri umph of winning over converts so distinguished, or may have shrunk from the odium which their deaths would bring upon him. Whatever was the cause of the delay, the privy council, wbo had been contented with a single examination of Haughton and his com panions, struggled with their present difficulty week cuted who had uot given other cause for suspicion, I do not know ; but it is quite certain that Haughton and Fisher were condemned solely on tho ground of their answers on these occasions, and that no other evidenc* was brought agaiust them. The government clearly preferred this eviden se ae the most direct and unanswerable, for in both those cases they might have ttniduced other witnesses bad they cared to do so. 364 Fisher named Cardinal. [On, DC, after week ; and it is possible that, except from an ex traneous impulse, some raode of escape raight have been discovered. But as the sentence of Clement sealed the fate«.of the Nun of Kent, so the unwisdom of his successor bore similai-ly fatal fruits, Paul III, had throughout the spring flattered Henry with expressions of sympathy, and had held out hopes of an approaching change of policy. He chose the present unfortunate juncture to expose the vanity of these professions ; and as an intimation of the course which he Intended to follow, he named the Bishop of Rochester, the one bishop who remained attached to Catherine's cause, a cardinal, Henry had appealed to a council, which the pope had promised to call ; and The pope Flshcr, of all Englishmen, was chosen as the names Fisher , , i • i a cardinal, persou whom the pope desired to represent the nation on its assembly. Even the very conclave at Rome were taken by surprise, and expressed them selves in no measured terms at the impolicy of this most foolish action, Cassalis, aware of the effect which the news would produce in England, hurried to such friends as he possessed in the conclave to protest against the appointment. The king, he said, would inevitably regard it as injurious to the realm and in sulting to himself; ^ and it was raadness at such a moment to trifle with Henry's displeasure. The Pope, alarraed-at the expressions which he waa told that CassaUs had used, sent in haste to urge him, 1 'Omnes Cardinales amicos nostros adivi; eisque demonstravi quam temere ac stulte fecerint in Roffensi in Cardinalem eligendo unde et poten- tissimum Regem et universum Regnum Angliie mirum in modum Itedunt et injuriEi afficiunt ; Roffensem enim virum esse gloriosum ut propter vanam gloriam in su& opinione contra Regem adhuo sit permansurus ; qu^ etiam de caus3. in carcere est et mort; coudemnatua." — Cassalis to CromweU; Siate Papers, Vol. VII. p. 604. 1836.] The Pope condescends to Falsehood. 365 if possible, to allay the storm. He was not ashamed to stoop to falsehood — but falsehood too awk- Cassaiis pwi. ward to deceive even the most willing credu- thep'opecon- Uty, He had thought, he said, of nothing falsehood. but to please Henry, He had been urged by the King of France to seek a reconciUation with England, and in sending a hat to an English bishop he had meant nothmg but a compliment. The general council would be held immediately ; and It was desirable, according to the constitution of the church, that a cardinal of every nation should be present. He had no especial reason for choosing the Bishop of Rochester, except that he had a high reputation for learning, and he imagined, therefore, that the king would be gratified,* " He Implored me," Cassalis wrote, " to make his excuses to his Majesty, and to assure him how deeply he regretted his mistake, especially when I assured him that the step was of a kind which admitted of no excuse," ^ Cassalis himself was afterwards disposed to believe that the appointment was made in thoughtlessness, and that the pope at the moment had really forgotten Fisher's position,^ But this could gain no credit in England, The news reached the government in the middle of June, and determined the fate of the unfor tunate bishop ; and with It the fate, also, of The appoint- his nobler companion. To the king, the Fisher-sfeto, pope's conduct appeared a defiance ; and as a defiance he accepted it. In vain Fisher declared that Be had I SiaU Papers, Vol. VII. p. 604. 2 Pontifex me vehementer rogavit, ut vias omnes tentare velim, quibui apud Regiam Majestatem excusatam hanc rem faciam, unde se plnrfmum dolere dixit, cum prajsertim ego affirmaverim rein esse ejlumodi nt oxcu- iitionem non lecipiat. — Cassalis to CromweU : Ibid. • Ibid. p. 616. 36b Fisher Tried and Sentenced. [Ch. ix not sought his ill-timed honours, and would not accept them. Neither his ignorance nor his refusal could avail him. Once more he was called upon to submit, with the intimation, that if he refused he must bear the consequences. His reply reraained what it had June 17. been ; and on the 17th of June he was taken * Westminster, dowu lu a boat to Westminster Hall, where the special coraraission was sitting. The proceedings at his trial are thus briefly summed up in the official record : — " Thursday after the feast of St, Barnabas, John Fisher was brought to the bar by Sir William And is con- Klngstou, Coustablc of the Tower, Pleads demned. ^^^ guUty, Veufre awarded. Verdict — guilty. Judgment as usual in cases of treason," ^ It was a swift sentence, and swiftly to be executed. Five days were allowed him to prepare himself; and the raore austere features of the penalty were remit ted with some show of pity. He was to die by the axe, Mercy was not to be hoped for. It does not seem to have been sought. He was past eighty. The earth on the edge of the grave was already crumbling under his feet; and death had little to make it fearful. When the last morning dawned, he dressed himself carefiiUy — as he said, for his marriage-day. The June 22. distance to Tower Hill was short. He was h^ld tn aWe to walk ; and he tottered out of the Tower mil. prison-gatcs, holding in his hand a closed volume of the New Testament, The crowd flocked about him, and he was heard to pray that, as this book had been his best comfort and companion, so in that 1 Astoria Martyrum Anglorum. 3 Report of the Trial of John Fisher: Baga de Secretis; Appendix to the Third Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Records. 1635.1 Execution of Fisher. 367 hour it might give hira some special strength, and speak tc him as from his Lord, Then opening it at a venture, he read : " This is life eternal, to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent," It was the answer to his prayer ; and he con tinued to repeat the words as he was led forward. On the scaffold he chanted the Te Deum, and then, after a few prayers, knelt down, and meekly laid his head upon 1 pillow where neither care nor fear nor sickness would ever vex It more. Many a spectacle of sorrow had been witnessed on that tragic spot, but never one raore sad than this ; never one more painful to think or speak of When a nation is in the throes of revo lution, wild spirits are abroad in the storm ; and poor human nature presses blindly forward with the burden which is laid upon it, tossing aside the obstacles In Its path with a recklessness which. In calmer hours, if would fear to contemplate, Sfr Thomas More followed, his fortunes linked In death as in life to those of his friend. He was left to the last — in the hope, perhaps, that the example might produce an effect which persuasion could not. But the example, if that was the object, worked to far other purpose. From More's high-tempered nature, such terrors fell harraless, as from enchanted armour. Death to him was but a passing from one country to another ; and he had all along anticipated that his prison was the antechamber of the scaffold. He had, indeed, taken no pains tci avoid it. The king, according to the un suspicious evidence of his daughter, Margaret Roper, had not accused him without cause of exciting a spirit of resistance. He had spent his time in encouraging CathoUcs to persevere to martyrdom for their faith. In his many conversations with herself, he had ex- 368 Sir Thomas More. [Ch, ix. pressed himself with all freedom, and to others he had doubtless spoken as plainly as to her,^ On the 7th of May he was examined by the same persons who examined Fisher ; and he was interro gated again and again in subsequent interviews. His humour did not allow hira to answer questions directly : he played with his catechists, and did not readily fur nish thera with materials for a charge. He had cor responded with Fisher in prison, on the conduct which he raeant to pursue. Some of these letters had leen burnt ; but others were in the hands of the govern ment, and would have been sufficient to sustain the prosecution, but they preferred his own words from June 26 ^^^ '^'''^^ W'^s. At length sufficient evidence Ataiebiii ^^^ obtained. On the 26th of June, a true miomas^"' l^ill was found against hira by the Grand ¦More. Jury of Middlesex ; and on the 1st of July the High Coraraission sat again in Westminster Hall, to try the raost illustrious prisoner who ever 'lis- Juiyi. tened to his sentence there.* He walked to the bar. frora the Tower — feebly, however, and with 1 If his opinions had been insufficient for his destruction, there was an influence at court which left no hope to him: the influence of one whose ways and doings were better known then than they have been known to her modern admirers. " On a time," writes his grandsou, "when he had questioned my aunt Roper of his wife and children, and the state of his house in his absence, he asked her at last how Queen Anne did. *In faith, father,' said she, ' never better. There is nothing else at the court but dancing and sporting.' ' Never better ? ' said he ; ' alas, Meg, alas, it pitieth me to remember unto what misery she will shortly come. These dances of hers will prove such dances that she will spurn our heads off hke footballs, but it will not be long ere her head will dance the like dance.' " -- More's Life of More, p. 244. 2 The composition of the commission is remarkable. When Fisher was tried. Lord Exeter sate upon it. On tbe trial of More, Lord Exeter was absent, but his place was taken by his cousin. Lord Montague, Regirald Pole's eldest brother, aud Lady Salisbuiy's son. WUlingly or unwillingly, the opposition nobles were made parHcipes criminis in both these execu tions. 1535.] Sir Tlwmas More. 369 a stick, for he was weak from long confinement. On appearing at the bar, a chair was brought for him, and he was allowed to sit. The indictment was then read by the attorney-general. It set forth that Sir Thomas More, traitorously imagining and attempting to deprive the king of his title as supreme Head of the Church, did, on the 7th of May, when examined before Thomas CromweU, the king's principal secretary, and divers other persons, whether he Would accept the king as Head on earth of the Church of England, pursuant to the statute, refuse to give a direct answer, hut repUed, " I wUl not meddle with any such matters, for I am fiiUy determined to serve God and to think upon His passion, and my passage out of this world," ^ He was then charged with having written to Fisher substance 1 mi r. 1- 1-1 1 oftheln- that " Ihe act or parhament was like a sword dictment witb two edges ; for if a man answered one way it would confound his soul, and if the other Way It would confound his body," ^ Finally and chiefly, he had spoken treasonable words in the Tower to Rich, the solicitor-general. Rich had endeavoured to persuade him, as Cranmer had endeavoured in his previous diffi culty at Lambeth, that it was his duty as a subject to obey the law of the land, " Supposing It was enacted by act of parliament," the solicitor-general had said, "that I, Richard Rich, should be king, and that it should be treason to deny It, what would be the offence if you. Sir Thomas More, were to say that I was kmg ? " More had answered that. In his conscience, he would be bound by the act of parliament, and would be 1 I take my account of the indictment from the government record. It is, therefore, their own statement of their own case. — Trial of Sir Thomaf More: Baga de Secretis, pouch 7, bundle 3. ^ Fisher had unhappUy used tliese words on his own exainination ; and the identity of language was held » proof of traitorous confederacy. vol. II. 24 370 Sir Thomas More. [Ch, ix obliged to accept Rich as king. He would put another case, however. " Suppose it should be enacted by parliament, quod Deus non esset Deus, and that oppos ing the act should be treason, if It were asked of him, Richard Rich, whether he would say Quod Deus non erat Deus, according to this statute, and if he were to say No, would he not offend ? " Rich had replied, " Certainly, because it is impossible, quod Deus mow esset Deus ; but why. Master More, can you not accept the king as chief Head of the Church of England, Just as you would that I should be made king. In which case you agree, that you would be obliged to acknowl edge rae as king ? " " To which More, persevering in his treasons, had answered to Rich, that the cases were not similar, because the king could be made by parliament and deprived by parliament ; ^ but in the first case the subject could not be obliged, because his consent could not be given for that in parliament," This was the substance of the indictment. As soon The chancel- as It was read, the lord chancellor rose, and lor urges him , i i . i i i , i to submit, told the prisoner that he saw how grievously he had offended the king ; It was not too late to ask for raercy, however, which his Majesty desired to show, " My lord," More replied, " I have great cause to He trusts, thank vour honour for vour courtesv, but I howBVGr to remain iJihif bescech Almlghtv God that I mav continue opinion till . ¦ i i t , , , tt- death. m the mind that 1 am m through His grace unto death," To the charges against him he pleaded " not guilty," and answered them at length. He could not say indeed that the facts were not true ; for although he denied that he had " practised " against the supremacy, he could not say that he had consented 1 If this was the constitulaoual theory, " divine right " was a Stuart lir tion. 1535,] Sir Thomas More. 371 to it, or that he ever would consent ; but like the Prior of the Charterhouse, he could not admit himself guilty when he had only obeyed his conscience. The jury retired to consider, and in a quarter of Thejuryflnd an hour returned with their verdict. The guuty. chancellor, after receiving it, put the usual question, what the prisoner could say in arrest of judgment. More replied, but replied with a plea which It was impossible to recognise, by denouncing the statute under which he was tried, and insisting on the obliga tion of obedience to the see of Rome, Thus the sen tence was inevitable. It was pronounced In the ordi nary form ; but the usual punishment for treason waS commuted, as it had been with Fisher, to death upon the scaffold ; and this last favour was coraraunicated as a special instance of the royal clemency, More's wit was always ready, " God forbid," he answered, "that the king should show any more such mercy unto any of my friends ; and God bless all my pos terity from such pardons," ^ The pageant was over, for such a trial was Uttle more. As the procession formed to lead back the " condemned traitor " to the Tower, the commissioners once more adjured him to have pity on himself, and offered to reopen the court if he would reconsider his resolution. More smiled, and replied only a few words of gracefiil fareweU, " My lords,'-' he said, " I have but to say that, like as the blessed Apostle St, Paul was present msiast 1 1 1 /> 1 n 1 1 ¦ yords to the at the death of the martyr Stephen, keeping eonunission. tiiefr clothes that stoned him, and yet they be now both saints in heaven, and there shall continue friends for ever, so I trust, and shaU therefore pray, that 1 More'B Ufe of More, p. 271 372 Sir Thomas More. [Cri. Vk. though your lordsiilps have been on earth my judges, yet we may hereafter meet in heaven together to our everlasting salvation ; and God preserve you all, espe cially my sovereign lord the king, and grant hira faith ful counciUors," He then left the hall, and to spare hira the exertion Ui returns of the Walk he was allowed to return by to the Tower, .^a^er. At the Tower stairs one of those scenes occurred which have cast so rich a pathos round the closing story of this illustrious man, " When Sir Thoraas," writes the grandson, " was now come to the ¦Tower wharf, his best beloved child, my aunt Roper, Margaret dcsIrous to SCO her father, whom she feared ^P^"^- she should never see In this world after, to have his last blessing, gave there attendance to meet him ; whom as soon as she had espied she ran hastily unto him, and without consideration or care for herself, passing through the midst of the throng and guard of raen, who with bills and halberts compassed him round, there openly in the sight of thera all embraced him, and took hira about the neck and kissed him, not able to say any word but ' Oh, ray father! oh, my father! ' He, liking well her most natural and dear affection towards hira, gave her his fatherly blessing ; telling her that whatsoever he should suffer, though he were innocent, yet it was not without the will of God ; and that He knew well enough all the secrets of her heart, counselling her to accommodate her will to God's blessed pleasure, and to be patient for his loss, " She was no sooner parted from hira, and had gore scarce ten . steps, when she, not satisfied with the former farewell, like one who had forgot herself, rav ished with the entire love bf so worthy a father, having neither respect to herself nor to the press of people 1685.] Sir Thomas More. 378 about him, suddenly turned back, and ran hastily to him, and took him about the neck and divers tiraes together kissed him ; whereat he spoke not a word, but carrying still his gravity, tears fell also from his eyes ; yea, there were very few in all the troop who could refrain hereat from weeping, no, not the guard themselves. Yet at last with a full heart she was severed from him, at which time another of our woraen embraced him ; and my aunt's maid Dorothy Collis did the like, of whom he said after, it was homely but veiy lovingly done. All these and also my grandfather witnessed that they smelt a most odoriferous smell to come from him, according to that of Isaac, ' The scent of my son is as the scent of a field which the Lord has blessed,' " 1 More's relation with this daughter forms the most beautiful feature in his history. His letters The last days toher in early Iffe are of unequalled grace, ™ tbe Tower. and she was perhaps the only person whom he very deeply loved. He never saw her again. The four days which remained to him he spent in prayer and in severe bodily discipline. On the night of the 5th of July, although he did not know the time which had been fixed for his execution, yet with an instinctive feeling that it was near, he sent her his hair shirt and whip, as having no more need for them, with a parting Llessing of affection. He then lay down and slept quietly. At daybreak lie was awoke by the entrance of Sir Thomas. Pope, who had come to confirra his anticipations, and to teU him it was the king's pleasure that he should suffer at nine o'clock that morning. He received the news with utter composure, " I am much bounden to the 1 More's Life of More, pp. 276, 277. 374 Sir Thomas More. [Ch. ix, king,'' he said, "for the benefits and nonours he has bestowed upon me ; and so help me God, most of all am I bounden to him that it pleaseth his Majesty to rid rae so shortly out of the miseries of this present world," Pope told him the king desired that he would not " use many words on the scaffold," " Mr, Pope," he answered, " you do well to give me warning, for other wise I had purposed somewhat to have spoken ; but no matter wherewith his Grace should have cause to be offended, Howbeit, whatever I intended, I shaU obey his Highness's command," He afterwards discussed the arrangements for his funeral, at which he begged that his famUy might be present ; and when all was settled. Pope rose to leave him. He was an old friend. He took More's hand and wrung it, and quite overcome, burst into tears, " Quiet yourself, Mr, Pope," More said, " and be not discomforted, for I trust we shall once see each other full merrily, when we shall live and love together in eternal bliss," ^ As soon as he was alone he dressed in his most elaborate costume. It was for the benefit, he said, of the executioner who was to do him so great a service. Sir William Kingston reraonstrated, and with some difficulty induced him to put on a plainer suit ; but that his intended liberality should not fail, he sent the man a gold angel in compensation, " as a token that he maliced him nothing, but rather loved him ex tremely," 1 " And, further to put him from his melancholy. Sir Thomas More did take his urinal, and cast his water, saying merrily, ' I see no danger but the man that owns this water may live longer, if it please the king.' " — More'i Ufe, p. 233. I cannot allow myself to suppress a trait so eminently char< •cteristic. 16J6.] Sir Thomas More. 375 " So about nine of the clock he was brought by the Lieutenant out of the Tower, his beard being jj^ ^^„^ long, which fashion he had never before used, **'* '^''^™' his face pale and lean, carrying in his hands a red cross, casting his eyes often towards heaven," He had been unpopular as a judge, and one or two per sons in the crowd were insolent to him ; but the dis tance was short and soon over, as all else was nearly over now. The scaffold had been awkwardly erected, and shook as he placed his foot upon the ladder, " See onthescaf- me safe up," he said to Kingston, " For my **''*• coming down I can shift for myself," He began to speak to the people, but tbe sheriff begged him not to proceed, and he contented himself with asking for their prayers, and desiring them to bear witness for him that he died in the faith of the holy Catholic church, and a faithful servant of God and the king. He then repeated the Miserere psalm on his knees ; and when he had ended and bad risen, the executioner, with an emotion which promised ill for the manner in which his part in the tragedy would be accomplished, begged his forgiveness. More kissed him, " Thou art to do me the greatest benefit that I can receive," he said. " Pluck up thy spirit, raan, and be not afraid to do thine ofiice. My neck is very short. Take heed therefore that thou strike not awry for saving of thine honesty," The executioner offered to tie his eyes, "I ¦will cover them rayself," he said; andk binding them in a cloth which he had brought with him, he knelt and laid his head upon the block. The fatal stroke was about to fall, when he signed for a moment's delay whUe he moved aside his beard, " Pity that should be cut," he murmured, " that has not commit- 376 Sir Thomas More. [Ch, ix ted treason," With which strange words, the strangest perhaps ever uttered at such a time, the Ups raost famous through Europe for eloquence and wisdora closed for ever, " So," concludes his biographer, " with alacrity and spiritual joy he received the fatal axe, which no sooner had severed the head from the body, but his soul was carried by angels into everlasting glory, where a crown of martyrdora was placed upon hira which can never fade nor decay ; and then he found those words true which he had often spoken, that a man may lose his head and have no harm," ^ This was the execution of Sir Thomas More, an act which was sounded out Into the far corners of the earth, and was the world's wonder as well for the circum stances under which it was perpetrated, as for the preternatural composure with which it was borne. Something of his calmness may have been due to his natural teraperaraent, something to an unaffected weari ness of a world which in his eyes was plunging Into the ruin of the latter days. But those fair hues of sunny cheerfulness caught their colour frora the sim plicity of his faith ; and never was there a Christian's victory over death more grandly evidenced than in that last scene lighted with Its lambent huraour. History wUl rather dwell upon ' the incidents of the execution than attempt a sentence upon those who willed that it should be. It was at once most plteotts and raost inevitable. The hour of retribution had corae at length, when at the hands of the Roman church was to be required all the righteous blood which it had shed, from the blood of Raymond of Toulouse to the blood of the last victim who had blackened into 1 More's Ufe of More, p. 287. 1635.] Effect upon Europe. 877 ashes at Smithfield, The voices crying underneath the altar had been heard upon the throne of the Most High, and woe to the generation of which the dark account had been demanded. In whatever light, however, we may now think of these things, the effect in Europe was instan- j,,, ^^^^^^ ^ taneous and electrical. The irritation which «on8to'°"" had accompanied the excomraunication by ^""'p*- Clement had died away In tbe difliculty of executing the censures. The papal party had endeavoured to persuade themselves that the king was acting under a passing caprice. They had believed that the body of the people remained essentially Catholic ; and they had trusted to time, to discontent, to mutiny, to the conse quences of what they chose to regard as the mere in dulgence of criminal passion, to bring Henry to his senses. To threats and anathemas, therefore, had again succeeded fair words and promises, and intrigues and flatteries ; and the pope and his advisers, so long accustomed themselves to promise and to mean nothing, to fulminate censures in forra, and to treat human Iffe as a foolish farce upon the stage, had dreamed that others were like themselves. In the rough awakening out of their delusion, as with a stroke of lightning, popes, cardinals, kings, eraperors, ara bassadors, were startled into seriousness ; and, the dip lomatic meshwork all rent and broken, they fell at once each into their places, with a sense suddenly forced upon them that it was no child's play any longer. The King of England was in earnest, it seemed. The assumption of the supremacy was a fixed purpose, which he was prepared to make a ques tion of life and death ; and with this rtwolutlon they must thenceforward make their account 378 Effect upon Europe. [Ch, nt On the 1st of June, Cassalis wrote ^ from Rome The news ar- that the Frcuch ambassador had received a Rome of the letter concemlug certain friars who had been Carthusians, put to death In England for denying the king to be Head of the Church, The letter had been read ill the consistory, and was reported to be written in a tone of the deepest comraiseration. There had been much conversation about It, the French bishops having been louder than any in their denunciations; and the form of the execution was described as having been most barbarous. Some of the cardinals had said that they envied the monks their deaths In such a cause, ^and wished that they had been with thera, " I desired my informant," Cassalis said, " to suggest to these cardinals, that, if they were so anxious on the subject, they had better pay a visit to England," And he concluded, in cipher, " I cannot tell very well what to think of the French, An Italian told me he had heard the Most Christian king himself say, that al though he was obUged to press upon the pope the requests of the king of England, yet that these re quests were preposterous, and could not be granted," The deaths of a few poor monks would soon have Atid of Fish- been forgiven; the execution of Fisher first At* whicli ^^ the pope win really revealed the truth. No sooner was make of i -i i i p xx i ¦ moreac- the temblc reply of Henrv to his promotion count than , -,• ^ ii ,i the martyr- to the cardiualatc made known than the con- Becket. clave was instantly summoned. Cardinal Tournon described the scene upon the scaffold in lan* guage which moved all his audience to tears,''' The pope, in a paroxysm of anger, declared that if he had seen his own nephews murdered in his presence, it 1 State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 606. s Cassalis to CromweU: SiaU Papers, Vol. VIT pp. 620, 621. 1535.] Effect upon Europe. 379 would not have so much affected him ; and Cassalis said he heard, frora good authority, that they would do their worst, and intended to raake the Bishop oi Rochester's death of more account than that of the martyr St, Thomas,^ Nor was the anger or the surprise confined to Rome, Through England, through France, through au Europe Flanders, even araong the Protestants of "^^Iddis^ Germany, there rose a siraultaneous outcry p'«^""- of astonishment. Rumour flew to and fro with a thousand falsehoods; and the unfortunate leaven of the Anne Boleyn marriage told fatally to destroy that appearance of probity of motive so indispensable to the defence of the government. Even Fran- irancis re- , 11 1 monstrates, CIS I, forgot his caution, and dared to reraon- and recom- ° _ . , , , mends that strate. He wrote to entreat his good brother in future to content himself for the future with ban- otfenders , 1 . , ro 1 1 -1 should be ishmg such offenders, and sparing the extrem- banished. ity of his penalties. Unfortunately, the question which was at issue was European as weU as English ; and every exile who was driven from England would have become, like Reginald Pole, a missionary of a holy war against the infidel king. Whatever else raight have been possible, banishment was more perilous than pardon. But the indignation was so general and so serious, that Henry thought it well to offer an explana- Henry con. descends to tion of his conduct, both at home and abroad, explanation With his own people he communicated through the lay authorities, not choosing to trust himself ''on thia occasion to the clergy. The magistrates at the quarter sessions were directed " to declare to the people the treasons committed by the late Bishop of Rochester 1 State Papers, Vol. VII. pp. 620, 621. Effect upon Europe. [Gh. ix and Sir Thomas More ; who thereby, and by divers secret practices, of their malicious minds intended to serainate, engender, and breed a most raischievous and seditious opinion, not only to their own confusion, but also of divers others, who have lately suffered execu tion according to their demerits," ^ To Francis, Crom well instructed Gardiner, who was ambassador in Paris, to reply very haughtily. The English government, he ffis message ^^'^1 '^^^ acted OU clcar proof of treason ; to Trancis. treasou SO manifest, and tending so clearly to the total destruction of the commonwealth of the realm, that the condemned persons " were well worthy, if they had a thousand lives, to have suffered ten times a more terrible death and execution than any of them He had did Suffer," The laws which the king laws on good had made were " not without substantial tiai grounds, grouuds ; " but had been passed "by great and mature advice, counsel, and deliberation of the whole policy of the realm, and " were " indeed no new laws, but of great antiquity, now renovate and renewed in respect to the common weal of the same realra," With respect to the letter of the King of France, And is much Gai diner was to say, it was " not a little to that he hls Hlghuess's marvel that the French king should be , ,=' ,,,,,», advised M would cver counsel or ad-vise him, rt m case traitors, giv- hereafter any such like offenders should hap- creased op- pen to be In the reahn, that he should rather portunity to , , , , , . , . , Injure him. bauish them, than in such wise execute tnem, . , , supposing it to be neither the office of a friend nor a brother, that he would counsel the King's High- 1 Strype's Memor. Eccles., Vol, I., Appendix, p. 211. These words are curious as directly attributing the conduct of the monks to the influence U More and Fisher. 1635.] Effect upon Europe. 381 ness to banish his traitors Into strange parts, where they might have good occasion, time, place, and opportunity to work their feats of treason and conspiracy the better against the king and this his realm. In which part," concluded Cromwell, " ye shall soraewhat engrieve the matter, after such sort that it raay well appear to the French king that the King's Highness may take those his counsels both strangely and unkindly," ^ With the German princes Henry was scarcely less imperious ; ^ and it Is noteworthy that the Hiseiaborat* most elaborate defence which he condescended Cassaiis in- , , , 1-1 c-^. r\ tended for to make is that which was sent to Sir Greg- the pope. ory CassaUs, to be laid before the pope. He chose that the Roman court should understand distinctly the grounds on which he had acted ; and this despatch (which was written by Cromwell) shows raore clearly ' CromweU to Gardiner: Burnet's Collectanea, pp. 460, 481. 2 " If the Duke of Saxe, or any of the other princes, shall in their con ference with him, expostulate or show themselves displeased with such in formation as they may percase have had, touching the attainder and exe- cutiou of the late Bishop of Rochester and Sir Thomas More, the said Bishop shall thereunto answer and say, that the same were by order of his lawa found to be false traitora and rebels to his Highness and his crown. The order of whose attainder with the causes thereof, he may declare unto them, saying that in case the King's Highness should know that they would conceive any sinister opinion of his Grace, for the doing of any act within his realm, his Grace should not onlv have cause to think they used not with him the office of friendship, which would not by any report conceive other opinion of so noble a prince as lie is than were both just and honour able; but also to note in them less constancy of judgment than he verily thinketh they have. And hereupon the said Bishop shall dissuade them ftom giving credit to any such report, as whereby they shall oifend God in the judgment of evil upon their neighbour; and cause his Majesty to muse that they would of him, being a prince of honour, conceive any other opinion than his honour and friendship towards them doth require. Setting this forth with such a stomach and courage as they may not only perceive the false traitorous dealings of the said persons ; but consider what folly it were in them upon light report to judge of another prince's proceedings otherwise than they would a foreign prince should judge of then'. " — In- •truciions to the Bishop of Hereford by the Kinsf's Highness: Rolls Boost 382 Letter to Cassalis, [Ch, nt than any other state paper which remains to us, the Ught in which the reforraing party desired their conduct to be regarded. It was written In reply to the letter In which Cassa lis reported the frritation of the Roraan court, and enters into the whole ground of complaint against More and Fisher, " I have signified," wrote Cromwell, " to the King's He cannot Hlghncss the purport of your late letters, and Bufflciently °, . K , . i • , marvel at the as they Contained many things which were pope's dis- - I'-iyr- 1 11 pleasure. Very welcomc to his Majesty, so he could not sufficiently raarvel that the pope should have conceived so great offence at the deaths of the Bishop of Roches ter and Sir Thomas More, And albeit his Majesty is not bound to render account of his actions except to God, whora in thought and deed he is ever desirous to obey; nevertheless that his royal narae may not be evil spoken of by malicious tongues, from want of knowledge of the truth, I wUl tell you briefly what has been done in this matter, " After that his Majesty, with the favour and assist ance of Almighty God, had brought his cause to an end, by the consent and authority of unprejudiced per sons of the most approved learning in Christendom, — and after he had confirmed it by the very rule of truth, these men, who had looked to see a far different con clusion, finding now no hopes of disturbing the settle ment thus made, began to meditate other purposes, Fisher and And whcu our good king, according to liis obstructed princely duty, was devising measures for the which'^h™' quiet and good order of the realm, and for dTced^n'to t^® correction of manners now largely fallen the realm, to decay, tbls, SO great a benefit to the com monweal, they did, so far as in them lay, endeavour, 1536.1 Letter to Cassalis. 383 though without effect, under pretence of dissembled honesty, to obstruct and oppose. Manifest proofs of their wicked designs were in the hands of the King's Grace ; but his Majesty consented rather to pass over their offence without notice, hoping to recall them to a better mind, as having before been in some good esti mation with him, " But they in whom ambition, love of self, and a peculiar conceit of wisdom had bred another .j^jy ^^^ persuasion, obstinately abused this kindness m^uresta* of their most noble prince. And when on a tSf^ghpar certain day there was order issued for the as- '^»™«"''' sembly of the great council of the realra, they made secret inqufry to learn the raeasures which would there be treated of. Whatsoever they discovered or conject ured, forthwith they debated In private council among themselves, arriving upon each point at conclusions other than those which the Interests of the realm did requfre ; and they fortified those conclusions with such array of arguments and reasons, that with no great labour the ignorant people raight have been danger ously deceived, "At length knowing that they had Incurred the idng's displeasure, and fearing lest they might fail of accomplishing their purposes, they chose out persons on whose courage, readiness, and devotion to them selves they could depend ; and taking these men into their councUs, they fed them with the poison which they had conceived, forgetting their allegiance to their king, and their duty to their country,^ And had or. Thus were their seditious opinions scattered feuTop^, over the country. And when his Highness "o''unSy*''° 1 It wiu be observed that many important faots are aUuded to in tlu'l ktter, of which we have no other knowledjje. 384 Letter to Cassalis. [Ch, IX. began to trace this impious conspiracy to its source, Sir Thomas More and the Bishop of Rochester were found to be the undoubted authors of the same ; and their guilt was proved against them by the eri dence of their own handwrit, and the confessions of their own Ups, For these causes, therefore, and for many others of Uke kind, our most gracious sovereign was compelled to imprison them as rebeUious subjects, as disturbers of the public peace, and as movers of se dition and turault. Nor was It possible for him to do other than punish them, unless, after thefr crimes had been detected, he had so far forgotten his duty as to leave the contagion to spread unchecked, to the utter destruction of the nation. They were in consequence They had lu thrown luto the Tower, where, however, their consequence 0-1-00 o 1 1 • been com- treatment was tar ditrerent trom what their Tower, where demerits had deserved ; they were aUowed treated with the socIcty of thefr frleuds ; their own ser- the utmoat 1 , 1 1 1 kindness. vants were admitted to attend upon them, and they received all such indulgences In food and dress as their families desired. Clemency, however, pro duced no effect on persons in whom duty and alle giance had given place to treason and raalice. They Kindness chosc i'ather to persist in thefr wicked courses ever, pro- thaii to raake trial by repentance of the king's duced no ef- n. , , , - • tect; they gooduess, bor after that certain laws nacl aedtoob- been decreed by authority of parliament, and struct the . 1 , , , 1 1 • 1 • 1 1 goTernment; had becu by the whole nation admitted and and had - 1. o -i 1 1 therefore acccptod as expedient for the realm, and been tried , , ,. . , - o -i and con- agreeable to true religion, they alone refused demned by f , 111,1 the ordinary their couseut to thcsc luws, hopiug that some- laws of tbe , , , , , , , , , realm. thing might occur to sustain them in their impiety ; and whUe professuig to have left all care- and thought for human things, they were considering by 1535.] Beply of the Pope. 385 what arguments, in furtherance of their seditious pur poses, they might, to the comraon hurt, elude, refute, and disturb the said laws, " Of this their treason there are proofs extant — let ters written, when ink failed them, with chalk or char coal, and passed secretly from one to the other. Our most merciful king could therefore no longer tolerate their grievous faults. He allowed thera to be tried by process of ordinary law. They were found guilty of high treason, and sentenced to death. Their punish ment was milder than that which the law prescribed, or which -their crimes had deserved ; and many -per sons have by this example been brought- to a better mind,"^ To CromweU evidently the case appeared so clear as to require no apology. To modern writers it has appeared so clear as to admit of none. The value of the defence turns upon the point of the actual danger to the state, and the extent to which the conduct of the sufferers imperilled the progress of the Reformation, As written for the eyes of the pope and cardinals, however, such a letter could be understood only as daring them to do their worst. It ignored the very existence of such rules of judgment as the heads of the Roman church would alone acknowledge, and rep resented the story as it appeared from the position which England had assumed on its revolt from its old allegiance. There were no more false efforts at conciliation, and open war thenceforth appeared to be the only ,^^^ ^^pjy ,, possible relation between the papacy and *«?»?"• Henry VIII, Paul III, replied, or designed to reply, with his far-famed bull of interdict and deposition, 1 CromweU to Casealis: StaU Papers, Vol, VH. p. 633, VOL. II. 25 686 Bull of Deposition. [Ch. ix which, though reserved at the raoment in deference to Francis of France, and not issued till three years later, was composed in the first burst of his displeasure,' The substance of his volurainous anatheraas may be thus briefly epitoraized. The pope, quoting and applying to hiraself the words The bull of of Jeremiah, "Behold, I have set thee over deposition, uatlous and kingdoras, that thou mayest root out and destroy, and that thou mayest plant and buUd again," addressed Henry as a disobedient vassal. Al ready lying under the censures of the churcli, he had gone on to heap crime on crime ; and therefore, a spe cific nuraber of days being aUowed him to repent and make his subraission, at the expiration of this period of respite the following sentence was to take effect. The king, with all who abetted hira in his crimes, was pronounced accursed — cut off from the body of Christ, to perish. When he died, his body should lie without burial ; his soul, blasted with anathema, should be cast into hell for ever, . The lands of his sub jects who remained faithful to hira were laid under an interdict : their children were disinherited, thefr mar riages illegal, their wills invaUd ; only by one condition could they escape thefr fate — by Instant rebellion against the apostate prince. All officers of the crown were absolved fi-ora their oaths ; all subjects, secular or 1 Paul himself said that it was reserved at the intercession of the Princes of Europe. Intercession is too mild a word for the species of interference which was exerted. The pope sent a draft ofthe intended bull to France; and the king having no disposition to countenance exaggerated views of papal authority, spoke of it as impvdentissimum quoddam breve ; and sad that he must send the Cardinal of Lorraine to Kome, to warn his Holiness that his pretence of setting himself above princes could by no means be allowed; by such impotent threats he raight not only do no good, but he would make himself a laughing-stock to all the world. — Christophel Mount to Henry VHI. : State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 628 1536.] Bull of Deposition. 387 ecclesiastic, from their allegiance. The entire nation, under penalty of excommunication, was commanded no longer to acknowledge Henry as their sovereign, ^ No true son of the church should hold intercourse with him or his adherents. They must neither trade with them, speak with them, nor give them food. The clergy, learing behind a few of their number to baptize the new-bom infants, were to withdraw from the accursed land, and return no raore till it had subraitted. If the king, trusting to force, persevered in his iniquity, the lords and commons of England, dukes, marquises, earls, and all other persons, were required, under the same penalty of excommunication, to expel him from the throne ; and the Christian princes of Europe were caUed on to show their fideUty to the Holy See, by aiding in BO godly a work. In conclusion, as the king had coraraanded his clergy to preach against the pope In their churches, so the pope commanded them to retaliate upon the king, and with bell, book, and candle declare him cursed. This was loud thunder ; nor, when abetted by Irish massacres and English treasons, was It altogether im potent. If Henry's conceptions of the royal suprem acy were something imperious, the papal supremacy was not more modest in its self-assertion ; and the language of Paul III, went far to justify the rough measures by which his menaces were parried. If any misgiving had remained in the king's mind on the legit imacy of the course which he had pursued, the last trace of it must have been obliterated by the perusal of this preposterous bombast. His sub excommunicationis poena mandamus ut ab ejusdem Henrici fegis, suorumque officialium judicium et magistratuum quorumcunque obedientil, penitus et omnino recedant, nee illos in superiores recognos- •ant neque illorum mandatis obtemperent. — BuU of Pope Paul against Heniy VIU. 388 Intrigues of Francis in Germany, [Ch.ix For the moment, as I said, the bull was susj)ended Peril of through the Interference of Francis. But position. Francis remained in communion with the See of Rome : Francis was at that moment labouring to persuade the Lutheran states in Germany to return to comraunion with it : and Henry knew, that, although in their hearts the European powers raight estimate the pope's pretences at their true value, yet the bull of ex communication might furnish a convenient and danger ous pretext against him in the event of a Catholic com bination. His position was full of peril ; and in spite of himself, he was driven once raore to seek for an alli ance araong the foreign Protestants, before the French intrigues should finaUy anticipate him. That he really might be too late appeared an imme- intriguceof diate Ukellhood, The quarrel between the In Germany. Lutlieraus and the followers of Zwingli, the Anabaptist anarchy and the increasing confusion throughout the Protestant states, had so weighed on Luther's spirit that he was looking for the end of all things and the coming of Christ ; and although Luther hiraself never quailed, too raany " raurmurers in the wilderness " were looking wistfully back into Egypt, The French king, availing himself skilfully of the turn ing tide, had sent the Bishop of Paris to the courts of Saxony and Bavaria, in the beginning of August, to feel his way towards a reconciliation ; and his efforts had been attended with remarkable success. The bishop had been in communication with Me- Probabiiity lanctbou and many of the leading Lutheran oimitkmof theologians upon the terms on which they ins wi'th the would rctum to the church. The Protestant Be«of Home, (jiylncs had drawn up a series of articles, the first of which was a profession of readiness to recog* 1636.J Intrigues of Francis in Germany. 389 nise the authority of the pope ; ^ accompanying this statement with a declaration that they would accept any terms not plainly unjust and irapious. These arti cles were transmitted to Paris, and again retransmitted to Germany, with every prospect of a mutually satis factory result ; and Melancthon was waiting only tUl the bishop could accompany hira, to go in person to Paris, and consult with the Sorbonne,^ This momentary (for it was only momentary) weak ness of the German Protestants was in part of which owing to their want of confidence in Henry f'^^ 'tjl,, Vni,3 The king had leamt to entertain a """'«¦ respect for the foreign Reformers, far unlike the repug nance of earlier years ; but the prospect of an aUiance with them had hitherto been too rauch used by him as a weapon with which to menace the Catholic powers, whose friendship he had not concealed that he would prefer. The Protestant princes had shrunk therefore, 1 The Venetian Ambassador told Mount that the first article stood thus, " Admittitur Protestas Pontificis Maximi absolute ; " to which Mount says he answered, " Hoc Latinum magis sapit Sorbonam Parisiensem quam Witenbergensem Minervam." Du Bellay afterwards said that the saving clause was attached to it, " Modo secundum verbum Dei omnia judicet; " and that this had been added at the desire of the French king ; which Mount did not believe — and indeed found great difficulty in discovjering any credible account of what was really taking place, beyond the fact that the Lutherans were so anxious for an agreement, that they were walking with open eyes into a net which would strangle them. — See State Papers, Vol. VII. p. 630, &c. 2 Ibid. ' Ego colendissime Patrone (si scribere licet quod sentio) non nihil no- cere puto amicitiae ineundse et confirmandse inter serenissimum Regem nos trum et Principes Germanos, nimiam serenissimi Eegis nostri p^dentiam. Germanorum animi tales sunt ut apertam et simplicem amicitiaih colant et ii • 1 Ti/r • the Bishop of the s rench emissaries, (Jhnstopher Mount, in Hereford to I'd 1 -ri T-»»i o counteract August, and in September, Fox, Bishop of the French. Hereford, were despatched to warn the Lutheran princes against thefr Intrigues, and to point out the course which the interests of Northern Europe in the existing conjuncture required. The bishop's instructions were drawn by the king. He was to proceed dfrect to the court of Saxony, and, after presenting his letters of credit, was to address the elector to the following ef fect: " Besides and beyond the love, amity, and friendship which noble blood and progeny had carnally Henry's me« caused and continued in the heart of the gif^torof' King's Highness towards' the said duke and ^™"y- his progenitors, and besides that kindness also which of late by mutual communication of gratuities had been not a little augmented and increased between them, there was also stirred up In the h^rt of the King's Highness a spiritual love and favour toward? the said duke and his virtuous intents and proceedings , 1 This was Lord Burleigh's word for the constitution of the Engliah Church. 392 England and Germany. [Ch, ix. for that the said duke persisted and continued in his most virtuous mind to set forth, maintain, and defend the sincere teaching of the gospel and the perfect true He desires understanding of the word of God, In that irithother°° matter the King's Highness, also illuminated haTCtho''"' with the same spirit of truth, and wholly ad- athearTto ^^^^ ^""^ dedicate to the advancement thereof, middle way" ^^^ emploj'-ed great pain and travail to bring cormng't^ the sarae to the knowledge of his people and God's word, gu^jjectg^ Intending also further and further to proceed therein, as his Grace by good consultation should perceive might tend to the augmentation of the glory of God and the true knowledge of his word. His said Majesty was of such sincere meaning in the advancing [hereof] as his Grace would neither headily, without good advisement, and consultation, and con ference with his friends, go in any part beyond the said truth, ne for any respect tarry or stay on this side the truth, but would proceed in the right straight mean way assuredly agreed upon. He had known of cer tainty divers who by their immoderate zeal or the excessive appetite to novelties had from darkness pro ceeded to much more darkness, wherein the Anabajitlsts and sacramentarians were guUty ; so by secret report he September, had been advertised, that upon private com- that the muulcatlons and conferences, the learned raen are again in- there [in Gerraany] had in certain points and Bome ; and articles yielded and relented from their first he deeiree to . , , n , . i know their asscveration ; by reason whereof it was much tions. doubted whether by other degrees they raight be dissuaded in some of the rest. The King's Highness therefore, being very desirous to know the truth therein, and to be ascertained in what points and articles the learned men there were so assuredly and constantly 1535.] England and Germany. 393 resolved as by no persuasion of raan they could be turned frora the sarae, had sent the Bishop of Here ford to the said duke, desiring and praying hira in respect of the preraises to entertain the said bishop friendly and familiarly concerning the matter aforesaid, as the rautual love carnally, and the zeal of both princes to the increase of the glory of God spiritually, did require," ^ The bishop was then to speak of the council, the asserabling of which he understood that the He dissuades German princes so much desired. He was "¦'=''"°'"'- to dissuade them frora pressing it, to the extent of his abi'Ity, They would find themselves opposed inevita bly in all essential matters by the pope, the emperor, and the French king, whose factions united would out number and outvote them ; and in the existing state of Europe, a general council would only compromise their position and embarrass tlieir movements. If, however, notwithstanding his remonstrances, jntifa the princes persisted in their wish, then the ^^^t^^t *" bishop was to urge thera to corae to some un- ^ a°comm*on derstanding with England on the resolutions i""*^"^"*' which they desired to raaintain. Let them ^"e'»'"i. communicate to the English bishops such points " as they would stick to without relenting ; " and the two countries, " standing together, would be so rauch stron ger to withstand their adversaries," Without definitely promising to sign the Confession of Augsburg, Henry held out strong hopes that he might sign tiiat Confes sion, if they would send representatives to London to discuss the articles of it with hiraself,^ The bishop was 1 Instructions to the Bishop of Hereford: Rolls Bouse MS. . ' In case they shall require that the King's Majesty shall receive tbe whole confession of Germany as it is imprinted, the bishop shall say that when the King's Highness shall have seen and perused the articles of tha 394 England and Germany. [Ch, IX. to apologize for any previous slackness on the king's part The bishop In hls comraunlcatlons with the elector, and giM for'^au "" to express his hopes, that for the fiiture their ness,°°° relations might be those of cordial unanimity. He was especially to warn the elector to beware of re admitting the papal supremacy under any pretext. The English had shaken off the pope, " provoked thereunto in such wise as would have provoked them rath'sr to have expelled him from them by wrong, than to suffer hira so to oppress thera with injuries," If in And to con- Germany they " opened the great gate " to fresh warn- let him In again, he would rebuUd " the for- the pope. tresses that were thrown down, and by little and little bring aU to the former estate again." FinaUy, with respect to the councU — if a councU there was to be — they must take care that it was held in a place indifferent, where truth raight be heard or spoken ; " considering that else in a council, were not the remedy that aU good men sought, but the mischief that aU good raen did abhor." These advances, consented to by Henry, were the act of Cromwell, and were designed as the commence ment of a Foedus Evangelicum — a league of the great Reforming nations of Europe. It was a grand scheme, and history can never cease to regret that it was grasped at with too faint a hand. The bishop suc ceeded in neutralizing partially the scheming of the French, partially In attracting the sympathies of the league, and shall perceive that there is in it contained none other articles tut such as may be agreeable with the Gospel, and such as his Highness ought and conveniently may maintain, it is not to be doubted, and alw, I durst boldly afiirm," the said bishop shall say, " that the King's High ness will enter the same [league]." But it shall be necessary for the saii duke and the princes confederate to send to the King's Highness such per- ¦onages as m'ght devise, conclude, and condescend in every article. — In- ¦tructions to the Bishop of Hereford ; RoUs House MS 1535.] England and Germany. 395 German powers towards England ; but the two great strearas of the Teutonic race, though separated by but a narrow ridge of difference, were unable to reach a common channel. Their genius drove them into courses which were to run side by side for centuries, yet ever to remain divided. And if the lines in wluch their minds have flowed seera to be converging at last, and ff hereafter Germans and English are again to unite In a single faith, the remote meeting point is still invisible, and the terms of possible agreement can be but faintly (;onjectured. 896 Visitation of the Monasteries, [Ch. X CHAPTER X, THE VISITATION OP THE MONASTEEIES. Many high interests in England had been Injured by the papal jurisdiction ; but none had suffered more ritally than those of the raonastic establishments. These establishments had been injured, not by fines and exactions, — for oppression of this kind had been terrainated by the statutes of provisors, — but because, except at rare and remote intervals, they had been left to themselves, without interference and without sur veillance. They were deprived of those salutary checks which all human institutions require if they are Exemption to bc savcd froiu sliding into corruption. The of the re- . ° '^ ugions religious houses, almost without exception, bouses from '^ i , /» i control. were not amenable to the authority of the bishops. The several societies acknowledged obedience only to the heads of their order, who resided abroad; or to the pope, or to some papal delegate. Thus any regularly conducted visitation was all but impossible. The foreign superiors, who were forbidden by statute to receive for thefr services more than certain limited and reasonable fees, would not undertake a gratuitous labour ; and ths visitations, attempted with imperfect powers ^ by the English archbishops, could be resisted 1 The English archbishops were embarrassed by the statutes of provisors m applying for plenary powers to Rome. If they accepted commissions they accepted them at their peril, aud were compelled to caution in theii manner of pri ceeding. 1535.] Visitation of the Monasteries. 397 successfully under pleas of exemption and obedience to the rules of the orders,' Thus the abbeys had gone thefr own way, careless of the gathering indignation with which they were regarded by the people, and believing that in thefr position they held a sacred shield which would protect them for ever. In thera, contrast m the monas- as throughout the Catholic svstem, the sad- teries '*- f. 1 1- • ¦ 1 • 1 1 11 tweentheorjr ness of the condition into which they bad andiiict. fallen was enhanced by the contrast between the theory and the degenerate reality. Originally, and for many hundred years after their founda- i^e origmai tion, the regular clergy were the finest body '"''*"''™- of men of which mankind In their chequered history can boast. They lived to illustrate. In systematic sim plicity, the universal law of sacrifice. In their three chief vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, they surrendered everything which makes life delightfiil. Their business on earth was to labour and to pray : to labour for other men's bodies, to pray for other men's souls. Wealth flowed in upon them ; the world, in its ' instinctive loyalty to greatness, laid Its lands and its possessions at their feet ; and for a time was seen the notable spectacle of property administered as a trust, from which the owners reaped no benefit, except in crease of toU, The genius of the age expended its highest efforts to provide fitting tabernacles for the divine spirit which they enshrined ; and alike in village and city, the majestic houses of the Father of mankind and his especial servants towered up in sdVereign beauty, symbols of the civil supremacy of the church, and of the moral subUmltj of life and character which 1 27 Hen. VIII. cap. 28. The statute says that many visitations had been made in the two hundred years preceding the Reformation, bit had Uled wholly of suc;^s. 398 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. x had won the homage and the admfration of the Chris tian nations. Ever at the sacred gates sate Mercy, pouring out relief from a never-failing store to the poor and the suffering ; ever within the sacred aisles the voices of holy men were pealing heavenwards, in intercession for the sins of mankind ; and influences so blessed were thought to exhale around those mysteri ous precincts, that the outcasts of society — the debtor, the felon, and the outlaw — gathered round the walls, as the sick men sought the shadow of the apostle, and lay there sheltered from the avenging hand tUl their sins were washed from off their souls. Through the storms of war and conquest the abbeys of the middle ages floated, like the ark upon the waves of the flood, inviolate in the midst of violence, through the awful reverence which surrounded them. The soul of " religion," ^ however, had died out of The life of It for mauv generations before the Reforma- *t religion " , ,/ o left it In the tlou. At the closc of the fourteenth century, tury. Wycliffe had cried that the rotting trunk cumbered the ground, and should be cut down. It had not been cut down ; it had been allowed to stand for a hundred and fifty more years ; and now it was mdeed plain that it could remain no longer. The Doughs were bare, the stem was withered, the veins were choked with corruption ; the ancient life-tree of monasticism would blossom and bear fruit no more. Faith had sunk into superstition ; duty had died into routine ; and the raonks, whose technical dispipline was forgotten, and who were set free by their position from the discipUne of ordinary duty, had travelled BwUtiy on the downhill road of human corruption, 1 To enter "reUgion" was the technical expression for taking the vows. 1535.] Visitation of the Monasteries. 399 Only light reference wiU be made in this place to the darker scandals by which the abbeys were The darker dishonoured. Such things there really were, ?Xetou„ted to an extent which it may be painful to be- "f™- lieve, but which evidence too abundantiy proves. It is better, however, to bury the recollection of the more odious forms of huraan depravity ; and so soon as those who condemn the Reforraation have ceased to deny what the painfulness of the subject only has albwed to remain disputed, the sins of the last EngUsh raonks wUl sleep with them in their tombs. Here, In spite of such denials, the most offensive pictures shall con tinue to be left in the shade ; and persons who wish to gratify their curiosity, or satisfy their unbeUef, may consult the authorities for themselves,-' I Political and shall confine my own efforts rather to the tiye abuses. explanation of the practical, and, in the highest sense of the word, political abuses, which, on the whole, perhaps, told most weightily on the serious judgment of the age, ^ The abbeys, then, as the State regarded them, ex isted for the benefit of the poor. The occu- ^^g abbeys pants for the time being were themselves ih**Senefl'"i under vows of poverty ; they might appro- *"•* p"™- priate to thefr personal use no portion of the revenues of their estates ; they were to labour with their own hands, and administer their property for the public advantage. The surplus proceeds of the lands, when- 1 A summary of the condition of the Religious Homes,. in the Cotton Library, Cleopatra, E 4; MS. Letters of the Visitors, in the same collec tion; three volumes of the correspondence of Richard Layton with Crom weU, in the State Paper Ofiice ; aud the reports of the Visitations of 1483 aud 1511, in the Registers of Archbishops Morton and Warham. Por printed authorities, see Suppression of the MonasUries, published by the Camden Society; Stij-pe'a Memorials, Vol. I., Appendix; FuUer's Eccleti. OMlical History ; and Wilkins's Concilia, "Vol. III. 400 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. X, their own modest requirements had been supplied, were to be devoted to the maintenance of learning, to the exercise ofa liberal hospitality, and to the relief of the aged, the impotent, and the helpless. The pop- Frauduient ular clamour of the day declared that these du^y. duties were systeraatically neglected ; that two-thirds, at least, of the religious bodies abused heir opportunities unfairly for their own advantage ; and this at a time when the obligations of all property were defined as strictly as Its rights, and negligent lay owners were promptly corrected by the State when- I ever occasion required. The raonks, it was believed, lived in Idleness, keeping vast retinues of ser^'ants to do the work which they ought to have done them- niegai divis-. sclves,^ They were accused of sharing divi- lonofproflts. jgnds by rautual connivance, although they were forbidden by their rule to possess any private property whatever, and of wandering about the coun try in the disguise of layraen in pursuit of forbidden indulgences,^ They were bound by their statutes to keep their houses full, and if their means were en larged, to increase thefr numbers ; they were supposed to have aUowed their corapleraent to fall to half, and soraetimes to a third, of the original foundation, fraud ulently reserving the enlarged profits to themselves. Dishonest ad- It was thought, too, that they had racked ministration ,, ii- -t.o . i of the lands, their cstates ; that having a hfe-m terest only, they had encumbered them with debts, mortgages, and fines ; that in some cases they had wholly alien ated lands, of which they had less right to dispose 1 At Tewkesbury, where there was an abbot and thirty-two monks, I find payment made to a hundred and forty-four servants in livery, who were wholly engaged in the service of the abbey. — Particulars relating to the Dissolution of the Monasteries, section 5 : Burnet's Collectanea, p, SS ' Seethe Diiectious to the Visitors: Burnet's Collectanea, f. 74, Xb35,] Visitation of the Monasteries. 401 than a modern rector of his glebe,^ In the meantime, it was said thatthe poor were not fed, that _vegieetof hospitality was neglected, that the buildings Ji°egCt"of ' and houses were falling to waste, that fraud ""' *°°''- and Simony prevailed among them from the highesl to the lowest, that the abbots sold the presen- gj^o^ ^^j tations to the benefices which were in their P™'''S'"=y- gift, or dishonesdy retained the cures of souls in their own hands, careless whether the duties of the parishes could or could not be discharged; and that, finally^ the vast majority of the raonks theraselves were igno rant, self-indulgent, profligate, worthless, dissolute, j "^ These, in addition to the heavier accusations, were the charges which the popular voice had for raore than a century brought against the monasteries, which had led Wycliffe to denounce their existence as intolerable, the House of Commons to petition Henry IV, for the secularization of their property, and Henry V, to ap pease the outcry, by the suppression of more j^ im„jred than a hundred, as an ineffectual warning to ™™s^/by the rest,2 At length. In the year 1489, at """^^ ^¦ the instigation of Cardinal Morton, then Archbishop of Canterbury, a commission was issued by Innocent VIII, for a general investigation throughout England into the behaviour of the regular clergy. The pope said that he had heard, from persons worthy of credit, that abbots and monks in many places were system atically faithless to their vows ; he conferred on the archbishop a special power of visitation, and visitation cf directed him to admonish, to correct, to pun- ¦'*^^- 1 See, for instance. Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 86. 2 " In a parliament held at Leicester, in 1414, the priories alien in Eng land were given to theking; all their possessions to remain to the king and to his heirs for ever. And these priories were suppressed, to the num ber of more than a hundred houses." — Stow's Chronicle, p. 345. VOL. II. 26 402 The Abbey of St. Albans. [Ch. x ish, as might seem to him to be desirable.^ On the receipt of these instructions, Morton addressed the fol lowing letter to the superior of an abbey within a few miles of London, — a peer of the realm, Uving in the fiiU glare of notoriety, — a person whose offences, such as they were, had been coraraitted openly, palpably, and conspicuously in the face of the world : — " John, by Divine perraission. Archbishop of Can- Archbishop terbury, Priraate of all England, Legate of fee^Abb^'crf the Apostolic See, to WUliara, Abbot of the St. Alban's. j^o^astery of St, Alban's, greeting, " We have received certain letters under lead, the copies whereof we herewith send you, from our most holy Lord and Father in Christ, Innocent, by Divine Providence Pope, the eighth of that name. We there fore, John, the archbishop, the visitor, reformer, in quisitor, and judge therein mentioned, in reverence for the Apostolic See, have taken upon ourselves the burden of enforcing the said commission; and have determined that we will proceed by, and according to, the full force, tenour, and effect of the same. "And it has come to our ears, being at once pubhcly notorious and brought before us upon the testimony of many witnesses worthy of credit, that you, the abbot aforementioned, have been of long time noted and dif- famed, and do yet continue so noted, of Siraony, of usury, of dilapidation and waste of the goods,, reve nues, and possessions of the said monastery, and of certain other enormous crimes and excesses hereafter written. In the rule, custody, and adrainistration of the goods, spiritual and temporal, of the said monastery, you are so remiss, so negligent, so prodigal, that whereas the said monastery was of old times founded 1 The commission is in Morton s Register, MS., Lambeth Library, 1489-] The Abbey of St. Albans. 403 and endowed by the pious devotion of iUustriout prmces of famous memory, heretofore kings of this land, the most noble progenitors of our most serene Lord and King that now is, in order that true religion might flourish there, that the narae of the Most High, in whose honour and glory it was instituted, might be duly celebrated there ; " And whereas. In days heretofore the regular ob servance of the said rule was greatiy regarded, and hospitality was dUigently kept ; " Nevertheless, for no little time, during which you have presided in the same monastery, you and Delinquencies certain of your fellow raonks and brethren and'th*'"'"" (whose blood. It is feared, through your neg- °"'°^- lect, a severe Judge will require at your hand) have relaxed the raeasure and form of religious life ; you have laid aside the pleasant yoke of contemplation, and all regular observances ; hospitality, alms, and those other offices of piety which of old time were exercised and ministered therein have decreased, and by your faults, your carelessness, your neglect and deed, do daUy decrease more and more, and cease to be regarded — the pious vows of the founders are defrauded of their just Intent ; the antient rule of your order is deserted ; and not a few of your fellow raonks and brethren, as we most deeply grieve to learn, giving themselves over to a reprobate mind, lajting aside the fear of God, do lead only a life of lasciviousness — nay, as Is horrible to relate, be not afraid to defile the holy places, even the very churches of God, by infamous Intercourse with nuns, " You yourself, moreover, among other grave enor mities and abominable crimes whereof you are guUty, and for which you are noted and diffamed, have, in the 404 The Abbey of St. Albans. [Ch. x first place, admitted a certain married woman, named Elena Gerrayn, who has separated herself witbont just cause from her husband, and for some time past has lived in adultery with another man, to be a nun or sister in tbe house or Priory of Bray, lying, as you pretend, within your jurisdiction. You have next appointed the same woraan to be prioress of the said house, notwithstanding that her said husband was liv ing at the tirae, and is still alive. And finally. Father Thomas Sudbury, one of your brother monks, publicly, notoriously, and without interference or punishment from you, has associated, and still associates, with this woman as an adulterer with his harlot, " Moreover, divers other of your brethren and fellow monks have resorted, and do resort, continually to her and otlier women at the same place, as to a public brothel or receiving house, and have received no cor rection therefor, " Nor is Bray the only house into which you have introduced disorder. At the nunnery of Sapwell, which you also cont'-^^' t^ be ^inder your jurisdiction, you change the prioresses and superiors again and again at your own will and cajirice. Here, as well as at Bray, you depose those who are good and religious ; you promote to the highest dignities the worthless and the vicious. The duties of the order are cast aside ; virtue is neglected ; and by these means so much cost and extravagance has been caused, that to provide means for your indulgence you have introduced certain of your brethren to preside in their houses under the name of guardians, when in fact they are no guardians, but thieves and notorious villains ; and with their help you have caused and permitted the goods of the same priories to be dispensed, or to speak more truly to be 1489.] The Abbey of St. Albans. 405 dissipated, in the above-described corruptions and other enormous and accursed offences. Those places once religious are rendered and reputed as it VA^ere profane and impious ; and by your own and your creatures' conduct are so impoverished as to be reduced to the verge of ruin, " In like raanner, also, you have dealt with certain other cells of raonks, which you say are subject to you, even within the raonastery of the glorious proto-raartyr, Alban himself You have dilapidated the common property ; you have raade away with the jewels ; the copses, the woods, the underwood, alraost all the oaks and other forest trees, to the value of eight thousand marks and raore, you have made to be cut down with out distinction, and they have by you been sold and alienated. The brethren of the abbey, some of whom, as is reported, are given over to all the evil things of the world, neglect the service of God altogether. They live with harlots and mistresses publicly and continu ously, within the precincts of the monastery and with out. Some of them, who are covetous of honour and promotion, and desirous therefore of pleasing your cupidity, have stolen and made away with the chalices and otlier jewels of the church. They have even sacrilegiously extracted the precious stones from the very shrine of St, Alban ; and you have not punished these men, but have rather knowingly supported and maintained them. If any of your brethren be living justly and religiously, if any be wise an^ virtuous, these you straightway depress and hold in hatred, , . . You . , , , " But this overwhelraing document need not be tran scribed further. It pursues its way through mire and filth to its most lame and impotent conclusion. The 406 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch- x. abbot -w as not deposed ; he was Invited raerely to re« consider his conduct, and, if possible, amend It, Offences siraUar in kind and scarcely less gross were exposed at Waltham, at St, Andrew's, North ampton, at Calais, and at other places,^ Again, a reprimand was considered to be an adequate punish ment, ' Evils so deep and so abominable would not yield to languid treatment ; the visitation had been feeble in its. execution and limited in extent. In 1511 a second Visitation of ^'^^ attempted by Archbishop Warham,^ WMhim iS This InquIiy was more partial than the first, 1511. yg^ sirailar practices were brought to light : women introduced to religious houses ; nuns and ab besses accusing one another of incontinency ; the alms collected In the chapels squandered by the raonks in licentiousness. Once raore, no cure was attempted beyond a paternal admonition,^ A thfrd effort was made by Wolsey twelve years later : again exposure foUowed, and again no remedy was found. If the condition of the abbeys had appeared intoler able before Investigation, still less could it be endured when the justice of the accusations against them had been ascertained. But the church was unequal to the work of self-reformation, ParUameitt alone could de cide on the raeasures which the emergency made neces sary ; and preparatory to legislation, the true circum stances and present character of the religious bodies throughout the whole country were to be ascertained accurately and completely. Accordingly, in the suraraer of 1535, dfrectly after 1 Morton's Register, MS., Lambeth. 2 Warham's Register, MS., Lambeth, > Ibid. 1535.] Commission of 1535, 407 Sir Thomas More's execution, Cromwell, now " vice gerent of the king in all his ecclesiastical iggueofa jurisdiction within the realm," i issued a com- forT^I™^ mission for a general visitation of the religious ™''*"™- houses, the universities, and other spiritual corpora tions. The persons appointed to conduct the inquiry were Doctors Legh, Leyton, and Ap Rice, ecclesiasti- tp<. lawyers in holy orders, with various subordinates. Legh and Leyton, the two principal commis- character of . , 1.11 the commis- Sioners, were young, impetuous men, likely sioners. to execute their work rather thoroughly than delicately ; but, to judge by the surviving evidence, they were as upright and plain-dealing as they were assuredly able and efficient. It Is pretended by some writers that the inquiry was set on foot with a preconceived pur pose of spoliation ; that the duty of the visitors was rather to defame roundly than to report truly ; and that the object of the commission was merely to justify an act of appropriation which had been already deter mined. The commission of Pope Innocent, with the' prerious inquiries, puts to silence so gratuitous a sup position ; while it is certain that antecedent to the presentation of the report, an extensive measure of suppression was not so much as contemplated. First inten- mi 1, ¦ • • « 1 • • • tion of the The directions to the visitors,'^ the injunctions crown to re form and not which they were to carry with them to the to destroy various houses, the private letters to the superiors, which were written by the king and by Cromwell,' show plainly that the first object was to reform and not to destroy ; and it was only when reformation was found to be conclusively hopeless, that the harder al- 1 See Injunctions to the Clergy: Foxe, Vol. V. p. 165. ' Burnet's Collectanea, p. 74. • Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials, Vol. I., Appendix, p. 214. 408 Visitation of the Monasteria. [Ch, X temative was resolved upon. The report Itself is no longer extant, Bonner was directed by Queen Mary to destroy all discoverable copies of it, and his work was fatally well executed. We are able, however, to replace its contents to sorae extent, out of the despatches of the comraissioners. Their discretionary powers were unusually large, as The commis- appears from the first act with which the sioners issue . . . /-\ i ,' an inhibition visitors coraraenced operations. On their against the -i -i- i . i ¦ i -i • • bishops. own responsibility, they issued an inhibition against the bishops, forbidding thera to exercise any portion of their jurisdiction while the visitation was in progress. The sees theraselves were to be inspected ; and they desired to make the ground clear before they moved. When the araazed bishops exclairaed against so unheard-of an innovation. Doctor Legh justified the order by saying, that it was well to compel the prelates to know and feel their new position ; and in the fact of their suspension by a royal commission, to " agnize" the king as the source of episcopal au- thorlty,! Truly it was an altered world since the bishops And com- ^^^^ ^^ their answer to the coraplaints of S'o^ordT *^® House of Commons, The visitors, in Sept. 12. ^]^jg liaughty style, having established their powers, began work with the university of Oxford. Their time was short, for parliaraent was to meet early in the spring, when their report was to be submitted to it ; and their business meanwhile was not only to observe and inquire, but any reforms which were plainly useful and good, thej' were themselves to execute. They had no time for hesitation, therefore ; 1 Legh to Cromwell, Sept. 24th: Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials, Yli I., Appendix, p. 216. — Cotton. MS. Cleopatra, E 4, fol. 225 1835.] The Visitors at Oxford. 409 and they laid their hands to the task before them whh a promptitude at which we can only wonder. The heads of houses, as raay be supposed, saw Uttie around thera which was in need of reform, A few condition of students of high genius and high purposes sity. """' had been introduced into the university, as we have seen, by Wolsey ; and these had been assiduously exiled or iraprisoned, AU suspected books had been hunted out. There had been fagot processions in High-street, and bonfires of New Testaments Efforts of the at Carfax, The Aa.\\j chapels, .we suppose, houses. had gone forward as usual, and the drowsy lectures on the Schoolraen ; while " towardly young men " who were venturing stealthUy into the perilous heresy of Greek, were eyed askance by the authorities, and taught to tremble at their teraerity. All this we might have looked for ; and among the authorities themselves, also, the world went forward in a very natural raanner. There was comfortable liv- Parishciergy 111 Pill Idling at the ing in the colleges ; so comfortable, that many coUeges un- of the country clergy preferred Oxford and of study. Cambridge to the monotony of their parishes, and took advantage of a clause in a late act of parliament, which recognised a residence at either of the universities as an excuse for absence frora tedious duties, " Divers and many persons," it was found, " beneficed with cure of souls, and being not apt to study by reason of their age or otherwise, ne never intending before the making of the said act to travel in study, but rather minding their own ease and pleasure, colourably to defraud the same good statute, did daily and commonly resort to the said universities, where, under pretence of study, they continued and abode, living dissolutely ; nothing profiting themselves in learning, but consumed 410 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. x, the time In idleness and pastimes and insolent pleasures, giving occasion and evil example thereby to the young men and students within the universities, and occupy ing such rooras and commodities as were instituted for the raaintenance and relief of poor scholars," ^ These persons were not driven away by the heads of houses as the Christian Brothers had been ; they were wel comed rather as pleasant companions. In comfortable conservatism they had no tendencies to heresy, but only to a reasonable indulgence of their five bodily senses. Doubtless, therefore, the visitors found Oxford a pleasant place, and cruelly they marred the enjoy ments of it. Like a sudden storm of rain, they dropt The disturb- dowu luto Its quIet preclucts. Heedless of and quiet, rights of fellows and founders' bequests, of sleepy dignities and established indolences, they re established long dormant lectures in the colleges. In Bevoiution * ^^w Uttle days (for so long only they re- of studies. mained) they poured new life into education. They founded fresh professorships — professorships of Polite Latin, professorships of PhUosophy, Divinity, Canon Law, Natural Sciences — above all of the dreaded Greek ; confiscating fiinds to support them. For the old threadbare text-books, sorae real teaching was swiftly substituted. The idle residents were noted down, soon to be sent home by parliament to thefr benefices, under pain of being compelled, Uke all other students, to attend lectures, and, in thefr proper per sons, "keep sophisms, problems, disputations, and aU other exercises of learning," ^ The discipline was not neglected: " we have en joined the religious students," ^ Leyton wrote to Crom- » 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 13. 2 Ibid. S> That is, the exhibitioners sent up to the university from the monasterifb M35] The Visitors at Oxford. 411 weU, " that none of them, for no manner of cause, shaU come within any tavern, inn, or alehouse, or it,,y„iutfon any other house, whatsoever it be, within the "^ discipline. town and suburbs, [Each offender] once so taken, to be sent horae to his cloyster. Without doubt, this act Is greatly laraented of all honest women of the town ; and especially of their laundresses, that may not now once enter within the gates, much less within the chambers, whereunto they were right well accustomed, I doubt not, but for this thing, only the honest matrons wiU sue to you for redress," ^ These were sharp measures ; we lose our breath at their ra pidity and violence. The saddest vicissitude was that which befell the faraous Duns — Duns Scotus, Memorable 1 p 1 n 1 1 1 f**^ **f Duns the greatest ot the Schoolraen, the construct- Scotus. or of the memoria technica of ignorance, the ancient text-book of d priori knowledge, established for cen turies the supreme despot in the Oxford lecture-rooms. " We have set Duns in Bocardo," says Leyton. He was thrown down from his high estate, and from being lord of the Oxford inteUect, was " raade the common servant of all raen ; " conderaned by official sentence to the lowest degradation to which book can be sub- mitted,*^ Some copies escaped this worst fate ; but for changed uses thenceforward. The second occasion on which the visitors carae to New College, they " found the great Quadrant Court full of the leaves of Duns, the wind blowing them Into every corner ; and one Mr, Greenfield, a gentleman of Buckinghamshire, gathering up part of the same book leaves, as he said, to make him sewers or blawnsheres, to keep the deer 1 Strype, Memorials, Vol. 1. p. 323. Leyton to Cromwell- Suppressian tfthe Monasteries, p. 71, eteeci. ' Id quod meis oculis vidi, Leyton writes : Ibid, i 412 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. X. within his wood, thereby to have the better cry with his hounds," ^ To such base uses all things return at last ; dust unto dust, when the life has died out of thera, and the living world needs their companionship no longer. On leaving Oxford, the visitors spread over Eng- Progreas of land, uorth, south, east, and west. We trace tlie visitors j^egh lu rapid progress through Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Lincoln, Yorkshire, and Northumber land ; Leyton through Middlesex, Kent, Sussex, Hants, Somersetshire, and Devon, They appeared at raonas tery after raonastery, with prompt, decisive questions ; and if the truth was concealed, with expedients for discovering it, in which practice soon made them skU- Uniformi'-.y ^^- -^^ ^"* everywhere the result was the sf result. sarae. At In'tervals a light breaks through, and symptoms appear of some efforts after decency ; but in the vast majority of the smaller houses, the previous results were repeated, the popular suspicions were more than confirmed, Wolsey, when writing to the pope of his intended reforraation, had spoken of the animus Xhe animus improbus, and the frightful symptoms which ¦»ni,robus. existed of it. He was accused, in his at terapted impeachriient, of having defaraed the character of the English clergy. Yet Wolsey had written no more than thc truth, as was too plainly discovered,' I do not know what to say on this matter, or what to leave unsaid. If I am to relate the suppression of the monasteries, I should relate also why they were sup pressed. If I were to tell the truth, I should have first to warn all modest eyes to close the book, and read no further. It wUl perhaps be sufficient if I in troduce a few superficial stories, suggestive rather than 1 Leyton to Cromwell: Suppression of the MonasUries, p. 71, et «eq. 1636.] Progress of the Visitors. 413 Ulustrative of the dark raatter which remains in the shade, I have spoken raore than once of the monastery of Sion, It was the scene ofthe Nun of Kent's sjon Monas intrigues. It furnished raore than one martyr '*''^- for the Catholic cause ; and the order was Carthusian — one of the strictest in England, There were two houses attached to the sarae establishment — one of monks, another of nuns. The confessors of the woraen were chosen frora the friars, and they were found tc have aljused their opportunities in the raost infaraous manner. With a hateful mixture of sensuality and superstition, the offence and the absolution went hand- in-hand. One of these confessors, so zealous iheconfes- for the pope that he professed himself ready thTfrufts of to die for the Roman cause, was in the habit ''• of using language so filthy to his penitents, that it was necessary to " sequester him frora hearing ladies' con fessions," The nuns petitioned the visitors, on the exposure of the seduction of a sister, that he and his companion might come to them no more ; and the friar was told that his abominable conduct raight be the occasion that " shrift should be laid down in England," ^ This Is one instance of an evil found fatally prev alent. Again, the clergy were suspected of obtaining dis pensations from their superiors indulging Forged ii- cenees for them in a breach of their vows. The laxity profligacy. of the church courts in dealing with clejrical delin' quents had perhaps given rise to this belief ; but the • Leytt n to Cromwell : Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 48. Let it not be thought that the papal party were worse than the other. The sec ond confessor, if anything the more profligate of the two, gave his ser vices to the king. 414 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. X accusation was confirmed by a discovery at Maiden Bradley, in WUtshire, The prior of this house had a family of Ulegitimate chUdren, whom he brought up and provided for in a very corafortable manner ; ^ and the visitor wrote that " the pope, considering his fra gility" had granted him a Ucence in this little raatter ; that he had, in fact, " a good -writing sub plumbo, to discharge his conscience," I do not easily believe that authentic dispensations of such a kind were obtained frora Rome, or were obtainable from it ; but of forged dispensations, invented by reverend offenders or fraud ulently Issued by the local ecclesiastical authorities, to keep appearances sraooth, there were probably enough, and too many,^ The more ordinary experiences of the comraissioners Visit to raay be described by Leyton himself, in an Langden Ab- "^ i , i i /, i , • • t bey, Oct. 22. accouut which he wrote of his visit to Lang den Abbey, near Dover. The style is graphic, and the picture of the scene one of the most complete which remains. The letter is to Cromwell. " Please it your goodness to understand that on Friday, the 22nd of October, I rode back with speed to take an inventory of Folkstone, and from thence I went to Langden, Whereat Iramediately descending from my horse, 1 sent Bartlett, your servant, with all my servants, to circumspect the abbey, and surely to keep all back-doors and starting-holes, I myself went 1 The prior is an holy man, aud hath bnt six children; and but one daughter married yet of the goods of the monastery. His sons be tall men, waiting upon him. — Leyton to Cromwell: Suppression Sir Piers Dut':on to the Lord Chanceller: Ellis, third series, Vol. III. p. 43 1636.] The Monks at Fordham. 419 If, however, the appropriation of the jewels led tc occasional resistance, another duty which the commis sioners were to discharge secured them as often a warm and eager welcome. It was believed that the monastic institutions had fiirnished an opportunity, in many quarters, for the disposal of inconvenient raem bers of families, ChUdren of both sexes, it was thought, had been forced into abbeys and convents at an age too young to have allowed them a free choice in the sacrifice of their lives. To all such, therefore, Monits under I 1 o ±.^ • ' -I 1 24, and nuns the doors ot their prison house were thrown under 21, set open. On the day of visitation, when the their tow«. brethren, or the sisterhood, were assembled, the visit ors informed everywhere such monks as were under twenty-four, and such nuns as were under twenty-one, that they might go where they pleased. To those among thera who preferred to return to the world, a secular dress was given, and forty shUlings in money, and they were restored to the full privileges of the laity. The opportunity so justly offered was passionately embraced. It was attended only with this misfortune, that the line was arbitrarily drawn, and many poor wretches who fouud themselves condemned by the ac cident of a few more days or months of life to perpet ual imprisonment, made piteous entreaties for an ex tension of the terms of freedom. At Ford- ihemonki- ham. In Cambridgeshire, Dr, Legh wrote to petmon'&" Cromwell, " the religious persons kneeUng on "'¦''^ thefr knees, instantly with hurable petition desire of God and the king and you, to be disraissed frora their reUgion, saying they live in It contrary to God's law and their consciences ; trusting that the king, of his gracious goodness, and you, will set them at liberty out of their bondage, which they are not able to endure, 42C Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. X but should fall Into desperation, or else run away," " It were a deed of charity," he continued, fresh from the scene where he had witnessed the full m;'?ery of their condition, " that they might live in that kind of living which might be most to the glory of God, the quietness of their consciences, and raost to the common wealth, whosoever hath informed you to the contrary." ^ Sirailar expressions of sympathy are frequent in the visitors' letters. Sometimes the poor monks sued di rectly to the vicar-general, and Cromwell must have received many petitions as strange, as helpless, and as graphic, as this which follows. The writer was a cer tain Brother Beerley, a Benedictine monk of Pershore, in Worcestershire, It is amusing to find hira address ing the vicar-general as his " most reverend lord in God," I preserve the spelling, which, however, will with some difficulty be found intelligible, " We do nothing seyrch," says this good brother. Letter of a '.' foi" the doctryu of Chryst, but all fowloys Perahore to owr owue scusyaly and plesure. Also most CromweU. gracyus Lord, there Is a secrett thynge in my^ conchons whych doth raove mee to go owt ofthe relyg- yon, an yt were never so perfytt, whych no man may know but my gostly fader ; the wych I supposs yf a man mothe guge [is] yn other yong persons as in me selfe. But Chryst saye nolite judicare et non judicabi- rlni, therefore y wyll guge my nowne conschons fj'rst — the wych fault ye shall know of me heyrafter more largyously — and many other fowl! vycys done amonckst relygyus men — not relygyus raen, as y thynck they owt not to be cald, but dyssemblars wyth God, 1 Legh to Cromwell: Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 82. The last words are curious, as implying that Cromwell, who is always supposed to have urged upon the king the dissolution of the abbeys and the inan-iage «f tlie clergy, at this time inclined the other way. 1688.1 The Monk of Pershore. i^l " Now, most gracyus Lord and most wortiiys'j vy- cytar that ever cam amonckes us, help rae owt of thys vayne relygyon, and macke me your servant handmayd and beydraan, and save ray sowlle, wych shold be lost yf ye helpe yt not — the wych ye may save wyth one word speking — and raayck me wych ara nowe nawtt to cura unto grace and goodness. " Now y wyll ynstrux your Grace sumwatt of relyg yus men, and how the Kyng's Gracis commandment is keyp yn puttyng forth of bockys the Beyschatt of Rome's userpt pour, Monckes drynke an bowll after coUatyon tyll ten or twelve of the clok, and cum to matyns as dronck as rayss — and sum at cardys, sum at dycys, and at tabuUes ; sum cura to raattyns begeny- mg at the mydes, and sum wen yt ys almost dun, and wold not cum there so only for boddly punyshment, nothyng for Goddis sayck. Also abbettes, raonckes, prests, dun lyttyl or nothyng to put owtte of bockys the Beyschatt of Rome's narae — for y myself do know yn dyvers bockys where ys name ys, and hys userpt powor upon us^," In reply to these and similar evidences of the state of the monasteries, it will be easy to say, that in the best ages there were raonks irapatient of their vows, and abbots negligent of their duties ; that human weak ness and human wickedness may throw a stain over the noblest institutions ; that nothing is proved by col lecting instances which may be merely exceptions, and that no evidence is more fallacious than that which icsts upon isolated facts. It is trae ; and the difficulty is felt as keenly by the accuser who brings forward charges which it is discred itable to have urged, if they cannot be substantiated, as 1 Bichard Beerley to Cromwell : Suppression of ihe MonasUries, p. 132. 422 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Oa.X by those who would avaU themselves of the easy open ing to evade the weight of the indictment, I have to say only, that if the extracts which I have made lead persons disposed to differ with me to examine the loc- uraents which are extant upon the subject, they w/'!l iearn what I have concealed as well as what I lia\ e alleged; and I believe that, if they begin the inquiry (as I began It myself) with beheving that the religions orders had been over-hardly judged, they wIU close il with but one desire — that the subject shall nevei more be mentioned. Leaving, then, the raoral condition in which the vis- New reguia- Itors fouud thcsc houscs, we will now turn to forced by the the regulations which they were directed to ers. enforce for the fiiture. When the investiga tion at each of the houses had been completed, wben the young monks and nuns had been dismissed, the ac counts audited, the piroperty examined, and the neces sary inquiries had been made into the manners and habits of the establishment, the remaining fraternity were then asserabled in the chapter-house, and the com missioners delivered to them thefr closing directions. No differences were made between the orders. The same language was used everywhere. The statute of supremacy was first touched upon ; and the injunction was repeated for the detailed observance of it. Cer tain broad rules of moral obedience were then laid down, to which all " religious " men without exception were expected to submit,^ No monks, thenceforward, were to leave the pre- The monks chicis of the monastery to which thev be- confined i i i , within waih. lougcd, uudcr any pretext ; they were to con- l These rules must be remembered. The impossibility of enforcing obedience tc them was the cause of the ultimate resolution to break up the Itystem. 1536.; Bules to be observed in all Abbeys. 423 fine themselves within the walls, to the house, fhe gar dens, and the grounds. No women were to corae within the walls, without Ucence from the king or the visitor; and, to no women to prevent all unpermitted ingress or egress, pri- ^¦tht^tbe'* vate doors and posterns were to be walled up, p"*'""*^ There was, in future, to be but one entrance only, by the great foregate ; and this was to be diligently watched by a porter. The " brethren " were to take Tht breth- their meals decently in the comraon hall, together in They were not to clamour, as they had been and'decentiy. in the habit of doing, "for any certain, usual, or ac customed portion of meat ; " but were to be content with what was set before them, giving thanks to God, To ensure gravity and decency, one of the brethren, at every refection, was to read aloud a chapter of the Old or New Testament, The abbot was " to keep an honest and hospitable table ; " and an almoner was to be appointed in each house, to collect the broken meats, and to distribute them among the deserving poor. Special care was to be taken in this last article, and " by no means should such alms be given to vaiiant, valiant, mighty, and idle beggars and vaga- wie beggars 7 7 7 J , 7 no longer to bonds, such as commonly use to resort to such besupported. places ; which rather as drove beasts and mychers should be driven away and compelled to labour, than in their idleness and lewdness be cherished and maintained, to the great -hindrance and damage of the commop/weal." All other alms and distributions, either prescribed by the statutes of the foundations, or established by the customs of the abbeys, were to be made and given as largely as at any past time. The abbots were to make no waste of the woods ot 424 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. X lands. They were to keep 'nefr accounts with an an nual audit, faithfully and truly. Fairs and No fairs uor markets were any more to be markets not , i , , i , , > . i to be held held Within the precincts,^ witbin the t-^ i i i i precincts. Evcry monk was to have a separate bed, and not to have any child or boy lying with him, or otherwise haunting unto him. The " brethren " were to occupy theraselves in daily reading or other honest and laudable exercises. Especially there was to be every day one general les son in Holy Scripture, at which every member of the house was bound to be present. Finally, that they might all understand the meaning of their position in the world, and the intention, which they had so miserably forgotten, of the foundations to which they belonged, the abbot, prior, or president. Some por- "^^^ every day to explain in English some rule which portion of the rule which they had professed ; htve"pi-o-^ " applying the same always to the doctrine of ew day'le Christ," The language of the injunctions is read to them, gi^j^gj, CromwcU's or the king's; and the passage upon this subject is exceedingly beautiful, " The abbot shall teach thera that the said rule, and other their principles of religion (so far as thev be laudable), be taken out of Holy Scripture : and he shall shew them the places from whence they be de rived: and that their ceremonies and other observ ances be none other things than as the first letters or principles, and certain introductions to true Christian ity : and that true religion is not contained in apparel, manner of going, shaven heads, and such other marks ; nor in silence, fasting, uprising in the night, singing, 1 At one time fairs and markets were held in churchyards. — Stat. Wr^i. ton., 1.' Ed. I. cap. 6. 1635] Visitation of the Monasteries. 425 and such other kind of ceremonies; but in cleanness of mind, pureness of living, Christ's faith not feigned, and brotherly charity, and true honouring of God in spirit and verity : and that those abovesaid things were instituted and begun, that they being first exercised in these, in process of time might ascend to tho.«»e as bv certain steps — that is to say, to the chief point and end of religion. And therefore, let them be exhorted that they do not continually stick and surcease in such ceremonies and observances, as though they had per fectly fulfilled the chief and outmost of the whole of true religion ; but that when they have once passed such things, they should endeavour themselves after higher things, and convert their minds from such ex ternal matters to more inward and deeper considera tions, as the law of God and Christian religion doth teach and shew : and that they assure not theraselves of any reward or coraraodity by reason of sucb cere monies and observances, except they refer all such to Christ, and for his sake observe them," ^ Certainly, no government which Intended to make the irregularities of an institution an excuse for de stroying it, ever laboured raore assiduously to defeat its own objects. Those who most warmly disapprove of the treatment of the monasteries have so far no rea son to complain ; and except in the one point rf the papal supremacy, under which, be it remembered, the religious orders had luxuriated in corruption, Beeket or Hildebrand would scarcely have done less or more than what had as yet been atterapted by Henry, But the time had now arrived when the results of ' General Injunctions to be given on the King's Highness's beha'f, in ill Monasteries and other houses of whatsoever order or religion th»r V Bumnt's CoUectanea, p. 77. 426 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Oh. X. the Investigation were to be submitted to the nation. The parliament — the same old parliaraent of 1529, which had coraraenced the struggle with the bishops — ¦ was now meeting for its last session, to deal with this its greatest and concluding difficulty. It assembled on jggg the 4th of February, and the preUrainaries mSfeMts ^^ ^^ great question being not yet corapleted, last session, j-jjg Houscs worc first occupIcd wlth simplify ing justice and abolishing the obsolete privileges of the February. Northern palatinates,^ Other minor matters measures. were also dlsposcd of. Certain questionable people, who were taking advantage of the confusion of the times to " withhold tythes," were animadverted upon,2 The treason law was further extended to cora prehend the forging of the king's sign-manual, signet, and privy seal, " divers light and evil-disposed per sons having of late had the courage to commit such offences," The scale of fees at the courts of law was fixed by statute ; * and felons having protection of sanc tuary were no longer to be permitted to leave the pre cincts, and return at their pleasure. When they went abroad, they were to wear badges, declaring who and what they were ; and they were to be within bounds after sunset. In these and similar regulations the The commis- ©arfy wccks of the session were consumed, MnTthe'iT' At length the visitors had finished their work, "'""• and the famous Black Book of the monaster ies was laid on the table of the House of Commons, This book, I have said, unhappily no longer exists. Persons however who read it have left on record em phatic descriptions of Its contents ; and the preamble of the act of parliament of which it formed the founda tion, dweUs upon its character with much distinctness! I 87 & 28 Hen. VIIL cap. 24, 2 itid cap. 20. » Ibid. cap. 9, M36J The Black Book in Parliament. 427 I cannot discuss the insoluble question whether the stories which it contained were true. History is IU occupied with discussing probabilities on d priori grounds, when the scale of likelihood is graduated by antecedent prejudice. It is enough that the report was drawn up by men who had the means of knowing the truth, and who were apparently under no tempta tion to misrepresent what they had seen ; that the description coincides with the authentic letters of the visitors ; and that the account was generally accepted as true by the EngUsh parliaraent. It appeared, then, on this authority, that two-thirds of the monks in England were living in T„o-thirdB habits which may not be described. The "Je'ii^gta' facts were related In great detaU, The con- S.'t' noT be* fessions bf parties implicated were produced, •'^"'"''"'i- signed by thefr own hands,^ The vows were not ob served. The' lands were wasted, sold, and mortgaged. The foundations were Incomplete, The houses were falling to waste ; within and without, the monastic system was in ruins. In the smaller abbeys especially, where, from the liraitation of numbers, the merabers were able to connive securely at each other's piisde- meanours, they were saturated with profligacy, with Simony, with drunkenness,^ The case against the monasteries was complete ; and there Is no occasion either to be surprised or peculiarly horrified at the dis covery. The demoralization which was exposed was nothing less and nothing more than the condition into which men of average nature corapelled to celibacy, 1 Strype's Memorials, Vol. I. p. 387 ; Suppression of the Monasteries, p. 114. ^ When their enormities were first read iu the parliament house, they were so great and' abominable that there was nothing but " Down rgotten. Institutions which had been rooted in the country for so many centuries, retained a 432 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch. X, > hold too deep to be torn away without wounding a thousand associations ; and a reaction of regret would inevitably follow araong men so conservative as the English, so possessed with reverence for the old tradi- Aversion of tlous of their fathers. This was to be con- Etate=men to sldcred ; or rather the parliaraent, the crown, moasarea and the councU felt as the jieople felt. Vast as the changes were which had been effected, there ha 1 been as yet no sweeping raeasures. At each suc cessive step, Henry had never raoved without reluc tance. He hated anarchy ; he hated change : in the true spirit of an EngUshraan, he never surrendered an institution or a doctrine till every raeans had been ex hausted of retaining it, consistently-with allegiance to truth. The larger monasteries, therefore, with many of the rest, had yet four years allowed thera to demon strate the hopelessness of their amendment, the impos sibility of their renovation. The remainder were to reap the consequences of their iniquities ; and the judicial sentence was pronounced at last in a spirit as rational as ever animated the English legislature, " Forasmuch," says the preamble of the Act of Dis- Aptforthe solutlou, " as raanlfest sin, vicious, carnal, ofthesmaiier and abominable living, is daily used and. corn- Forasmuch mitted araong the little and small abbeys, persons In prlories, and other religious houses of monks, the little ab- ^ " . o beys are liv- cauous, and uuns, where the congregation of ing in mani- , , , , , 11, festsin, such reiigious persons is under the number of twelve, whereby the governors of such religious houses and their convents, spoil, consurae, destroy, and utterly waste their churches, monasteries, principal To the dis- houses, farms, and granges, to the high dis- Godandthe pleasure of Almlghtv God, the slander oi great infamy ' ... , , „ „ 1 ofthoreaun; truc religion, and to the great infamy of the 1836.] Smaller Houses suppressed. 433 King's Hlghr.jss and of the reahn, if redress should not be had thereof; and albeit that many continual risitations hath been heretofore had by the space of two hundred years and more, for an honest and charitable reforraation of such unthrifty, carnal, and abominable Uving; yet nevertheless, little or none amendment is hitherto had, but their vicious living shamelessly increaseth and augmenteth, and by a cursed custom is so rooted and infested, that a great multitude of the religious persons in such small houses do rather choose to rove abroad in apostacy than to conform them to the observation of true reUgion ; so that And foraa- without such sraall houses be utterly sup- ormation is 1 1 , 1 . . 1 , ^^'^ ^ ^® pressed, and the religious persons therein hopeless, committed to great and honourable monasteries of re ligion in this realm, where they may be compelled to hye reUgiously for the reformation of their lives, there can be no reformation in this behalf: in consideration hereof the King's raost royal Majesty, being supreme head on earth, under God, of the Church of England, daily finding and devising the increase, advancement, and exaltation of true doctrine and virtue in the said Church, to the only glory of God, and the total extirp- ing and destruction of vice and sui ; having knowl edge that the premises be true, as well by accounts of his late visitation as by sundry credible informations ; considering also that divers great monasteries of this realm, wherein, thanks be to God, religion is right well kept and observed, be destitute of such full number of religious persons as they ought and raay keep ; hath thought good that a plain declaration should be raade of the premises, as well to the Lords Spiritual and Temporal as to other his loving subjects the Coraraons in this present parUaraent assembled. Whereupon, the VOL. II. 28 434 Visitation of the Monasteries. [Ch, X. said Lords and Coraraons, by a great deliberation, It is believed finally be resolved that It is and shaU be Jriu'bt'bet- " much raore to the pleasure of Almighty ^''?I,^*='° God, and for the honour of this His reahn, such'homes that the possessions of such spiritual houses, STCTUUv'tog now spent; and spoiled, and wasted for in- appuedto crease and maintenance of sin, should be Detter pur- ' p°^«- converted to better uses ; and the unthrifty religious persons so spending the same be compeUed to reform their Uves," ^ The parliament went on to declare, that the lands The lands of °^ ^'^ monasteries the incomes of which were fess^t^n^ less than two hundred pounds a-year, should tob'e riven ^^ " givcii to the king," ^ The raonks were The'^mS' either to be distributed in the great abbeys, ^tribute'd " or to be dismissed with a permission," ff fSgeT *''° they desired It, " to live honestly and vfrtu- be'pensioned ously abroad," " Some convenient charity " hokestiy™ '^^^ to be allowed them for t^ir living ; and abroad. ^j^e chlef head or governor was to have " such pension as should be coraraensurate with his degree or quality," * All debts, whether of the houses or of the brothers individually, were to be carefiiUy paid; and finally, one more clause was added, sufficient In itself The tew to show the temper in which the suppression putoroiear ^^^ becu resolvcd upon. The visitors had SbHsbed by' reported a few of the smaller abbeys as free the Crown, f^^^^ stalu. The king was empowered, at 1 27 Hen, VIII. cap. 28. 2 Either to be held under the Crown itself for purposes of State, or to be granted out as fiefs among the nobles and gentlemen of Kngiand, undei Buch conditions as should secure the discharge of those duties which by the laws were attached to landed tenures. " The monks generally were allowed from four to eight pounds a-year being the income of an ordinary parish priest. The principals in man> cases had from seventy to eighty pounds a-year. ' 15361 The Protestant Bishops. 435 his discretion, to permit them to survive ; and undbr this permission thirty-two houses were refeunded in perpetuom eleemosynam.^ This is the history of the first suppression of the monasteries under Henry VIII, We regret the de- prarity by which it was occasioned ; but the measure itseff, in the absence of any preferable alternative, was bravely and wisely resolved. In the general imper fection of human things, no measure affecting the interests of large bodies of men was ever yet devised which has not pressed unequally, and is not in some respects open to objection. We can but choose the best among many doubtful courses, when we would be gladly spared, if we might be spared, from choosing ataU, In this great transaction, it Is weU to observe that the laity alone saw their way clearly. The The laity only , . o t 1.1 ¦'i, 1 see their way majority ot the bishops, writhing under tbe cieariy. inhibitions, looked on in sullen acquiescence, submit ting in a forced conformity, and believing, not without cause, that a tide which flowed so hotly would before long turn and ebb back again. Among the Reform ing clergy there was neither union nor prudence ; and the Protestants, In the sudden sunshine, were becom- mg unmanageable and extravagant. On the bench there were but four prelates who were on the moving side, — Cranmer, Lg,timer, Shaxton, and Barlow,^ — and among these Cranmer only approved the policy of the government, Shaxton was an arrogant .braggart, and Barlow a feeble enthusiast, Shaxton, who had flinched from the stake when Bilney was burnt, Shax- • Burnet's Collectanea, p. 80. ' In the autumu of 1S35 Latimer had been made Bishop of Worcester Shaxton of Salisbury, and Barlow of St. David's. 436 The Protestant Bishops. [Ch. X. ton, who subsequently relapsed under Mary, and be- Cnwisdom of came hiraself a Roraanlst persecutor, was now the Protes- . . , , ,i -^ j - 1.- tant bishops, strutting IU his ucw authority, and punisning, suspending, and inhibiting in behaff of Protestant doctrines which were not yet tolerated by the law,^ Barlow had been openly preaching that purgatory was a delusion ; that a layman might be a bishop ; tiiat where two or three, it raight be, " cobblers or weavers," " were In company In the name of God, there was the church of God."^ Such ill-judged precipitancy was of darker omen to the Reforraation than papal excom munications or Imperial menaces, and would soon be dearly paid for in fresh martyr-fires, Latimer, too, notwithstanding his clear perception and gallant hearty looked with bitterness on the confiscation of estabhsh ments which his mind had pictured to him as garri soned with a Reforming army, as nurseries of apostles of the truth. Like most fiery-natured raen, he was ill-pleased to see the stream flowing in a channel other than that which he had marked fiDr it ; and the state of his feeling, and the state of the English world, with all its confused Imaginings, in these months. Is described with some distinctness in a letter written by a London curate to the Mayor of Plyraouth, on the 13th of March, 1535-36, while the biU for the suppression of the abbeys was in progress through parliament, " Right Worshipful, — On the morrow after that utter of a Master Hawkins departed irova. hence, I, hav- Loudon cn- , , , , *¦ , rate to the lug nothing to do, as an idler went to Lam- Mayor of , ^, r 1 • 1 1 1 1 Plymouth, beth to the bishop s palace, to see what news ; and I took a wherry at Paul's Wharf, wherein 1 Stiype's Memorials, Vol. I., Appeudrs, p. 222; Burnet's Cbflectaneo, p 92. ' Strype's Memorials, Vol. I., Appendix, p. 273. 1636,] State of London. 437 iho was afready a doctor named Crewkhome, which was sent for to come to the Bishop of Canterbury. And he, before the three Bishops of Canterbury, Worcester, and Salisbury, confessed that he y¦,^^^^ „, j^ was rapt into heaven, where he saw the Dr°orewk- Trinity sitting in a pall or mantle or cope of '"'™°- blew colour ; and from the middle upward they were three bodies, and from the middle downward vsrere they closed all three into one body. And he spake with Om' Lady, and she took him by the hand, and bade him serve her as he had done In time past ; and bade him preach abroad that she would be honoured at Ipswich and Willesdon as she hath been in old times, " On Tuesday in Ember week, the Bishop of Roch ester ' came to Crutched Friars, and inhibited 1 1 1 o 1 March 13. a doctor and three or tour more to hear con fession ; and so in Cardmaker and other places. Then the Bishop of London's apparitor came and railed on the tjther bishops, and said that he, nor no such as he, shall have jurisdiction within his Lord's precincts. Then was the Bishop of London sent for to make answer ; but he was sick and might not come. On Friday, the clergy sat on it in Convocation House a long time, and left off till another day; and in the meantime, all men that have taken loss or wrong at his hands, must bring in thefr bUls, and shaU have recompence. " On Sunday last, the Bishop of Worcjester preached at Paul's Cross, and he said that bishops, Latimer , , . % preaches at abbots, priors, parsons, canons, resident priests, Paul's cross, and aU, were strong thieves ; yea, dukes, spectfai to '^ 1 persons in lords, and aU, The king, quoth he, made a authority marveUous good act of parhament, that certain men 1 John Hilsey. 438 State of London. [Ch. 3 should sow every of them two acres of hemp ; but ii were aU too Uttle, even if so much more, to hang the thieves that be in England, Bishops, abbots, with such others, should not have so raany servants, nor so many dishes ; but to go to their first foundation ; and keep hospitahty to feed the needy people — not jolly fellows, with golden chains and velvet gowns ; ne let these not once come Into houses of religion for repast. Let them caU knave bishop, knave abbot, knave prior, yet feed none of them all, nor thefr horses, nor their dogs. Also, to eat flesh and white meat in Lent, so it be done without hurting weak consciences, and with out sedition ; and likewise on Fridays and aU days, " The Bishop of Canterbury saith that the King's What Cran- Gracc is at fiiU point for friars and chauntry mer will do , i i i ii n - i.-\_ with the un- pricsts, that they shall away all, saving them friars. that can preach. Then one said to the bishop, that they had good trust that they should serve forth their Ufe-times ; and he said they should serve It out at a cart, then, for any other service they should have by that." The concluding paragraph of this letter Is of stiU greater interest. It refers to the famous Vagrant Act, of which I have spoken in the first chapter of this work,^ " On Saturday In the Ember week, the King's Grace The Vagrant Came lu amoug the burgesseis of the parUa- fruito'of^r ment, and deUvered them a bUl, and bade suppression, ^jigm \q^ upoH It, and weigh It in conscience ; for he would not, he said, have them pass either It or any other thing because his Grace giveth In the bill ; but they to see if it be for the commonweal of his sub jects, and have an eye thitherwards ; and on Wednes- l 27 Hen. VIII. cap. 25. »».] The Vagrant Act. 439 day next he wiU be there again to hear thefr minds. There shaU be a proviso made for the poor people. The gaols shall be rid ; the faulty shall die ; and the others shall be rid by proclaraation or by jury, and ahaU be set at liberty, and pay no fees. Sturdy beg gars and such prisoners as cannot be set at work, shall be set at work at the king's charge ; some at Dover, and some at places where the water hath broken over the lands. Then, ff they faU to idleness, the idler shaU be had before a justice of the peace, and his fault written. If he be taken idle again in another place, he shall be known where his dwelling is ; and so at the second mention he shall be burned in the hand ; and ff he faU the third tirae, he shall die for it," 1 The king, as it appeared, had now the means at his disposal to find work for the unemployed ; and the lands bequeathed for the benefit of the poor were re applied, under altered forms, to their real intention. The antithesis which we sometiraes . hear between the charity of the monasteries — which relieved poverty for the love of God — and the worldly harshness of a poor-law, wUl not endure inspection. The monas teries, which had been the support of " valiant beg-. gary," had long before transferred to the nation the mauitenance of the impotent and the deserving ; and the resumption of an abused trust was no more than the natural consequence of their dishonesty, I have afready discussed ^ the penal clauses of this act, and I need not enter again upon that much-ques- The penai . . clauses of tioned subject. Never, however, at any pe- this statute. 1 Letter of Thomas Dorset to the Mayor of Plymouth: Suppression ef iht Monasteries, p. 36. » Vol, I. chap, 1. 440 Bemission of First fruits. [Cn. X. riod, were the labouring classes in England more gen erously protected than in the reign of Henry VIII, ; never did any government strain the power of legisla tion more resolutely in their favour ; and, I suppose, they would not themselves object to the reenaetment of Henry's penalties against dishonesty, if they might !iave with thera the shelter of Henry's laws. The session was drawing to an end. At the close of It, the government gave one more proof of thefr goodwill toward any portion of the church establish raent which showed signs of being alive. Duns Sco tus being disposed of in Bocardo, the idle residents being driven away, or compelled to employ themselves, and the professors' lectures having recovered their energy, there were hopes of good frora Oxford and Carabridge ; and the king conceded for them what the pope had never conceded, when the power rested with the See of Rorae : he remitted formaUy by statute the tenths and firstfruits, which the colleges had paid in coraraon with all other church corporations, " His Majesty Is conscious," says the act which was passed Payment of o". thIs occaslou,^ that the enforcing of the ndttedtothe payraent of firstfruits against the universities. Universities. " may prejudice learning, and cause the stu dents to give thefr minds to other things, which might not be acceptable to God ; " and " he has conceived such hearty love and tender affection to the continuance of honest and virtuous living, and of the arts and sciences (wherewith it hath pleased Almighty God abundantly to endow his Highness), as that his Grace cannot compare the same to any law, constitution, or statute ; nor tolerate any such ordinance, though the commod ity and benefit thereof should never so much redound 1 27 Hen. VIH. cap. 42. 1536.] Dissolution of Parliament. 441 to his own profit or pleasure, if it may hinder the ad vancement and setting forth of the lively word of God, wherewith his people must be fed ; or ff it raay im peril the knowledge of such other good letters as in Christian realms is expedient to be learned. He has therefore, — (for that the students should the more gladly bend their wits to the attaining of learning, and, before aU things, the learning of the wholesome doc- tfties of Almighty God, and the three tongues, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, which be requisite for the -mder- standing of Scripture,) — thought it convenient " to exonerate the universities from the payment of first- finilts for ever. So closed the first great parliament of the Reforma tion, which was now dissolved. The Lower ^prj, 4. House Is known to us only as an abstraction, ^the'Jmriia- The debates are lost ; and the detaUs of its f^:^^„f proceedings are visible only In faint transient "^ '**"'""• gleams. We have an epitome of two sessions in the Lords' Journals ; but even this partial assistance fails us with the Commons ; and the Lords in this raatter were a body of secondary moraent. The Lords had ceased to be the leaders of the English people ; they existed as an ornament rather than a power ; and under the direction of the council they followed as the stream drew them, when individually, ff they had so dared, they would have chosen a far other course. The work was done by the Commons ; by t.hem the first move was made ; by them and the king the cam paign was carried through to victory. And this one body of men, dim as they now seera to us, who assera bled on the wreck of the adrainistration of Wolsey, had commenced and had concluded a revolution which had reversed the foundations of the State, They 442 The Work accomplished by Parliament. [Oh, X. found England in dependency upon a foreign power ; they left it a free nation. They found it under the despotism of a church establishment saturated with disease ; and they had bound the hands of that estab hshment ; they had laid it down under the knife, and carved away its putrid merabers ; and stripping off Its Nessus robe of splendour and power, they had awak ened in it sorae forced remembrance of Its higher caU ing, The elements of a far deeper change wdfe seething ; a change, not In the disposition of outward authority, but in the beliefs and convictions which touched the Ufe of the soul. This was yet to come ; and the work so far was but the initial step or prelude leading up to the raore solemn struggle. Yet where the enemy who Is to be conquered is strong, not in vital force, but in the prestige of authority, and in the enchanted defences of superstition, those truly win the battle who strike the first blow, who deprive the idol of its terrors by daring to defy it. uae.] Dtath of Queen Catherine. 443 CHAPTER XI. TBIAL AND DEATH OP ANNE .BOLEYN, The first act of the great draraa appeared to have closed. No ftirther changes were for the present in contemplation. The church was reestablished under its altered constitution ; and the parliament had been dissolved under the Irapression that It would be un necessary to summon another for an Indefinite time,^ Within four weeks of the dissolution, writs were issued for a fresh election, under the pressure of a misfortune which is alike calamitous, under whatever aspect we regard it ; and which blotted the Reformation with a black and frightful stain. The guilt must rest where it is due ; but under any hypothesis, guilt there was, dark, mysterious, and most miserable. The fate of Queen Catherine had by this tirae cora pleted itself. She had taken her leave of a Death of iii-iiii 11 lie Queen Cath- world which she had smaU cause to thank tor erine. the entertainment which it had provided for her ; and she died, as she had Uved, resolute, haughty, and un bending. In the preceding October (1535) she was in bad health ; her house, she imagined, disagreed with her, and at her own desire she was Removed to Kimbolton, But there were no symptoms of Irarae diate danger. She revived under the change, and vras In better spfrits than she had shown for many 1 Speech of the Lord Chancellor: Lords' Journals, p. 84 444 Death of Queen Cathenne. [(^'i'- XI, previous months, especiaUy after she heard of the new pope's resolution to maintain her cause, " Much re sort of people came daily to her," ^ The vexatious dispute upon her title had been dropped, from an ina- biUty to press it ; and it seemed as if life had become at least endurable to her, if it never could be more. But the repose was but the stillness of evening as night is hastening down. The royal officers of the house hold were not admitted into her presence ; the quee% lived wholly among her own friends and her own peo ple ; she sank unperceived ; and so effectually had she withdrawn from the observation of those whom she desired to exclude, that the king was left to learn from the Spanish ambassador that she was at the point of death, before her chamberlain was aware that she was more than Indisposed,^ In the last week of Decembei Henry learnt that she was in danger. On the 2d of January the ambassador went down from London tc Kimbolton, and spent the day with her,^ On the 5th, Sir Edmund Bedingfield wrote that she was very Ul, and that the issue was doubtful. On the raorning of the 7th she received the last sacraraent, and at two January 7. o'clock OU that day she died.* On her death- Her laat let- i i /. ii ter to Henry, bed shc dictated the foUowmg letter of fare well to him whora she still called, her most dear lord and husband, " The hour of my death now approaching, I cannot choose but, out of the love I bear you, advise you of your soul's health, which you ought to prefer before aU considerations of the world or fiesh whatsoever ; for vvhich yet you have cast me into raany calamities, and 1 Strype's Memorials, Vol. I. p. 370. 2 Sir Edmund Bedingfield to Cromwell: Siate Papers, Vol. I. p. 461. s Strype's Memorials, Vol. I. ; and see Appendix, p. 241, et seq. * State Papers, Vol. 1. p. 452 1M6.] Death of Queen Catherine. 445 yomself into many troubles. But I forgive you all, and pray God to do so Ukewise, For the rest I com mend unto you Mary our daughter, beseeching you to be a good father to her, as I have heretofore desired, I must entreat you also to respect my maids, and give them in marriage, which is not much, they being but three ; and to aU ray other servants a year's pay be sides their due, lest otherwise they should be unpro- rided for. Lastly, I make this vow, that raine eyea desire you above all things. Farewell," ^ This letter reached Henry with the intimation that she was gone. He was much affected, and is said to have shed tears,^ The court was ordered Into mourning — a command which Anne Boleyn distinguished herself by she is buried imperfectly obeying,^ Catherine was buried borough' and at Peterborough, with the estate of Princess p^tertforragh Royal ; * and shortly after, on the foundation ^^''emoS'ii'* ofthe new bishoprics, the See of Peterborough "^ ''*'¦¦ was established in her memory. We may welcome, 1 Lord Herbert, p. 188. * Lord Herbert, p. 188. It will have beeu observed, that neither iu thia letter, nor in the other authentic papers connected with her death, is there any allusion to Cardinal Pole's famous story, that being on her deathbed, Queen Catherine prayed the king to allow her to see her daughter for the last time, and that the request was reftised. Pole was not in England at the time. He drew his information from Catholic rumour, as vindictive as it was credulous ; and in the many letters from members of the privy coun cil to him which we possess, his narrative is treated as throughout a mere wild collection of fables. I rsquire some better evidence to persuade me tliat this story is any truer than the rest, when we know that Catherine allowed the king to hear that she was dying, not from herse^, biit from a tbreigii ambassador ; and that such a request could have been made in the fidw (lays which intervened between this intimation and her death, without Home traces of it appearing in the close account which we possess of her linguage and actions during those days, is in a high degree unlikely. " See Lingard, Vol. V. p. 30. Hall says : " Queen Anne wore yellow for mouming." ' The directions for the ttmeral are printed in Lingard Vol. V., Appen dix, p. 267. 446 Anne Boleyn. [Ch. xl however late, these acts of tardy respect.^ Henry, in the fow last years, had grown wiser In the ways of women ; and had learnt to prize more deeply the au sterity of virtue, even in its unloveliest aspect. The death of Catherine was followed, four months Fall of Anne later, by the tragedy which I have now to Boleyn. relate. The ground on which I am about to tread Is so critical, and the issues at stake affect so deeply the honour of many of our most eminent Eng lish statesmen, that I must be pardoned ff I cannot here step boldly out vrith a flowing narrative, but must pick ray way slowly as I can : and I, on ray part, raust ask my readers to move slowly also, and be content to allow their judgment, for a few pages, to remain in sus pense. And first, I have to say that, as with aU the great events of Henry's reign, so especially vrith this, we must trust to no evidence which is not strictly con temporary. During periods of revolution, years do the work of centuries in colouring actions and disturbing forms ; and events are transferred swiftly from the de- l It ought not to be necessaiy to say that her will was respected — Lord Herbert, p. 1^ ; but the king's conduct to Catherine of Arragon has pro voked suspicion even where suspicion is unju.st; and much mistaken dec lamation has been wasted in connexion with this matter upon an offence wholly imaginaiy. In making her bequests, Catherine continued to regard herself as the Idng's wife, in which capacity she professed to have no power to dispose of her property. She left her legacies in the form of a petition to her hus band. She had named no executors ; and being in the eyes of the law " a Bole woman," the administration lapsed in consequence to the nearest of kin, the emperor. Some embarrassment was thus created, and the attor ney-general was obliged to evade the difficulty by a legal artifice, before the king could take possession, and give effect to the bequests. — See Strype's Memor., Vol. I., Appendix, pp. 252-255. Miss Strickland's valuable volumes are so generaUy read, that I venture to aak her to reconsider the paasage which she has writteu on this subject. The king's offences againat Catherine require no unnecessary exaggeration. ie36.j Anne Boleyn. 447 liberation of the judgment to the precipitate arrogance of party spfrit. When the great powers of Europe were united against Elizabeth, and when Elizabeth's own character was vilely and wantonly assailed, the CathoUc writers dipped their pens in the stains which blotted her mother's name ; and, more careless of truth than even theological passion can excuse, they poured out over both alike a streara of indiscrirainate calurany. On the other hand, as Elizabeth's lordly nature was the pride of all true-hearted Englishmen, so the Reform ers laboured to reflect her vfrtues backwards. Like the CathoUcs, they linked the daughter with the parent ; and became no less extravagant In their panegyrics than their antagonists in their gratuitous invective. But the Anne Boleyn, as she appears in contemporary letters, is not the Anne Boleyn of Foxe, or Wyatt, or the other champions of Protestantism, who saw in her the counterpart of her child. These writers, though firing so near to tbe events which they described, yet were dirided from the preceding generation by an im passable gulf. They were surrounded with the heat and flame of a controversy, in which public and private questions were wrapped inseparably together ; and the raore closely we scrutinize their narratives, the graver occasion there appears for doing so. While, therefore, in following out this miserable sub ject, I decUne so much as to entertain the -g^^i^^ ^„ ^ stories of Sanders, who has represented j„a5^g''u3« Queen Anne as steeped in profligacy from question her childhood, so I may not any more adcept those late memorials of her saintliness, which are alike unsup ported by the evidence of those who knew her. If Protestant legends are admitted as of authority, the Catholic legends must enter with them, and we shall 448 Anne Boleyn. [Ch. xl only deepen the confiision. I cannot follow Burnet, in reporting out of Meteren aversion of Anne Boleyn'a trial, unknown in England, The subject is cr. ! on which rhetoric and rumour are ahke unprofitable. Wo must confine ourselves to accounts written at the hne by persons to whom not the outline of the facts mly was known, but the circumstances which surroui led thera ; by persons who had seen the evidence upon '.'le alleged offences, which, though now lost irrecoverably, can be proved to have once existed. We are unable, as I early observed, to form any Difflculty of trustworthy judginent of Anne Boleyn before Anne Bo. her marriage. Her education had been in ehmaJ^.^ the worst school in Europe. On her return frora the French court to England, we have seen her entangled in an unintelligible connexion with Lord Percy ; and if the account sent to the Emperor was true, she was Lord Percy's actual wife ; and her con duct was so criminal as to make any after-charges against her credible,^ If the Protestants, again, found in her a friend and supporter, she was capable, as Wolsey experienced, of inveterate hatred ; and although among the Reforraeis she had a reputation for generosity, which is widely confirmed,^ yet it was exercised always in the direction in wbich her interests pointed; and kindness of^feel- mg is not incompatible, happily, with seriously melan choly faults. The strongest general evidence in her favour Is that Cranmer's of Cranmer, who must have known her intl- her fiivour. mately, and who, at the crisis of her life, de clared that he " never had better opinion in woman than 1 See Vol. L pp. 175, 176. ' Foxe speaks very strongly on this point. In Ellis's Letters we find many detailed instances, and indeed in all contemporary authorities 1636.] Anne Boleyn. 449 he had in her," ^ Yet there had been circumstances in her conduct, as by her own after confessions was amply erident, which justified Sir Thoraas More in foretell ing a stormy end to her splendour ; ^ and her relations with the king, whether the fault rested with hira, or rested with her, grew rapidly cool when she Early cooi- was' his wife. In 1534, perhaps sooner, both S^ana'"'°° she herself, her brother, and her relations had ^^'^'^- made theraselves odious by their Insolence ; her over bearing raanners had caused a decline in the king's affection for her ; and on one side it was reported that he was likely to return to Catherine,* on the other that he had transferred his attention to sorae other lady, and that the court encouraged his inconstancy to sep arate him from Anne's influence,* D'InteviUe con firms the account of a new love affair, particularising nothing, but saying raerely that Anne was falling out of favour ; and that the person alluded to as taking her place was Jane Seymour, appears frora a letter written after Anne's execution, by the Regent Mary to the Emperor of Austria, and from the letter written (sup posing it genuine) by Anne herself to the king before her trial ,^ 1 Cranmer's Letter to the King : Burnet, Vol. I. p. 323. 2 More's Ufe of More ; and see Chap. IX. * 11 Ee de Inghilterra haveva fatto venire in la Corte sua il majordomo de la Begina et mostrava esserse mitigate alquanto. La causa della miti gation precede del buon negotiar ha fatto et fa la Catolica Ma'" con lo Ambaxiatore del Re de Inghilterra con persuadirle con buoni parol! et prcjjeri che debbia restituir la Eegina in la antigua dignita. Dicano anchore che la Anna e mal voluta degli S' di Inghilterra si per la sua superbia, si anche per 1' insolentia et mali portementi che fanno nel regno li fratelli e parenti di Anna e che per questo il Re non la porta la at- fezione que soleva. — " Nuevas de Inglaterra " : MS. Archives of Simancas. * II Ee festeggia una altra donna della quale se mostra esser inamorato; e molti S' di Inghilterra lo ajutano nel seguir el preditto amore per desviar questo Re de la pratica di Anna. — Hid. ' Burnet's Colkctanea, p. 87. VOL. II. 29 450 Anne Boleyn. [Ch. XI, On the other hand, it is equally clear that whether provoked or not by infidelity on the part of Henry, her own conduct had been singularly questionable. We know very little, but waiving for the present the exposures at her trial, we know, by her own confession, that arrogance and vanity had not been her only faults, and that she had perraitted the gentlemen who were the supposed partners of her guUt, to speak to her of their passion for herself,^ In January, 1535, Henry's mind had been filled with " doubts and strange suspicions " about his wffe. There had been a misunderstanding, in which she had implored the intercession of Francis I,^ In February, 1536, she miscarried, with a dead boy, The proba^ whlcb later ruraour dwelt on as the cause of ble cause of . . i. , t^ • i thatcooiness. Hcury s displcasurc. But conversations such as those which she described with her supposed par amours, lay bare far deeper wounds of domestic un happiness ; and assure us, that if we could look behind the scenes, we should see there estrangements, quar rels, jealousies, the thousand dreary incidents fhat, if we knew them, would break the suddenness with which at present the catastrophe bursts upon us. It is the want of preparation, the blank ignorance in which we are left of the daily Iffe and daUy occurrences of the court, which places us at such disadvantage for recov ering the truth. We are unable to form any estimate whatever of those antecedent likelihoods which, in the events of our own ordinary Uves, guide our judgment so imperceptibly, yet so surely. Henry Is said to have been Liconstant, but those who most suspected Henry's motives charge Anne at the same time with a long no- 1 Pilgrim, p. 117. ' Le Labourenr, I. 405 : quoted in Lingard, Vol. V. p. 30. 1636.] Anne Boleyn. 451 torious profligacy.^ We cannot say what is probable or what is improbable ; except, indeed, that The ante- , ,, /, , , 1-11 cedent prob ¦ the guut ot every person is improbable ante- abilities , , 1 1 • 1 . amount to cedent to evidence ; and m the present in- nothing. stance, since, either on the side of the queen or of the king, there was and must have been raost terrible gmlt, these opposite presumptions neutralize each other. To proceed with tho story. Towards the middle of April, 1536, certam members of the privy j^^ councU were engaged secretly in receiving aJTtton^^'a eridence which imphcated the queen in adul- ofTto privy tery. Nothing is known of the quarter from "="'""'''.¦ which the Information carae which led to the Inquiry,^ Something, however, there was to call for Inquiry, or something there was thought to be ; and on the 24th of April the case was considered sufiiciently coraplete to make necessary a public trial. On that day an order was issued for a special commission. The raera bers of the tribunal were selected with a care propor tioned to the solemnity of the occasion,^ It was com posed of the lord chancellor, the first noblemen of the realm, and of the judges. The investigation had, how- evef , been conducted so far with profound secrecy ; and the object for which It was to assemble was unknown even to Cranmer, himself a member of the privy coun cU,* With the sarae raysterious silence on ^^jnzr. the cause of so unexpected a measure, the fo^^pa^St? writs were issued for a general election, and ™™'- 1 Qnoy qu'il en soit I'ou me luy peult faire grand tort quand cires Van a repute pour meschante. Car ce a este des lougtemps son stile. — The Re gent Maiy to Ferdinand : MS. Brussels. ' Later writers point to the ladies of the court, but report could uot agree upon any single persou : and nothing is really known. ' Baga de Secretis, pouch 8 : Appendix II. to the Third Report of the D^nity Keeper of the Puoiic Records. * Cranmer to the King: Burnet, Vol. I. p. 322. 452 Anne Boleyn. [Ch. XI. parliaraent was required to assemble as soon as possi- Thnrsday, blc,^ On Thursday, the 27th, the first arrest M?St^oVsir was made. Sir WUliam Brereton,* a gen- Breret«n ; tlcmau of the klug's houschold, was sent sud- day,Aprir80, deuly to the Tower; and on the Sunday Smetam. after, Mark Sraeton, of whom we know only that he was a musician high in favour at the court, ap parently a spoilt favourite of royal bounty,^ The day Mayi. following was the 1st of May, It was the at Greenwich, day on whlch the annual festival was held at Greenwich, and the queen appeared, as usual, with her husband and the court at the tournament. Lord Rochfort, the queen's brother, and Sfr Henry Norris, both of them implicated in thc^atal charge, were de fender and challenger. The "tilting had commenced, Theking whcu the king rose suddenly with signs of goes to Lon- ,. , • i • t o -\ j don. disturbance in his manner, lert tlie court, and rode off with a small company to London, Rumour, which delights in dramatic explanations of great oc currences, has discovered that a handkerchief dropped by the queen, and caught by Norris, roused Henry's jealousy ; and that his after conduct was the result of a momentary anger. The incidents of the preceding week are a sufficient reply to this romantic story. The mine was already laid, the match was ready for the fire, 1 I must draw particular attention to this. Parliament had been j ast dissolved, and a fresh body of untried men were called together for no other purpose than to take cognizance of the supposed discovery. — See the Speech of the Lord Chancellor : Lm-ds' Journals, p. S4. If the accusa tions were intentionally forged by the king, to go out of the way to court so \:eedless publicity was an act most strange and mo.st incomprehensible. ' Constautyne says, Smeton was arrested first on Saturday evening, at Stepney ; but he seems inconsistent with himself. See his Memorial, Arch 1 11' , taken to the S*.airs ; and, as it to coraplete the bitter misery Tower. of the change, she was taken " to her own lodgings in which she lay at her coronation," She had feared that she was to go to a dungeon. When Kingston told her that these rooms had been prepared for her, " It is too good for me," she said, " Jesu have raercy on me ; " " and kneeled down, weeping a great space ; and ui the same sorrow fell into a great laughing," ^ She then begged that she might have the sac- she protests rament ui the closet by her chamber, that she cence, and ,,^ _ ll" 1 1 begs to have might pray tor mercy, declarmg "that she thesacra- £. i .1, X" r mentlnher was free trom the company ol man as tor closet. sin," and was " the king's true wedded wife," She was aware that the other prisoners were in the Tower, or, at least, that Sraeton, Weston, and Norria were there. Whether she knew at that time of the fiirther dreadful accusation which was hanging over her, does not appear ; but she asked anxiously for her brother ; and, ff she had suspected anything, her fears must have been confirmed by Kingston's evasive re plies. It is so painfiil to dwell upon the words and actions of a poor woman in her moments of raisery, that Kingston may describe his conversation ^ith her in his own. words. Lord Rochfort. had retumed to London at liberty ; he seeras to have been arrested the same Tuesday afternoon, " I pray you," she said, " to teU me where my I^ord Rochfort is ? " — "I told her,' 1 Kingston to Cromwell ; Singer's Cavendish, p. 451. 456 Anne Boleyn. [Ch, xi. Kingston wrote, that " I saw him afore dinner. In the court," " Oh, where is ray sweet brother ? " she went on, "I said I left hira at York-place ; and so I did, " I hear say," said she, " that I should be accused with three men ; and I can say no more but nay, without I should open my body," — and therewith she opened her gown, saying, " Oh, Norris, hast thou accused rae ? Thou art In the Tower with me, and thou and I shall die together. And, Mark, thou art here too. Oh, my mother, thou wilt die for sorrow," And much she lamented my Lady of Worcester, for because her child did not stir In her body. And my wife said, " What should be the cause ? " She said, " For the sorrow she took for me," And then she said, " Mr, Kingston,- shall I die without justice ? " And I said, " The poor est subject the king hath, had justice ; " and theyewith she laughed," ' Lady Boleyn, her aunt, had been sent for, with a i^jy Mrs, Cousins, and two other ladies, selected fhrelotte? by the king,2 They were ordered to attend ?i^lttend* upon the queen, but to observe a strict si- npon her. [enco ; and to hold no communication with her, except in the presence of Lady Kingston, This regulation, it was found, could not be Insisted on. Lady Boleyn and Mrs. Cousins slept in the queen's room, and conversation could not be prevented, Mrs, Cousins undertook, on her part, to Inform Kingston ff anything was said which " it was meet that he slioidd know," 3 1 Bangston to CromweU: Singer's Cavendish, p. 451. 2 She said, " I think it much unkindness in the king to put sur,*! about me as I never loved." I shewed her that the king took them to ' m honest •nd good women. ' But I would have had of mine own privy c jnber," •he said, " which I favour most." — Kingston to Cromwell: Ibid 45T » Ibid p. 453. 1636.] The Tower. 45'( In compliance with this promise, she told him, the next morning, that the queen had been speak- Wednesday, ing to her about Norris, On the preceding f Sported Sunday, she said that Norris had offered to S?XTue°eQ " swear for the queen, that she was a good ^"' ^°™*' woman," — " But how," asked Mrs, Cousins, very naturaUy, " how carae any such things to be spokeii of at all ? " — " Marry," the queen said, " I bade hira do so : for I asked him why he went not through with his marriage ; and he raade answer, that he would tarry a time. Then, I said. You look for dead raen's shoes ; for if aught came to the king but good, you would look to have rae,i And he said, if he should have any such thought, he would his head were off. And then she said she could undo hira. If she; would. And therewith they fell out," " But she said she more feared Weston ; for on Whitsun Tues- And with day last, Weston told her that Norris carae weston. more unto her chamber for her than for Mage," ^ Afterwards, " The queen spake of Weston, that she had spoken to him, because he did love her kinswoman, Mrs, Skelton, and that she said he loved not his wife ; and he made answer to her again, that he loved one in her house better than them both. She asked him who is that ? to which he answered, that It is yourself 'And then,' she said, ' she defied hira,' " ^ 1 The disorier of which the king ultimately died — ulceration m the legs— had already begun to show itself. ^ The lady, perhaps, to whom Norris was to have beeu married. Sir Ed ward Baynton makes an allusion to a Mistress Margery. The passage ia 80 injured as to be almost unintelligible : — "I have mused much et . . . . of Mistress Margery, which hath used her .... strangely towards me of late, being her friend as I have been. But no doubt it cannot be but she must be of councell therewith. There hath beeu great friendship between the queen and her of late." — Sir E. Baynton to the Lord Treasurer? Binger, p. 458. • Kingston to Cromwell: Singer, pp. 452, 453. Of Smeton she said, "H« 468 Anne Boleyn. [Ch.xl So passed Wednesday at the Tower, Let us feel our very utraost commiseration for this unhappy wom an ; if she was guilty. It is the more reason that we should pity her ; but I ara obliged to say, that conver sations of this kind, admitted by herself, disentitle her to pledd her character In answer to the charges against her. Young men do not speak of love to young and beautiful raarried woraen, still less to ladies of so high rank, unless soraething more than lerity has encouraged them ; and although to have permitted such language is no proof of guUt, yet It is a proof of the absence of innocence. Meanwhile, on the Tuesday morning, a rumour of The news the quceu's arrest was rife in London ; and Cranmer. the ucws for thc first time reached the ears to Lambeth' of Cranmer, The archbishop was absent tiU he hears . , i,, o -i -i furtber. trom homc, but m the course ot the day he received an order, through Cromwell, to repair to his palace, and remain there till he heard fur ther. With what thoughts he obeyed this comraand may be gathered frora the letter which, on the follow ing raorning, he wrote to Henry, The fortunes of the Reforraation had been so closely linked to those of the queen, that he trembled for the consequences to the church of the king's too just indignation. If the barren worab of Catherine had seemed a judgment against the first marriage, the shamefiil issue of the was never in my chamber but at Winchester; " she had sent for him " to play on the virginals," for there her lodging was above the king's " I never spoke with him since," she added, "but upon Saturday before Rlay day, and then I found him standing iu the round window in my cham ber of presence, and I asked why he was so sad, and he answered aud said •t was no matter; and then she said, " You may not look to have me speak to you as I should to a nobleman, because you be an inferior person.' — ' No, no, madam; a look sufficeth me [he said], and thus fare you well.'" — Singer, p. 455. 16J6.] Cranmer's Letter to the King. 459 second might be regarded too probably as a witness against that and against every act which had been con nected with it. Full of these forebodings, yet not too wholly occupied with thera to forget the unhappy queen, he addressed the king, early on Wednesday, in the fol lowing language : — " Please It your most noble Grace to be advertised, that at your Grace's comraandment, bv Mr, He writes to _ , , , , r-, , theking. becretary s letter, written m your Grace s He implores name, I came to Lambeth yesterday, and there bear us mis- I do remain to know your Grace's further »man, pleasure. And forasmuch as without your Grace's com mandment, I dare not, contrary to the contents of the said letter, presurae to come unto your Grace's pres ence ; nevertheless, of my raost bounden duty, I can do no less than raost hurably to desire your Grace, by your great wisdom, and by the assistance of God's help, somewhat to suppress the deep sorrows of your Grace's heart, and to take all adversities of God's hands both patiently and thankfully, I cannot deny but your Grace hath good cause many ways of lamentable heaviness ; and also, that in the wrongful estimation of the world, your Grace's honour of every part is so highly touched (whether the things that coraraonly be spoken of be true or not}, that I remember not that ever Almighty God sent unto your Grace any like occasion to try your Grace's constancy throughout, whether your Highness can be content to take of God's hands as weU things displeasant as pleasant, j^^ ^„ ,^. And ff He find In your most noble heart '^,?Peiy"th?^ such an obe(Uence unto his wiU, that your QodhjS'*nt Grace, without murmuration and over-much "p™*™"- heaviness, do accept aU adversities, not less thanking Him than when all things succeed after your Grace'» 460 Anne Boleyn. [Ch.xi will and pleasure, then I suppose your Grace did never thing more acceptable unto Him since your first gov ernance of this your realra. And moreover, your Grace shall give unto Hira occasion to raultiply and increase his graces and benefits unto your Highness, as He did unto his most faithful servant Job ; unto whom, after his great calamities and heaviness, for his obedient heart and wUIing acceptation of God's scourge and rod; addidit Dominus cuncta duplicia. And if it be true that is openly reported of the Queen's Grace, ff men had a right estimation of things, they should not esteem any part of your Grace's honour to be touched there by ; but her honour to be clean disparaged. And I am in such perplexity, that my mind is clean amazed ; for I never had better opinion In woman than I had in her ; which maketh me to think that she should not be culpable. And again, I think your Highness would not have gone so far, except she had been surely culpable, " Now I think that your Grace best knoweth that, quera'a next unto your Grace, I was raost bound kno™ mt \va.to her of all creatures living. Wherefore, what to be- J jjjQg^ humbly beseech your Grace to suffer me in that which both God's law, nature, and also her kindness bindeth me unto : that is, that I may with He will pray your Gracc's favouT wish and pray for her KnndTo^ that she may declare herself inculpable and nocent. innocent. And if she be found culpable, con sidering your Grace's goodness to her, and from what condition your Grace of your only mere goodness took her, and set the crown upon her head, I repute him not your Grace's faithful servant and subject, nor true unto the realm, that would not desire the offence with out mercy to be punished, to the example of all other. 1636.] Cranmer's Postscript. 461 And as I loved her not a Uttle for the love which 1 judged her to bear towards God and his gos- But if she pel ; so if she be proved culpable, there is let her be not one that loveth God and his gospel that with aii ex- wiU ever favour her, but must hate her above theaishonouj all other ; and the raore they favour the gospel, has brought the more they wUl hate her ; for there never gospei. " was creature in our time that so much slandered the gospel. And God hath sent her this punishment for that she feignedly hath professed his gospel in her mouth, and not In heart and deed. And though she hath offended so that she hath deserved never to be rec oncUed to your Grace's favour, yet Alraighty God hath manffoldly declared his goodness towards your Grace, and never offended you. But your Grace, I am sure, acknowledgeth that you have offended Him, Where fore, I trust that your Grace will bear no less He trusts . o 1 1^1 1 that the kmg entfre tavour unto the truth ot the gospel wiirsiinon. than you did before; forasmuch as your vour the gos- Grace's favour to the gospel was not led by as before. affection unto her, but by zeal unto the truth. And thus I beseech Almighty God, whose gospel he hath ordained your Grace to be defender of, ever to pre serve your Grace from all evil, and give you at the end the proralse of his gospel. From Lambeth, the thhd of May," The letter was written ; it was not, however, sent upon the Instant; and in the course of the He is sent roi , , , , . 1 T to the star morning the archbishop was requested to tChamber. raeet the Lord Chancellor, Lord Oxford, Lord Sussex, and the Lord Chamberlain, in the Star Chamber. He went, and on his return to Larabeth he added a few words in a postscript. In the Interview the post- • C 1 • 1 T 1 script of from which he had at the moment returned, his letter 462 Anne Boleyn. [Ch,xl those noblemen, he said, had declared unto him such things as his Grace's pleasure was they should make him privy unto ; for the which he was raost bounden unto his Grace. " What communications we had to- getner," he added, " I doubt not but they will make the true report thereof unto your Grace. Iam exceed ingly sorry that such faults can be proved by the queen, as I heard of their relation." ^ If we may believe, as I suppose we may, that Cran mer was a man of sound understanding, and of not less than ordinary probity, this letter Is of the greatest value ; it shows the impression which was made upon a sensible person by the first rumours of the discovery ; it shows also the archbishop's opinion of the king's character, with the effect upon his own mind of the eridence which the chancellor, at the king's command, had laid before him. We return to the prisoners in the Tower, Mark Smeton, who had confessed his guilt, was ironed,^ The other gentlemen, not In consideration of their silence, but of their rank, were treated raore leniently. To the queen, with an object which may be variously interpreted, Henry wrote the Friday succeeding her jyjay^ arrest, holding out hopes of forgiveness if Henrywritss shc would be houcst and open with him. v.t*ht|"om- Persons who assume that the whole transac- dratt'^he tion was the scheme of a wicked husband to will confess, (jjgpoge of a wlfo of whom he was weary, will 1 Printed iu Burnet, Vol. I, p. 322, et seq. 2 " Mark is the worst cherished of any man iu the house, for he wears irons." — Kingston to Cromwell, Later writers have assured themselves that Smeton's confession was extorted from him by promises of pardon. Why, then, waa the government so impolitic as to treat him with especial harshness so early in the transaction ? When he found himself " ironeij," he must have been assured that faith would not be kept with him ; and ha had abundant time to withdraw what he had said. 1636.] Anne Boleyn. 463 beUeve that he was practising upon her terror to obtain his fieedom by a lighter crirae than raurder. Those who consider that he possessed the ordinary qualities of humanity, and that he was really convinced of her guilt, may explain his offer as the result of natural feel'ng. But In whatever motive his conduct origi nated. It was ineffectual, Anne, either know- she j-^isis ing that she was Innocent, or trusting that Jng^hCT^*^' her guilt could not be proved, trusting, as °<"=™™' Sfr Edmund Baynton thought, to the constancy of Weston and Norris,^ declined to confess any- Being satis- -r/, ,, 1 , 1 fied that thing, " If any man accuse me, she said to there wa« no Kingston, " I can but say nay, and they can her guut, bring no witness."^ Instead of acknowledging any guilt in herself, she perhaps retaUated upon the king In the celebrated letter which has been thought a proof both of her own innocence, and of the conspiracy by which she was destroyed,^ This letter also, although at once so well known and of so dubious authority, it is fair to give entire, " Sir, — Your Grace's displeasure and my imprison raent are things so strange unto rae, as what to write, 1 The sentence is mutilated, but the meaning seems intelligible : " The queen standeth stiffly in her opinion that she wo ... . which I think is in the trust that she [hath in the] other two," — i. e. Norris and Weston. — Baynton to the Lord Treasurer. The government - seems to have been aware of some secret communication between her and Norris. — Ibid Singer, p. 458. 2 Kingston to Cromwell : Singer, p. 457. ' My first impression of this letter was strongly in favour of its authei.- ticity, I still allow it to stand in the text because it exists, and becans« there is no evidence, external or internal, to prove it to be a forgery. The more carefully Ihave examined the MS., however, the greater uncertainty 1 have felt about it. It is not an original. It is not an official copy. It does not appear, though here I cannot speak conclusively, to be even a cou- temporaiy copy. The onlj- guide to the dafs is the watermark on the pa- per, and m this instance tlie evidence Is indecisive, — Note to the 2d edi tion. 464 Anne Boleyn. [t^H. XI. or what to excuse, I ara altogether ignorant. Whereas Saturday 7°" s®"*^ ""*° '"^ (wUlIng [me] to confess hS^ letter to ^ truth, and to obtain your favour) by such thekmg. ^jj qjjq whom you know to be mine antient professed enemy, I no sooner conceived this message by him, than I rightly conceived your meaning ; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed raay procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty per form your comraand. " But let not your Grace ever Iraagine that your poor wife ^rill ever be brought to acknowledge a fault where not so much as a thought thereof proceeded. Never prince And to spoak a truth, never prince had wife loyal wife, morc loyal in all duty, and in all true affec tion, than you have ever found in Anne Boleyn ; with which narae and place I could wUlingly have contented rayself, if God and your Grace's pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I at any tirae so far forget my seff In my exaltation or received queenship, but that I She, iiow- always looked for such an alteration as now looked for; I find : for the ground of my preferment what now , , p i . , xi Bheftnds. bciiig OU UO surcr toundation than your Grace's fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other subject. You have chosen me from a low estate to be your queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found rae worthy of such honour, good your Grace, let not any light fancy or bad counsel of mine enemies withdraw your princely favour frora me ; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain, of a disloyal heart towards your good Grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutlfiil wife, and the infant princess, your daughter, "Try me, good king, but let me have a lawfiil 1636.] Anne Boleyn. 465 trial ; and let not my sworn enemies sit as my ac cusers and my judges; yea, let me receive she begs for an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open * '™ *''**' shame. Then shaU you see either mine innocency cleared, your suspicions and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guUt openly declared ; so that, whatsoever God or you may determine of me, your Grace may be ^,,4 jf ^^^^^ h-eed from an open censure; and mine of- HemTmay fence bemg so lawfiiUy proved, your Grace }^w wl^new is at Uberty, both before God and man, not ^'"'^- only to execute worthy punishment on rae, as an un lawful wffe, but to follow your affection already set tled on that party for whose sake I am now as I ara, whose name I could some good while since have pointed unto ; your Grace not being ignorant of my suspicion therein. " But if you have already determined of me ; and that not onlv mv death, but an infamous if her fate , , 1 ¦ 1 • • o is already slander, must brmg you the enjoying or your decided, she deshed happiness ; then I desire of God that wiu pardon 1 .11 1 • 1 • J bis great he wUl pardon your great sm therein, and sin, likewise my enemies the Instruments thereof; and that He will not call you to a strict account for your un- princely and cruel usage of me, at his general judg- raent-seat, where both you and myseff raust shortly appear ; and in whose judgment, I doubt not, whatso ever the world may think of me, raine innocence shall be openly known and sufficiently cleared, * " My last and only request shaU be, that myself may only bear the burden of your Grace's ^^^™„^^ displeasure, and that it may not touch the ^^^"^^^ innocent souls of those poor gentlemen who, *}¦* p^J*®"' as I understand, are likewise In strait impris- spared VOL. n. 30 466 Anne Boleyn. [Ch. xi. onment for my sake. If ever I have found favour in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain this request ; and I will so leave to trouble your Grace any further ; with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity, to have your Grace In his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prison in the Tower, this 6th of May. Your most loyal f.nd ever faithful wife, Anne Boleyn." ^ This letter Is most affecting ; and although It is bet ter calculated to plead the queen's cause with posterity than with the king, whom it could only exasperate, yet If it is genuine it tells (so far as such a composition can tell at all) powerfully In her favour. On the sarae page of the manuscript, carrying the same au thority, and subject to the same doubt, is a fragment of another letter, supposed to have been written sub- A second re- sequcutly, and therefore in answer to a sec- ?o^l°from oii'i invitation to confess. In this she repUed a^'windre-* again, that she could confess no more than fusai. gjjg jj^^ already spoken ; that she might con ceal nothing from the king, to whom she did acknowl edge herself so much bound for so many favours ; for raising her first from a raean woman to be a marchion ess ; next to be his queen ; and now, seeing he could bestow no further honours upon her on earth, for pur- the^qnws poslug by martyrdom to make her a saint answers not • -i o rm - t , , what it in heaven,'* 1 his answer also was unwise m hale been, poInt of worldly prudcuce ; and I am obUged ownshowtog to add, that the tone which was assumed, both 1 Burnet's Collectanea, p. 87 ; Cotton. MS. ' Stiype's Eccles. Memorials, Vol. I. Lord Bacon speaks of these irordi M a message sent by the queen on the morning of the execution. 1636.] Anne Boleyn. 467 in this and in her first letter, was unbeconing (even if she was Innocent of actual sin) In a wife who, on her own showing, was so gravely to blame. It is to be remembered that she had betrayed frora the first the king's confidence ; and, as she knew at the moment at which she was writing, she had never been legally married to him, \ Her spirits meanwhile had something rallied, though StiU riolently fluctuating, " One hour," wrote Kings- ton,i " she is determined to die, and the next hour much contrary to that," Sometimes she talked in a wild, wandering way, wondering whether Her wild , , , ¦' ,11-1 1 ^0"^^ io tbe any one made the prisoners beds, with other Tower. of those Ught trifles which women's minds dwell upon so strangely, when strained beyond their strength, " There would be no rain," she said, " till she was out of the Tower ; and If she died, they would see the greatest punishment for her that ever carae to Eng land," " And then," she added, " I shall be a saint in heaven, for I have done -many good deeds in ray days ; but I think it much unkindness In the king to put such about me as I never loved," ^ Kingston was a hard chronicler, too conrinced of the queen's guilt to feel compassion for her ; and yet these rambling fancies are as touching as Ophelia's ; and, unlike hers, are no creation of a poet's Imagination, but words once truly uttered by a poor human being In her hour of agony. Yet they proved nothing. And if her wanderings seem to breathe of innocence, they are yet compatijjple with the absence of It, We must remind ourselves that two of the prisoners had afready confessed both their own gult and hers. The queen demanded a trial ; It was not necessary 1 Kingston to Cromwell: Smger, p. 456. " Ibid. p. 457. 468 Preparations for the Trial. [Ch. xl to ask foi it. Both she and her supposed accom plices were tried with a scrupulousness without a Preparations parallel, SO far as I ara aware. In the crim inal records of the time. The substance of Necessity of , . , , . pc. . , entering into tile proceediDgs IS preserved m an omcial offensive de- ^ ,ii. > •. >.. i- tails. summary ; ^ and distressing as it is to read of such sad matters, the Importance of arriving at a fair judgment must excuse the details which will be entered into. The crime was alike hideous, whether it was the crirae of the queen or of Henry ; we may not attempt to hide from ourselves the full deformity ofit. On the 24th of AprU, then, a special commission was appointed, to try certain persons for offences com mitted at London, at Harapton Court, and at the palace at Greenwich, The offences in question hav ing been coraraitted In Middlesex and in Kent, bUls were first to be returned by the grand jm-ies of both counties. Men are apt to pass vaguely over the words "¦ a commission " or " a jury," regarding them rather as mechanical abstractions than as bodies of responsible men, I shall therefore give the list of the persons who, in these or any other capacities, were enga The names upou the trials. The special commission of the com- , , « . missioners couslsted of Sir Thomas Audeley, the lord try the chanccUor ; the Duke of Norfolk, undo of oompUces. the quecu and of Lord Rochfort ; the Duke of Suffolk, the king's brother - In - law ; the Earl of Wiltshire, the queen's father ; tbe Earls of Oxford, Westraoreland, and Sussex ; Lord Sandys ; Thomas Cromwell ; Sir WiUiam FitzwiUiam the Lord High I Bagade Secretis, pouches 8 and 9: Appendix II. to the Third Btporl cf the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records. 15J6.] True Bills found by the Grand Juries. 469 Admiral, an old raan whose career had been of the most distinguished brilliancy ; Sfr WUliara Paulet, lord treasurer, afterwards Marquis of Winchester; and, finally, the nine judges of the Courts of Westminster, Sir John Fitzjames, Sir John Baldewyn, Sir Richard Lister, Sir John Porte, Sir John Spelraan, Sir Walter Luke, Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, Sir Thomas Engle field, and Sfr WiUiam Shelley, The duty of this tribu nal was to try the four comraoners accused of adultery with the queen. She herself, with her brother. The queen would be tried by the House of Lords, Of £?o"er to the seven peers, three were her own nearest the'iiouM^of connexions ; the reraaining comraissioners ^™'*^' were those who. Individually and professionally, might have been considered competent for the conduct of the cause above all other persons in the realra. Antece dently to experience, we should not have expected that a commission so constituted would have lent itself to a conspiracy; and if foul play had been intended, we should have looked to see sorae baser Instruraents se lected for so iniquitous a purpose. In the middle of the second week in May, the grand juries had completed their work. On Wednesday, the 10th, a true bill was found at West- Truewii minster, by the oaths of GUes Heron, Esq, ; grand jury Roger More, Esq. ; Richard Awnsham, Esq, ; sex. Thomas Byllyngton, Esq, ; Gregory Lovel, . Esq, ; John Worsop, Esq, ; William Goddard, gentleman ; William Blakwall, gentleman ; John Wylford, gentle raan ; WUliam Berd, gentleman ; Henry Hubbylthorne, gentleman ; WUliam Huning, gentleman ; Robert Walys, gentleman ; John Englond, gentleman ; Hen ry Lodysman, gentleman ; and John Averey, gentle man. 470 The Indictment. [Ch. xt On the 11th a true bill was found at Deptford by Thursday, the oaths of Sir Richard Clement, Sir WU« Tr™ bVu li^™ Fynche, Sir Edward Boughton, Anthony ^and jurf" ^*- ^egcr, Esq, ; i John Cromer, Esq, ; John of Kent. pj,gg^ Esq_ . Thoraas Wylleford, Esq, ; John Norton, Esq, ; Humphrey Style, Esq, ; Robert Fisher, gentleman ; Thomas Sybbell, gentleman ; John Love lace, gentleman ; Walter Harrington, gentleman ; Ed mund Page, gentleman ; Thomas Fereby, gentleman ; and Lionel Ansty, gentleman, I am thus particular in recording the names of these jurors, before I relate the indictment which was found by them, because. If that indictment was unjust, it staraps their memory with etemal infamy; and with the judges, the coramissioners, the privy council, the king, with every living person who was a party, active or passive, to so enorftious a calurany, they must be re membered with sharae for ever. The indict- The indictment, then, found bythe grand ment. j^j.^. ^f Middlesex was to the following effect : ^ " 1, That the Lady Anne, Queen of England, hav ing been the wife of the king for the space of three years and raore, she, the said Lady Anne, contemning the raarriage so solemnized between her and the king, and bearing malice in her heart against the king, and following her frail and carnal lust, did falsely and trai torously procure, by raeans of indecent language, gifts, and other acts therein stated, divers of the king's daily 1 We shall meet him again in Ireland: he was the queen's cousin, ano man of the very highest character and abilit . The grand jury of Kent were nominated by Sir Thomas Wyatt, who was sheriff for that year. Thia is not unimportant, for Wyatt iu past times had beeu Anne's intimate friend, if not her lover. 2 The indictment found at Deptford was exactly similar; referring to other acta of the same kind, committed by the same persons at Greenwich. 1536.] The Indictment. 471 and familiar servants to be her adulterers and concu bines ; so that several of the king's servants, by the said queen's most vile provocation and invitation, be came given and inclined to the said queen, " 2, That the queen [on the] 6th of October, 25 Hen, VIII, [1533], at Westrainster, by words, &c., procured and incited one Henry Norris, Esq,, one of the gentlemen of the king's privy chamber, to have illicit intercourse with her ; and that the act was com mitted at Westminster, 12th October, 25 Hen, VIII, "3, That the queen, 2nd of November, 27 Hen, VIII, [1535], by the means therein stated, procured and incited George Boleyn, knight. Lord Rochfort, her own natural brother, to have illicit intercourse with her; and that the act was comraitted 6tli of November In the same year, at Westminster, against the commands of Almighty God, and all laws huraan and dirine. " 4, That the queen, 3rd December, 25 Hen, VIII,, procured and Incited William Brereton, Esq,, one of the gentlemen of the king's privy chamber, to have UUcit intercourse with her; and that the act was committed at Hampton Court, 25th December, 25 Hen. VIII, " 5, That the queen, 8th of May, 26 Hen, VIII,, procured and incited Francis Weston, one of the gen tlemen of the king's privy chamber, to have illicit in tercourse with her ; and that the act was coraraitted at Westminster, 20th May, 26 Hen, VIII, « 6, That the queen, 12th of AprU, 26 Hen, VIII,, procured and incited Mark Smeton, Esq,, one of the grometers of the king's chamber, to have illicit Inter course with her ; and that the act was committed at Westminster, 26th April, 26 Henry VHI, 472 The Indictment. [Ch. xi. " 7, Furthermore, that the said George, Lord Roch fort, Henry Norris, William Brereton, Sir Francis Weston, and Mark Smeton, being thus inflamed by carnal love of the queen, and having become very jealous of each other, did, in order to secure hei af fections, satisfy her inordinate desires ; and that the queen was equaUy jealous of the Lord Rochfirt and other the before-mentioned traitors ; and she woidd not allow them to show any famUiarity with any other woman, without her exceeding displeasure and indig nation ; and that on the 27th day of November, 27 Hen, VIII,, and other days, at Westminster, she gave them gifts and great rewards, to inveigle them to her will, " 8, Furthermore, that the queen, and other the said traitors, jointly and severally, 31st of October, 27 Hen, VIII,, and at various times before and after, compassed and iraagined the king's death ; and that the queen had fi-equently promised to marry some one of the traitors, whenever the king should depart this Iffe, affirraing she never would love the king in her heart. " 9. Furthermore, that the king, having within a short time before becorae acquainted with the before- mentioned crimes, vices, and treasons, had been so grieved that certain harms and dangers had happened to his royal body." ^ I suppose that persons who have made up thefr minds conclusively, and are resolved to abide by the popular verdict of English historians, will turn with disgust from these hideous charges ; seeming, as they do, to overstep all ordinary bounds of credibility. On one side or the other there was indeed no common I Baga de Secretis, pouch 9. 1536.] The Indictment. 473 guUt, The colours deepen at every step. But It is to be remembered that if the improbability of rp^^ hnprob- crimes so revolting is becoming greater, the queen-6''^iit opposite . improbabUity increases with equal ^obabtii^" strength — that English noblemen and gen- "'y^gSf" tlemen could have made themselves a party fn'the'samB to the Invention of the story. For invention "''"¦ is unfortunately the only word ; would indeed that any other were adraissible ! The discovery of the Indict ment disposes at once of Burnet's legend, that the queen was condemned on hearsay evidence ; or that her guUt was conjectured from an exaggerated report of foolish conversations. It cuts off all hope, too, of possible mistake, I have heard the narae of uj^j^ j^ „„ Leontes mentioned as a paraUel to Henry; i^°^the'b'* and if the question lay only between the king "f^Jstake. and his wffe, we would gladly welcome the alternative. Charity would persuade us that a husband had been madly blind, sooner far than that a queen had been madly wicked. But this road for escape is closed. The mistake of Leontes was transparent to The parallel . ^ , of Leontes every eye but his own, ihe charges against suggested, A tV 1 111 but not ad- Anne boleyn were presented by two grand missiWe. juries before the highest judicial tribunal In the realm. There was nothing vague, nothing conjectural. The detail was given of acts and conversations stretching over a period of two years and more ; and either there was eridence for these things, or there was none. If theie was eridence, it must have been close, elaborate, and minute ; If there was none, these judges, these juries and noblemen, were the accomplices of the king m a murder perhaps the most revolting which was ever committed. It may be thought that the evidence was pieced 474 The Indictment. [Ch.xl together in ' the secrets of the cabinet ; that the juries Thediffleui- found thefr bUls on a case presented to them ties in the jj^ ^^ councU, Thls would transfer the in- Wtty Ol 6up* ¦/ S^cuaiuoL f^™y to a higher stage ; but if we try to im- forgsd. agine how the council proceeded in such a business, we shall not find It an easy task. The councU, at least, could not have been deceived. The eridence, whatever it was, must have been exarained by them ; and though we stretch our belief in the complacency of statesmen to the fiirthest limit of credulity, can we believe that Cromwell would have invented that dark indictment, — CromweU who was, and who remained till his death, the dearest friend of Latimer ? Or the Duke of Norfolk, the veteran who had won his spurs at Flodden ? Or the Duke of Suffolk and Sfr WUUam FitzwiUiam, the Wellington and the Nelson of the six teenth century ? Scarcely among the picked scoun drels of Newgate could men be found for such work ; and shall we believe it of men like these ? It is to me impossible. Yet, If it was done at all? It was done by those four ministers. Even if we could believe that they forged the accu sations, yet they would at least, limit the dimensions of them. The most audacious villain will not extend his To what crimes bevond what he requires for his object ; purpose the ,, , ,, muitipiioa- and ff the king desfred onlv to rid himself of tion of of- , , ,„ *? •' , , , ,, , fences, and bis witc, to what purposc the multiplication of offenders ? of offenders, and the long list of acts of guilt, when a single offence with the one accomplice who was ready to abide by a confession would have suf ficed ? The four gentlemen gratuitously, on this hypothesis, entangled In the indictment, were nobly connected : one of them. Lord Rochfort, was himseff » peer ; they had lived, aU four, several years at the 1636.] The Indictment. 475 court, and were personally known to every member of the councU, Are we to suppose that evidence was invented with no Imaginable purpose, for wanton and needless murders ? — that the council risked the suc cess of their scheme, by multiplying charges which only increased difliculty of proof, and provoked the interference of the powerfiil relations of the accused ? ^ 1 Sir Fraucis Bryan, the queen's cousin, was at first suspected. He was absent from the court, and received a message from Cromwell to appeal instantly on his allegiance. The following extract is from the Deposition of the Abbot of Wobum — MS. Cotton. Cleopatra, E iv. : " The said abbot remembereth that at the fall of Queen Anne, whom God pardon. Master Bryan, being in the country, was suddenly sent for by the Lord Privy Seal, as the said Master Bryan afterwards shewed me, charging him upou his allegiance to come to him wheresoever he was within this realm upon the sight of his letter, and so he did with all speed. And at his next repair to Ampthill, I came to visit him there, at what time the Lord Grey of Wilton, with many other men of worship, was with hira m the great court at Ampthill aforesaid. And at my coming iu at the outer gate Master Bryan perceived me, and of his much gentleness came towards meeting me ; to whom I said, ' Now welcome home and never so welcome.' He, astonished, said unto me, ' Why so ? ' The said abbot said, ' Sir, I shall shew you that at leisure,' and walked up into the great chamber with the men of worship. And after a pause it pleased him to sit dowu upon a bench and willed me to sit by him, and after that demanded of me what 1 meant when I said, * Never so welcome as then ; ' to whom I said thus: ' Sir, Almighty God in his first creation made an order of angels, and among all made one principal, which was the , who would not be content with his estate, but affected the celsitude and rule of Creator, for the which he was divested fi'om the altitude of heaven into the profundity of hell into everlasting darkness, without repair or return, with those that consented unto his pride. So it now lately befell in this our worldly hierarchy of the court by the fall of Queen Anne as a worldly Lu cifer, not content with her estate to be true unto her creator, making her his queen, but affected unlawful concupiscence, fell suddenly out of that felicity wherein she was set, irrecoverably with all those that consented unto her lust, whereof 1 am glad that ye were never ; and, therefore, now welcome and never so welcome, here is the end of my tale.' And then he said unto me : ' Sir, indeed, as you say, I was suddenly sent for, marvel ling thereof and debating the matter in my mind why this shonld be; at the last I considered and knew myself true and clear in conscience unto my prmce, and with all speed aud without fear [hastily set] me forward aud eame to my Lord Privy Seal, aud after that to the King's Grace, and noth ing fonnd in me, nor never shall be, but just and true to my master the King's Grace.' And then I said ' Benedjctus, but this was a marvelloua 476 The Trials. [Ch. xi Such are the difficulties in which, at this early stage of the transaction, we are afready implicated. They will not dirainish as we proceed, Friday, the 12th of May, was fixed for the opening Friday o^ ^^ court. On that day, a petty jury was Thecmirt returned at Westrainster, for the trial of Sir opens. Henry Norris, Sfr Francis Weston, Sir WU liam Brereton, and Mark Smeton, The commission sat. — the Earl of WUtshire sitting with them,^ — and the The four ^'our prisoncrs were brought to the bar. On are'taought their arraignment, Mark Smeton, we are told, tothe bar. pleaded guUty of adultery with the queen; not guilty of the other charges, Norris, Weston, and A petty jury Brerctou scvcraUy pleaded not guilty, Ver- returnaver- mi , • , i diet of guilty, dict, guilty, Ihc king s sergeant and attor ney pray judgraent. Judgment upon Smeton, Norris, Weston, and Brereton as usual in cases of high treason. This is all which the record contains. The nature of the evidence is not mentioned. But again there was a jury ; and if we have not the evidence which conrinced that jury, we have the evidence that they were, or pro fessed to be, convinced. The queen and her brother were to be tried on the following Monday. Thefr crime was not adultery only, but was coloured with the deeper stain of Incest. On the Friday, while the other prisoners were at the bar, peremptory commandment,' said I, ' and would have astonished the wises.*. mau in this realm.' And he said, ' What then, he must needs do his master's commandment, and I assure you there never was a man wi^.' to order the king's causes than he is; I pray God save his life.' " The language both of Sir Francis Bryan and the abbot is irreconcileable with any other supposition, except that they at least were satisfied of the queen's guilt. 1 Baga de Secretis, pouch 8. The discovery of these papers sets at rest the controversy whether the Earl of Wiltshire took part in the trial. He was absent at the trial of his children ; he was present at the trial of the other prisoners. 1536.] The Trials. 477 " Letters patent were addressed to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, Treasurer and Earl Marshal of England, set ting fortli that the Lady Anne,, Queen of England, and Sir George Boleyn, knight. Lord Rochfort, had been indicted of certain capital crimes ; and that the king, considering that justice was a most excellent virtue, and pleasing to the Most Highest ; and inasmuch as tiie office of High Steward of England, whose presence for the administration of the law in this case The Duke of , ,-,.-, o Norfolk is is required, was vacant, the king therefore named Lo-.-d appointed the said duke Lord High Steward ard. of England, with full powers to receive the indictments found against Queen Anne and the Lord Rochfort, and calling them before hira, for the purpose of hearing and examining them, and compeUing thera to answer thereto," The duke was to collect also " such and so many lords, peers, and raagnates of the kingdom of England, peers of the said Queen Anne and Lord Rochfort, by whom the truth could be better known ; and the truth being known, to give judgment accord ing to the laws and custoras of England, and to give sentence and judgment, and to direct execution, with the other usual powers," ^ As a certain nuraber only of the peers were summoned. It may be imagined that some fi-aud was practised in the selection, and that those only were admitted whose subserriency could be reUed upon, I will therefore give the names as before The two English Dukes, of Norfolk and Suffolk,' The one English Marquis, of Exeter, The Listofpeeri Earls of Arundel, Oxford, Northumberland to try the (the queen's early lover), Westmoreland, herbrother. Derby, Worcester, Rutiand, Sussex, and Huntingdon ' Baga de Secretis, pouch 9. ^ The Duke of Richmond was under age. 478 The Triak [Ch.xi all the earls in the peerage except four — those of Shrewsbury, Essex, Cumberland, and Wiltshire, Why the first three were omitted I do not know. Lord WUtshfre had already fulfilled his share of the mis erable duty ; he was not compelled to play the part of Bi-utus, and condemn, in person, his two children. The remaining peers were the Lords Audeley, De la Ware, Montague, Morley, Dacre, Cobhara, Maltravers, Powis, Mounteagle, Clinton, Sandys, Windsor, Went worth, Burgh, and Mordaunt : twenty-seven in all : raen hitherto of unblemished honour — the noblest blood in the realm, Monday, Thcsc noblcmen assembled in fhe Tower Siuntof on the 15th of May, The queen was brought the 81^*56 hefore them; and the record In the Baga de Secretis. Sccrctis relates the proceeding as follows : — " Before the Lord High Steward at the Tower, Anne, Queen of England, comes In the custody of Sfr Williara Kingston, Constable of the Tower, and is brought to the bar. Being arraigned of the before- mentioned treasons, she pleads not guilty, and puts herself upon her peers ; whereupon the Duke of Suf folk, Marquis of Exeter, and others the before-mentioned earls and barons, peers of the said queen, being charged by the said Lord High Steward to say the truth, and afterwards being examined severaUy by the Lord High Steward, from the lowest peer to the highest, each of thera severally saith that she is guilty, " Judgraent — that the queen be taken by the said The queen is Coiistable back to the king's prison within Sn-"""' the Tower ; and then, as the king shall com- burafd*?*' mand, be brought to the green within the said the ktagV Tower, and there burned or beheaded, as shaU pleasure. pjg^gg ^^^ J^j^^g „ 1 1 Baga de Secretis, pouch 9. 1636.] The Trials. 479 Ir such cold lines Is the story of this tragedy unroll ing Itseff to its close. The course which it followed, however, was less hard in the actual life ; and raen's liearts, even in those stern tiraes, could beat with hu man emotions. The Duke of Norfolk was in tears as he passed sentence,^ The Earl of Northumberland " was obliged by a sudden Ulness to leave the court," ^ The sight of the woman whora he had once loved, and to whom he was perhaps married, in that dreadful position, had been more than he could bear ; and the remainder of the work of the day went forward with out him. The queen withdrew. Her brother took his place at the bar. Like Anne, be declared himself Lord Roch- T M A 1 o -I '1 f**'*' found innocent. Like Anne, he was tound guilty, guuty also and sentenced to die,^ 1 Constautyne, Archceologia, Vol. XXIII. p. 66. 2 Baga de Secretis, When the Pilgrimage of Grace broke out four months later, Northumberland was the only nobleman in the power of the insurgents who refused to join iu the rebellion. They threatened to kill him ; but " at that and all times the earl was very earnest against the commons in the king's behalf and the Lord Privy Seal's." — Confession of William Stapleton: RoUs Bouse MS. A 2, 2. See Vol. IIL ofthis word chap. xiii. ' I know not whether I should here add the details which Meteren gives of these trials. His anthority, a Flemish gentleman, was in Loudon at the time, but was not present in the court. The Lord of Milherve {that was this gentleman's name) was persuaded that the queen was unjustly accused, and he worked out of the rumours which he heard an interesting picture, touched with natural sympathy. It has beeu often repeated, however. II may be read elsewhere ; and as an authority it is but of faint importance. If we allow it its fullest weight, it proves that a foreigner then in England believed the queen innocent, and that she defended herself with au elo quence which deeply touched her hearers. His further assertion, that " Smeton's confession was all which was alleged " against her, is certainly inaccurate; and his complaint, which has beeu so often echoed, of the absence of witnesses, implies only a want of knowledge of the forms which were observed in trials for high treason. The witnesses were not brought into court and confronted with the prisoner : their depositions were taken on oath before the grand juries and the privy council, and on the trial were lead out for tbe accused to answer as they could. 480 The opposite Probabilities. [Ch. xi, We can form no estimate of the evidence ; for we do not know what it was. We cannot especially accuse the form of the trial ; for it was the form which was always observed. But the fact remains to us, that these twenty- seven peers, who were not ignorant, as we are, but were fiilly acquainted with the grounds of the prosecu tion, did deliberately, after hearing the queen's defence, pronounce against her a unanimous verdict. If there was foul play, they had advantages infinitely greater than any to which we can pretend for detecting it, Thc Boleyns were unpopular, and Anne herself was obnox ious to the iraperialists and Catholics ; but all parties. Catholic and Protestant alike, united In the sentence. Looking at the case, then, as it now stands, we have the report for some time current, that the queen was out of favour, and that the king's affection was turned in another direction, — a report, be It observed, which had arisen before the catastrophe, and was not, there fore, an afterthought, or legend ; we have also the an tecedent improbability, which is very great, that a lady in the queen's position could have been guilty of the offences with which the indictment charges her. We have also the iraprobability, which is great, that the king, now forty-four years old, who in his earlier years had been distinguished for the absence of those vices in which conteraporary princes indulged theraselves, in wanton weariness of a woraan for whom he had revolutionized the kingdom, and quarrelled with half Christendom, suddenly resolved to murder her ; that, instead of resorting to poison, or to the less obtrusive methods of crlralnallty, he invented, and persuaded his council to assist him in inventing, a series of accusations which reflected dishonour on himself, and which In volved the gratuitous death of five persons with whom 1536.] The opposite Probabilities. 481 he had no quarrel, who were attached to his court and person. To maintain these accusations, he would have to overawe into an active participation in his crime, I'udges, juries, peers, the dearest relations of those whom he was destroying, and this with no standing army, no prffitorians or janissaries at his back, with no force but the yeomen of the guard, who could be scattered by a rising of the apprentices. He had gone out of his way, moreover, to call a parliament ; and the summons had been so hasty that no time was left to control the elec tions ; while again to fail was ruin ; and the generation of Englishmen to whom we owe the Reformation were not so wholly lost to all principles of honour, j,,,^ popular that Henry could have counted beforehand 'yon'^/n^ upon success in so desperate a scheme with '='^'='i*'e. that absolute certainty without which he would scarcely have risked the experiment, I think that there is some improbabihty here. Unlikely as it is that queens should disgrace themselves, history contains unfortunately more than one instance that it is not impossible. That queens in that veiy age were capable of profligacy was proved, but a few years later, by the confessions of Catherine Howard, I believe history wUl be ransacked vainly to find a parallel for conduct at once so dastardly, sc audacious, and so foolishly wicked as that which the Jiopular hypothesis attributes to Henry VIII, This is a fair statement of the probabilities ; not, 1 believe, exaggerated on either side. Turning to the positive facts which are known to us, we have The facts lo ,.,,«, , fit^ourofthe amongst those which make tor the queen her queen. own denial of her guilt ; her supposed letter to the king, which wears the complexion of innocence; the assertions of three out of the five other persons who were accused, up to the moment of thefr execution; VOL. II. 31 482 Execution of the five Gentlemen. [Ch. XL and the sympathizing story of a Flemish gentleman who believed her innocent, and who says that many other people in England believed the sarae. On the other side, we have the judicial verdict of raore than seventy noblemen and gentlemen,^ no one of whom had any interest in the deaths of the accused, and seme The fiicts of whora had Interests the most tender in their against her. acquIttal ; we havc the assent of the judges who sat on the coraraission, and who passed sentence, after full opportunities of exaraination, with all the evi dence before their eyes ; tne partial confession of one ofthe prisoners, though afterwards withdrawn ; and the coraplete confession of another, raaintained till the end, and not withdrawn upon the scaffold. Mr, Hallam raust pardon me for saying that this is not a matter in which doubt is unpermitted, A brief interval only was allowed between the judg- wednesday, racut and the final close. On Wednesday, Theexecu- the 17th, the five gentleraen were taken to tionofthefiye • o gentlemen, exccution, bmcton was hanged; the others were beheaded, Smeton and Brereton acknowledged the justice of their sentence, Brereton said that if he had to die a thousand deaths, he deserved them all ; and Brereton was the only one of the five whose guUt at the time was doubted.^ Norris died silent ; Weston, with a few general lamentations on the wickedness of his past Ufe, None denied the crime for which they 1 Two granl juries, the petty jury, and the twenty-seven peers. 2 Constaiityne's Memor., Archaeol., Vol. XXIU. pp. 63-66. Constau tyne was an attendant of Sir Henry Noiris at this time, and a friend and school-fellow of Sir W. Brereton. He was a resolute Protestant, and he says that at first he and all other friends of the gospel were unable to believe that the queen had behaved so abominably. " As I may be saved before God," he says, " I could not believe it, afore I heard them e peak at their death." .... But on the scaffold, he adds, " In a manner all «n fessed but Mr. Norris, who said almost nothing at all." 1536.] Execution of the five Gentlemen. 483 suffered ; all but one were considered by the spectators to have confessed, Rochfort had shown sorae feeling while In the Tower, Kingston on one occasion found him weeping bitterly. The day of the trial he sent a petition to the king, to what effect I do not learn ; and on the Tuesday he begged to see Crorawell, having something on his conscience, as he said, which he wished to tell him,'^ His desfre, however, does not seem to have been complied with ; he spoke sorrowfully on the scaffold of the sharae which he had brought upon the gospel, and died with words which appeared to the spectators, ff not a confession, yet something very nearly resembling It, " This said lord," wrote a spectator to the court at Brussels, " made a good Catholic address to the people. He said that he had not come there to preach to them, but rather to serve as a mirror and an example. He acknowledged the crimes which he had committed against God, and against the king his sover eign ; there was no occasion for hira, he said, to repeat the cause for which he was condemned ; they would have little pleasure in hearing hira tell it. He prayed God, and he prayed the king, to pardon his offences ; and all others whom he raight have injured he also prayed to forgive him as heartily as he forgave every one. He bade his hearers avoid the vanities of the world, and the flatteries of the court which had brought him to the shameful end which had overtaken hira. Had he obeyed the lessons of that gospel which he had so often read, he said he should not have fallen so far ; it was worth more to be a good doer than a good reader. Finally, he forgave those who had adjudged him to die, and he desired them to pray God for his soul," ^ 1 Kingston to Cromwell : Singer, p. 459. 2 The Pilgrim : Appendix, p. 116. 484 The Divorce. [Ch. xi The queen was left till a further mystery had per- inne Boleyn plcxcd yct deeper the disgraceful exposure. cra^m°S *" Henry had desired Cranmer to be her con- nevertoen' fcssor. The archblshop was with her on the married to day after her trial,-' and she then raade an ex- theking. traordiiiary avowal,^ either that she had been married or contracted In early life, or had been entan gled in some connexion which invalidated her marriage with the king. The letter to the emperor, which I have already quoted,^ furnishes the solitary explanation of the raystery which reraains, Sorae one, apparently the imperial ambassador, informed Charles that she was discovered to have been nine years before raarried to Lord Percy, not formally only, but really and com pletely. If this be true, her fate need scarcely excite further sympathy. On Wednesday she was taken to Larabeth, where she made her confession In forra, and the archbishop, sitting judicially, pronounced her marriage with the king to have been null and void. The supposition, that this business was a freak of caprice or passion, is too puerile to be considered. It is certain that she acknowl edged something ; and it is certain also fhat Lord Northumberland was exarained upon the subject before the archbishop. In person upon oath indeed, and also in a letter to Cromwell, Northumberland denied that he had ever been legally connected with her ; but per- 1 Kingston to Cromwell ; and see Constantyne's Memorial. 2 " Now of late, God, of his infinite goodness, fi'om whom no secret thicgs can be hid, hath caused to be brought to light, evident and open knowledge of certain just, true, and lawful impediments, unknown at the making of the said acts [by which the marriage had been declared legiti mate], and since that time confessed by the Lady Anne, .bv the which it plainly appeareth that the said marriage was never good nor consonant to the laws." — 28 Henry VIII. cap. 7. See also the appendix to the fourth volume of this work. s Vol. I pp. 175. 176, 1536.] The Divorce. 485 haps Northumberland was afraid to make an admission BO dangerous to liimself, or perhaps the confession itself was a vague effort which she raade to save her life.-" But whatever she said, and whether she spoke truth or falsehood, she was pronounced divorced, Tbeineenia and the divorce did not save lier,^ Friday, divorcod" the 19th, was fixed for her death ; and when she found that there was no hope she recovered her spirits. The last scene was to be on the green inside the Tower. The public were to be admitted ; but Kingston sug gested that to avoid a crowd it was desirable not to fix the hour, since it was supposed that she would make no further confession, " This morning she sent for me," he added, " that I might be with her at such time as she re- Thursday, ceived the good Lord, to the intent that I Kingston's should hear her speak as touching her inno- her conduct cency always to be clear, ' Mr, Kingston,' Tower. she said, ' I hear say I shall not die afore noon, and I am very sorry therefore, for I thought to be dead by this time, and past my pain,' I told her it should be no pain, it was so subtle ; and then she said, ' I heard say the executioner was very good, and I have a Uttle neck,' and put her hands about it, laughing heartily, I have seen raany men, and also women, executed, and they have been in great sorrow ; and to my knowledge, this lady hath much joy and pleasure in death," 3 1 On the day on which she first saw the archbishop, she said,Jpt dinner, that she expected to be spared, and that she would retire to Antwerp. — Kuigston to Cromwell : Singer, p. 460. ^ Burnet raises a dilemma here. If, he says, the queen was not married to the king, there was no adultery ; and the sentence of death and the sen tence of divorce mutually neutralize each other. It is possible that in the general horror at so complicated a delinquency, the technical defence was overlooked. • Kinaston to Cromwell: Singer, p 461. 486 The Execution. [Ch. xl We are very near the terraination of the tragedy, Friday, A little bcforc noon on the 19th of May, Tower ' Auuc Bolcyu, Quecu of England, was led Green at , a-i i i noon. down to the green, A single cannon stood loaded on the battleraents ; the raotionless cannoneer was ready, with smoking linstock, to tell London that all was over. The yeomen of the guard were there, and a crowd of citizens ; the lord mayor in his robes, the deputies of the guilds, the sheriffs, and the alder men ; they were corae to see a spectacle which Eng land had never seen before — a head which had worn the crown falUng under the sword of an executioner. On the scaffold, by the king's desire, there were The scaffold proscnt Crorawell, the Lord Chancellor, the Bo°i prXnf Duke of Suffolk, and lastly, the Duke of Rlch- upon It. mond, who raight now, when both his sisters were illegitimized, be considered heir presuraptive to the throne. As in the choice of the commission, as in the conduct of the trial, as in the summons of parlia ment, as in every detail through which the cause was passed, Henry had shown outwardly but one desire to do all which the most strict equity prescribed, so around this last scene he had placed those who were nearest In blood to himself, and nearest in rank to the crown. If she who was to suffer was falling under a forged charge, he acted his part with horrible com pleteness. The queen appeared walking feebly, supported oy the Lieutenant of the Tower. She seeraed half stiipi- The queen's ^^^i and lookcd back from time to time at the last words, jg^jj^g y^^ ^^y^^,^ gj^^ ^^^ followed. On reach ing the platform, she asked if she might say a few words ; ^ and perraission being granted, she turned to 1 Letter of to . The Pilgrim, p. 116. 1536.] The Execution. 487 the spectators and said : " Christian people, I am come to die. And according to law, and by law, I am judged to death ; and therefore I wUl speak nothing against it, I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die. But I pray God save the king, and send him long to reign over you ; for a gentler and more mercifiil prince was there never ; and to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. If any person wiU meddle of my cause, I require him to judge the best. And thus I take ray leave of the world and of you ; and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. Oh, Lord, have mercy on me, Tc God I commend my soul," ^ " These words," says Stow, " she spoke with a smiling countenance," She wore an ermine cloak which was then taken off. She her seff removed her headdress, and one of her attendants gave her a cap into which she gathered her hair. She then knelt, and breathing faintly a commendation of her soul to Christ, the executioner with a single blow struck off her head, A white handkerchief was thrown over it as It fell, and one of the ladies took it up and canied it away. The other woraen lifted the body and bore it into the Chapel of the Tower, where it was buried in the choir,^ Thus she too died without denying the crime for which she suffered, Sraeton confessed from the first. Brereton, Weston, Rochfort, virtuaUy confessed on the scaffold, Norris said nothing. Of all the sufferers not one ventured to declare that he or she was inno cent, — and that six human beings should leave the 1 Wyatt's Memoirs, Hall, Stow, Constantyne's Me-morial. There ie some little variation in the different accounts, but none of importance. 2 Pilgrim, p. 116. 488 The Succession. [Ch.xl world with the undeserved stain of so odious a charge on them, without atterapting to clear themselves, is credible only to thos,3 who form opinions by their wills, and believe or disbelieve as they choose. To this end the queen had corae at last, and silence is the best comment which charity has to offer upon it. Better far it would have been if the dust had been allowed to settle down over the grave of Anne BolejTi, and her reraerabrance buried in forgetfulness. Strange it is that a spot which ought to have been sacred to pity, should have been made the arena for the blind wres tling of controversial duellists. Blind, I call it ; for there has been little clearness of judgraent, little even of cora raon prudence In the choice of sides. If the Catholics could have fastened the stain of raurder on the king and the statesmen of England, they would have struck the faith pf the establishraent a harder blow than by a poor tale of scandal against a weak, erring, suffering woraan : and the Protestants, in mistaken generosity, have courted an infaray for the names of those to whora they owe their being, which, staining the foun tain, raust stain for ever the stream which flows from It, It has been no pleasure to me to rake among the evU memories of the past, to prove a huraan being sinful whora the world has ruled to have been innocent. Let the blarae rest with those who have forced upon our history the alternative of a reassertion of the truth, or the shame of noble naraes which have not deserved it at our hands. No sooner had the result of the trial appeared to be Fresh per- ccitaiu, than the prospects of the succession the"uccffl- to the throne were seen to be raore perplexed ¦'°°' than ever. The prince so earnestiy longed fpr had not been born. The disgrace of Anne Boleyn, even 1536.] The Succession. 489 before her last confession, strengthened the friends of the Princess Mary, Elizabeth, the child of a doubtful marriage which had terminated in adultery and incest, would have had slight chance of being raaintained, even if her birth had suffered no further stain ; and by the Lambeth sentence she was literally and le- Elizabeth , • rm TT-' p ct 1 1 now illegiti- gally illegitimate. The King of Scotland mate. was now the nearest heir ; and next to hira stood Lady Margaret Douglas, his sister, who had been bom in England, and was therefore looked upon with better favour by the people. As if to raake confusion worse confounded, in the raidst of the uncertainty Lord Thomas Howard, taking advantage of the Lord Thomas , ' ° o ^ . • -I Howard and moment, and, as the act ot his attainder LadyMar- says,i "being seduced by the devil, and not Douglas. having the fear of God before his eyes," persuaded this lady into a contract of marriage with him ; " The pre sumption being," says the sarae act, " that he aspired to the crown by reason of so high a raarriage ; or, at least, to the raaking division for the sarae ; having a firm hope and trust that the subjects of this realm ^ would incline and bear affection to the said Lady Margaret, be ing born in this realm ; and not to the King of Scots, her brother, to whom this realm hath not, nor ever had, any affection ; but would resist his attempt to the crown of this realm to the uttermost of their powers." ^ _ Before the discovery of this proceeding, but in an ticipation of ineritable intrigues of the kind, the privy council and the peers, on the same grounds^ which had before led thera to favour the divorce frora Cath erine, petitioned the king to save the country from the 1 28 Hen. vm. cap. 24. ^ This paragraph is of great importance : it throws a light on many jf Bie most perplexing passages in this and the succeeding reigns. « 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 24 490 The King's Third Marriage. [Cu. XL perils which menaced It, and to take a fresh wife with- The councU out an hour's delay. Henry's experience of and tbe peers , , i , i • • ^i ,. urge the king matrimouy had been so discouraging, that re-marriage. tbey feared he might be reluctant to ven ture upon It again. Nevertheless, for his cour.try's sake, they trusted that he would not refuse,^ Henry, professedly in obedience to this request, -nas He marries married, iramediately after the execution, moM. ^ to Jane, daughter of Sir John Seymour, The indecent haste Is usually considered a proof entirely conclusive of the cause of Anne Boleyn'f ruin,^ Under any aspect it was an extraordinary step, which requires to be gravely considered, Henry, who waited seven years for Anne Boleyn, to whom he was riolently attached, was not without control over his passions ; and if appetite had been the raoving influ ence with him, he would scarcely, with the eyes of all the world upon him, have passed so extravagant an insult upon the nation of which he was the sovereign. If Jane Seymour had really been the object of a pre- 1 Speech of the Lord Chancellor : Lords' Journals, p. 84. Statutes of the Realm ; 28 Henry VIII, cap. 7. Similarly, on the death of Jane Seymour, the council urged immediate re-marriage on the king, considering a single prince an insufficient security for the future. In a letter of Cromwell's to the English ambassador at Paris, on ihe day of Jane Seymour's death, there is the following passage : " And forasmuch as, though his Majesty is not anything disposed to marry again — albeit his Highness, God be thanked, taketh tMs chance as a man that by reason with force overcometh his affections may take such an extreme adventure — yet as sundry of his Grace's council here have tlu.'jght it meet for us to be most humble suitors to his Majesty to consider tbe state of his realm, and to enter eftsoons into another matrimony: so his tender zeal to us his subjects hath already so much overcome his Grace's said disposition, and framed his mind both to be indifferent to the thing ard to the election of any person from any part that, with delibera tion, shall be thought meet for him, that we live in hope that his Grace piS again couple himself to our comforts." — State Papers, Vol. VHI. p 1 2 Burnet, Hmne, Strickland, &c. There is au absolute consensus of la thorities 1536.] Opinions of Foreign Courts. 491 vious unlawful attachraent, her conduct in accepting so instantly a position so frightfully raade vacant, can scarcely be pamted In too revolting colours. Yet Jane Seymour's name, at horae and abroad, by Catholic and Protestant, was alike honoured and respected, Araong all Henry's wives she stands out distinguished by a stainless name, untarnished with the breath of re proach. If we could conceive the English nation so tongue- tied that they dared not whisper their feelings, there were Brussels, Paris, Rorae, where the truth could be told ; yet, with the exception of a single passage in a letter of Mary of Hungary,^ there is no hint in the correspondence, either in Paris, Simancas, or Brussels, that there was a suspicion of foul play. If Charles or Francis had believed Henry really capable of so deep atrocity, no political temptation would have induced either of them to corarait their cousins or nieces to the embrace of a monster, yet no sooner was Jane Seyraour dead, than we shall find thera corapeting eagerly with each other to secure his hand. It is quite possible that when Anne Boleyn was growing licentious, the king raay have distinguished a' lady of acknowledged excellence by sorae in no way 1 " The king has, I understand, already married another woman, who, *hey say, is a good Imperialist. I know not whether she will so continue. i5e had shown an inclination for her before the other's death ; and is neither that other herself, nor any of the rest who were put to death, confessed their guilt, except one who was a musician, some people think he invented the charge to get rid of her. However it be, no great wrong can 1 ave beer. done to the woman herself. She is known to have been a worthless person. It has been her character for a long time. * " I suppose, if one may speak so lightly of such things, that when he is tired of liis new wife he will find some occasion to quit himself of her alao Our sex will not be too well satisfied if these practices come into vogue ; end, though I have no fancj- to expose myself to danger, yet, being a woman, lwill pray with the rest that God will have mercy onus." — Tlie Pilgrim, p. 117. 492 Meetir,^ of Parliament. [Cu. xi. improper preference, and that when desired by the council to choose a wife iraraedlately, he should have taken a person as unlike as possible to the one who had disgraced hira. This was the interpretation which was given to his conduct by the Lords and Commons of England, In the absence of smj evidence, or shadow of evidence, that araong contemporaries who had means of knowing the truth, another judgment was passed upon it, the deliberate assertion of an act of parliament must be considered a safer guide than modern unsupported conjecture, ^ This raatter having been accorapUshed, the king re- junes turned to London to meet parliament. The meets. Houscs assembled on the 8th of June ; the peers had hastened up in unusual numbers, as if sen sible of the greatness of the occasion. The Commons were untried and unknown ; and if Anne Boleyn was an innocent victim, no king of England was ever in so terrible a position as Henry VIII, when he entered the Great Charaber fresh frora his new bridal. He took his seat upon the throne ; and then Audeley, the Lord ChanceUor, rose and spoke : ^ " At the dissolution of the late parliaraent, the King's The Lord Hlghncss had not thought so soon to meet S'eecr»t°ae JOU hcrc again. He has called you together opemng. now, being raoved thereunto by causes of grave moment, affecting both his own person and the Thesuccea- Interests of the coraraonwealth. You will Bion must be , , , , reconsidered, havc again to cousidcr the succession to the 1 Within four months the northern counties were in arms. Castle and cottage and village pulpit rang with outcries against the government. Yet, in the countless reports of the complaints of the insurgents, there is no hint of a suspicion of foul play in the late tragedy. If the criminality of the king .* self-evident to ns, how could it have been less than evident to .4ske and Lord Darcy 1 2 Lords' Journals, p. 84. 1536.] Speech of the Lord Chancellor. 493 crown of this realm. His Highness knows hiraself to be but mortal, liable to fall sick, and to die.i At pres ent he perceives the peace and welfare of the kingdom to depend upon his single life ; and he is anxious to leave it, at his death, free from peril. He desires you therefore to nominate some person as his heir Amithekinj apparent, who, should it so befall him (which paruamen° God forbid ! ) to depart out ofthis world witii- heirappw" out children lawfully begotten, raay rule in '"'• peace over this land, with the consent and thc good wHl of the inhabitants thereof, " You wUl also deliberate upon the repeal of a cer tain act passed in the late parliaraent, by which the realm is bound to obedience to the Lady Anne Boleyn, late wife of tbe king, and tbe heirs lawfully begotten of them twain, and which declares all persons who shall, by word or deed, have offended against this lady or her offspring, to have incurred the penalties of treason, " These are the causes for which you are assembled ; and if you will be advised by me, you will act ,^^^ lo^j in these matters according to the words of aS'^to th. Solomon, with whom our raost gracious king H""^"^- may deservedly be corapared. The " wise raan " coun sels us to bear in raind such things as be past, to weigh well such things as be present, and proride prudently for the things which be to come. And you I would bid to remember, first, those sorrows and those burdens which the King's Highness did endure on the occasion. of his first unlawful marriage — a marriage not? cnly judged unlawful by the most famous universities in Christendom, but so determined by the consent of this realra ; and to remember fiirther the great perUs which ' He had been very ilL 494 Speech of the Lord Chancellor. [Ch. xl have threatened his raost royal Majesty from the time when he entered on his second marriage, " Then, turning to the present, you will consider in what state the realm now standeth with respect to the oath by which we be bound to the Lady Anne and to her offspring ; the which Lady Anne, with her accom plices, has been found guilty of high treason, and has met the due reward of her conspiracies. And then The grati- joi 'wIll ask yoursclves, what man of common thektog'for coiidltlon would iiot havc been deterred by TentSnto ^^^^ Calamities from venturing a third time marriage. j^^^^ ^^ g(.^^.g ^f matrlraony. Nevertheless, our most excellent prince, not in any camal concupis cence, but at the humble entreaty of his nobility, hath consented once more to accept that condition, and has taken to himself a wife who in age and form is deemed to be meet and apt for the procreation of children, " Lastly, according to the third injunction, let us now do our part in providing for things to come. Ac cording to the desire of his most gracious Highness, let us narae some person to be his heir ; who, in case (ffmd absif) that he depart this Ufe leaving no offspring law fully begotten, may be our lawful sovereign. But let us pray Almighty God that He will graciously not leave our prince thus childless ; and let us give Him thanks for that He hath preserved his Highness to us- out of so many dangers ; seeing that his Grace's care and efforts be directed only to the ruling his subjects in peace and charity so long as his life endures, and to the leaving us, when he shall come to die, in sure possession of these blessings," Three weeks after Anne Boleyn's death and the king's third marriage, the chancellor dared to address the English legislature in these terras : and either he 1536.] Second Act of Succession. 495 spoke like a reasonable man, which he may have done, or else he was making an exhibition of effrontery to be paralleled only by Seneca's letter to the Roman Senate after the murder of Agrippina, The legisla- The speech , T , n ¦ ¦ 11 digested into tare adopted the first interpretation, and the a statute heads of the speech were embodied in an act of parlia ment. While the statute was in preparation, they made use of the Interval in continuing the business cf the Reformation, They abolished finaUy the protection (if sanctuary in cases of felony, extending the new pro visions even to persons In holy orders : ^ they calmed the alarms of Cranmer and the Protestants by re asserting the extinction of the authority of the pope ; ^ and they passed various other laws of economic and social moment. At length, on the 1st of July, in a crowded house, composed of fourteen bishops,* July i. . , . , 11' ¦ 1 A. Reassertion eighteen abbots, and thirty-mne lay peers,* a of the inde- bill was read a first time of such iraportance the realm. that I must quote at length its own raost noticeable words. The preamble commenced with reciting those pro visions of the late acts which were no longer Second great ¦ • o T 1 1 1 • 1 Act of Sue- to remam in force. It then proceeded, m the cession. form of an address to the king, to adopt and ment endorse endorse the divorce and the execution, "Al- cecdinga in belt," it ran, " raost dread Sovereign Lord, trials. that these acts were made, as it was then thought, upon a pure, perfect, and clear foundation ; your Majesty's nobles and coram.ons, thinking the said marriage then had between your Highness and the ,Lady Anne in their consciences to have been pure, sincere, perfect, and good, and, so was reputed and taken in the realm ; 1 26 Hen. VIIL cap. 1. 2 Ibid. cap. 10. ' Including Latimer aud Cranmer. ^ Lords' TourndU. 49G Second Act of Succession. [Ch. XI [yet} now of late God, of his infinite goodness, from whora no secret things can be hid, hath caused to be brought to light evident and open knowledge of certain just, true, and lawful impediments, unknown at the making of the said acts ; and since that time confessed by the Lady Anne, before the Most Reverend Father in God, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, sitting jii- diilally for the same ; by the which it plainly appear eth that the said raarriage was never good, nor conso nant to the laws, but utterly void and of none effect ; by reason whereof your Highness was and is lawfully divorced fi-ora the bonds of the said raarriage in the life of the said Lady Anne : "" " And over this, raost dread Lord, albeit that your Majesty, not knowing of any lawful impediments, en tered into the bonds of the said unlawful marriage, and advanced the same Lady Anne to the honour of the sovereign estate of the queen of this realra ; yet she, nevertheless, inflamed with pride and carnal desires of her body, putting apart the dread of God and excellent benefits received of your Highness, confederated her self with George Boleyn, late Lord Rochfort, her natu ral brother, Henry Norris, Esq., Francis Weston, Esq,, WiUiam Brereton, Esq,, gentlemen of your privy cham ber, and Mark Smeton, groora of your said privy cham ber ; and so being confederate, she and they most trai torously coraraitted and perpetrated divers detestable and aborainable treasons, to the fearful peril and dan ger of your royal person, and to the utter loss, disherl- son, and desolation of this realra, if God of his goodness had not in due time brought their said treasons to light; for the which, being plainly and raanifestly proved, tbey were convict and attainted by due course and order of your coramon law of this realm, and have suffered according to the merits : " 1636.] Second Act of Succession. 497 In consequence of these treasons, and to lend, if possible, further weight to the sentence against ^hc late her, the late queen was declared attainted by e'Sat- authority of parliament, as she already was '^''"*'' by the coramon law. The Act then proceeded : "And forasmuch, most gracious Sovereign, as il hath pleased your royal Majesty — (notwith- opinion of standing the great intolerable perils and occa- u.pnn the sions which your Highness hath suffered and marriage. sustained, as well by occasion of your first unlawful marriage, as by occasion of your second) ; at the most humble petition and intercession of us your nobles of this realm, for the ardent love and fervent affection which your Highness beareth to the conservation of the peace and amity of the sarae, and of the good and quiet governance thereof, of your most excellent goodness to enter into marriage again ; and [forasmuch as you] have chosen and taken a right noble, virtuous, and ex cellent lady. Queen Jane, to your true and lawful wife ; who, for her convenient years, excellent beauty, and pureness of flesh and blood, is apt to conceive issue by your Highness ; which marriage is so pure and sincere, without spot, doubt, or impediment, that the issue pre sented under the sarae, when it shall please Almighty God to send It, cannot be truly, lawfully, nor justly intsrrupted or disturbed of the right and title in the succession of your crown : May it now please your Majesty, for the extinguishment of all doubts, and for Lthe pure and perfect unity of us your subjectSj and all our posterities, that inasmuch as the raarriage with the Lady Catherine having been invalid, the issue of that marriage is therefore illegitimate ; and the marriage with the Lady Anne Boleyn having been ujion true and just causes deeraed of no value nor effect, tbei.ssue VOL, II. 32 498 Second Act of Succession. [Ch. XL of this raarriage Is also Illegitimate ; the succession to the throne be now therefore determined to the Issue of the marriage with Queen Jane," ^ Thus was e\ery step which had been taken in this The succes- great raatter deliberately sanctioned ^ by par- Si^ed^to'the Uaraeut, The criminality of the queen was Lbl^^by *'"' considered to have been proved ; the sen- ftueen Jane, teucc upou her to havc been just. The king was thanked in the name of the nation for having made haste with the marriage which has been regarded as the temptation to his crirae. It is wholly impossible to disraiss facts like these with a few contemptuous A reason for phrascs ; and when I remeraber that the demurring to , /, t-, i > i i • the popular puritv of Elizabeth is an open question among judgment in ^ ¦' . . -i \ o -i i i this matter, our histonaus, although the toulest kennels raust be swept to find the filth with which to defile it ; while Anne Boleyn is ruled to have been a saint, not withstanding the soleran verdict of the Lords and Com mons, the clergy, the council, judges, and juries, pro nounced against her, — I feel that with such a judgment caprice has had raore to do than a jnst appreciation of evidence. The parliaraent had not yet, however, completed Thecontin- thefr work. It was possible, as the lord provided for, chanccUor had said, that the last marriage of the last o . o \ i i • • ¦ marriage might provo unfruitful, and this contingency fruitful. was still unprovided for. The king had de sired the Lords and Commons to name his successor ; they replied with an act which showed the highesW confidence in bis patriotism ; they conferred a privilege upon hira unknown to the constitution, yet a power 1 28 Hen, VIII. cap. 7. The three last paragraphs, I need scarcely say, •re a very brief epitome of very copious language. 2 The archbishop's sentence of divorce was at the same tirae submitted to Convocation and approved by it. 1536.] Second Act of Succession. 499 which, if honestly exercised, offered by far the happiest solu^n of the difficulty, •Tienry had three children. The Duke of Richraond was Ulegitiraate In the strictest sense, but he had been bred as a prince ; and I have shown that, in default of a legitimate heir, the king had thought of him as his possible successor, Mary and Elizabeth were illegiti mate also, according to law and form ; but the illegiti macy of neither the one nor the other could be pressed to its literal consequences. They were the children, each of them, of connexions which were held legal at the period of their birth. They had each received the rank of a princess ; and the instincts of justice demanded that they should be aUowed a place in the line of inheritance. Yet, while this feeling was dis tinctly entertained, it was difficult to give effect to it by statute, without a further complication of questions already too complicated, and without provoking In trigue and jealousy in other quarters. The Princess Mary also had not yet receded from the defiant atti tude which she had assumed. She had lent herself to conspiracy, she had broken her allegiance, and had as yet made no submission. To her no favour could be shown while she reraained in this position ; and it was equally undesirable to give Elizabeth, under the altered circumstances, a perraanent preference to her *ister. The parliament, therefore, with as rauch boldness as /r)od sense, cut the knot, by granting Henry *^^^f''jU^( jhe power to bequeath the crown by wUl. He the king a 1 ^ "^ _ power to be could thus advance the Duke of Richmond, queath the .ft . o ir»n 1 1 crown by if Richmond's character as a man fulfilled the wiu. promise of his youth ; and he could rescue his daugh ters from the consequences of their mother's mlsfor- feOC Second Act of Succession. [Ch. xi, tunes or their mother's faults. It was an expression of confidence, as honourable to the country as to tho king ; and if we may believe, as the records say, that the tragedy of the past month had indeed grieved and saddened Henry, the generous language in which the legislature committed the future of the nation into his hands, may have something soothed his wounds, " Forasmuch as it standeth," they said, " in the only pleasure and will of Almighty God, whether youi Majesty shall have heirs begotten and procreated from this (late) raarriage, or else any lawful heirs or issues hereafter of your own body, begotten by any other lawful wife ; and if such heirs should fail (as God de fend), and no provision be made in your life who should rule and govern this realra, then this realra, after your transitory life, shall be destitute of a governor, or else percase [be] encurabered with a person that would count to aspire to the same, whora the subjects of this realm shall not find in their hearts to love, dread, and obediently serve ^ as their sovereign lord ; and If your Grace, before it be certainly known whether ye shaU have heirs or not, should suddenly name and declare any person or persons to succeed after your decease, then it is to be doubted that such person so named might happen to take great heart and courage, and by Ther«wons prcsumption fall to inobedience and rebellion ; •""gel fo"' V • .C I, ¦ 1 • T ¦ - J this measure, by occasion ot which premises, divisions and dissensions are likely to arise and spring in this realm, to the great peril and destruction of us, your raost humble and obedient servants, and all our posterities : For reformation and remedy hereof, we, your most bounden and loving subjects, raost obediently acknowl edging that your Majesty, prudently, victoriously, 1 The King of Scots: 28 Hen. VIII. .;. 24. 1536.] Second Aet of Succession. 501 poUticly, and indifferently, hath maintained this realm in peace and quietness during all the time of your most gracious reign, putting our trust and confidence in your Highness, and notiiing doubting but that your Majesty, if you should fail of heirs lawfully begotten, for the love and affection that ye bear to this realra, and for avoiding all the occasions of divisions afore re hearsed, so earnestly raindeth the wealth of the sarae, that ye can best and most prudently provide such a governour for us and this your realm, as will succeed and follow in the just and right tract of all your pro ceedings, and maintain, keep, and defend the same and all the laws and ordinances established in your Grace's time for the wealth of the realm, which we all desire, do therefore most humbly beseech your Highness, that it may be enacted, for avoiding all ambiguities, doubts, and divisions, that your Highness shall have full and plenary power and authority to dispose, by your letters patent under your great seal, or else by your last will made in writing, and signed with your hand, the ira perial crown of this realm, and all other the premises thereunto belonging, to such person or persons as shall please your Highness. " And we, your hurable and obedient subjects, do faithfully proraise to your Majesty, by one common assent, that after your decease, we, our heirs and suc cessors, shall accept and take, love, dread, and only obey sr-.ch person or persons, male or feraale, as your Majesty shall give your imperial crown unto ; and wholly to stick to thera as true and faithful subjects ought to lo." 1 I 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 1. APPENDIX, The tragedy of Anne Boleyn is one of the most mysteri ous in English history. The execution of a wife on a charge of adultery followed by tbe immediate marriage of tbe hus band with another woman is in itself a gross combination wbich points naturally to one conclusion — " None wed the second but who kiU the first," Tbe accusations against Anne were of themselves of a monstrous kind. No trace can be found of any prerious suspicion of ber conduct. She was charged suddenly witb the broadest and grossest profligacy. She was hurried out of the world with tbe most violent pre cipitancy ; and within a few days of her death Jane Sey mour was in the place which she bad left vacant, Tbe obvious inference is that she was falsely accused, that the King was tired of her, and wished ber out of the way, that he might take his pleasure witb his new favorite. On the other hand, there is no sign discoverable- that at the time either Anne's execution or the King's re-marriage was disapproved by the country. The proceedings, though hasty, were regular in form, and even studiously and elabo rately careful. The Queen and ber brother were tried by the Peers, and unanimously condemned. Their uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, sat as High Steward, and both on the trial and afterwards expressed his own conviction of their guilt, though his own family was spotted by their real or supposed infamy. Her father, the Earl of Wiltshire, was on the special commission which condemned the other partners of her guilt, if guilty she was. The venue was laid in different counties that as many juries as possible niight survey and pronounce upon the evidence. Of the 504 Appendix. gentlemen accused, one pleaded guUty ; another confessed, though he afterwards withdrew his confession. On the scaffold, according to the surviving report of their words, not one of them pretended that they were innocent. They all died acknowledging in general terms the justice of their sentence. Parliament was called to revise the settlement of the Crown, Lords and Commons thanked the King for having taken another Wife so speedily, as if it had been an act of merit and almost self-denial ; while there was nothing in the machinery of the Constitution which made the Sov ereign the keeper of his subjects' consciences. He had no Praetorians encamped at Westminster to overawe the legis lature. Had there been any unanimous dissatisfaction with him, the mere household retinues of the Peers could at any moment have overthrown his Government; and even if they can be supposed to have permitted the murder of an innocent woman and five innocent gentlemen on a false charge, it is hardly conceivable that they could have been forced against their convictions to express their deliberate approval of it. Great, therefore, as tbe unlikelihoods were on both sides, and grossly suspicious as on the surface of it was the King's conduct, least violence was done to tbe rules of probability by supposing Anne to have been really a worthless woman. Had the question lain merely between herself and the King, the verdict would have been for ber, Tbe King's guUt would have been more probable than hers. But the forms observed in the trials, and the acquiescence and approval of Parliament, inclined the balance the other way. It was more likely, so far as the evidence has hitherto stood, that the Queen should have disgraced herself than that the Lords and Commons of England, the Bench of Judges, and the Houses of Convocation should have made themselves parties to a groundless calumny, and given their sanction to an abominable crime. No traces had been as yet discovered of any pohtical motives wbich could have misled or bUnded Appendix. 505 them, AU parties seemed for once united in tbe prosecu tion of Anne, The political attitude of the Government did not appear to have been altered by her death 4 Henry was not reconcUed to the Pope; the Princess Mary was not deiinitely restored to her place in the succession ; while Henry as eridently had not made himself an object of hor ror to his brother sovereigns, Charles V,, wben Jane Sey mour died, was as anxious as if no Anne Boleyn bad ever Uved or suffered, to secure the King's band for a kinswoman of his own. Evidently, however, there remained much to be ex plained, Anne Boleyn was divorced as weU as executed, and the cause of this was left a mystery. Although the outline of the trial had been preserved, the evidence in detail was lost or had been destroyed. There were indica tions that the King's affection for her bad been for some time on the wane, though tbe causes of the change were obscure, Eridently, too, some relations or other must have existed between Henry and Jane Seymour, though there was nothing beyond rumour to show what those relations had been. It was known only that Jane Seymour's char acter was without reproach, and that at the time of her marriage and after it she was universally well spoken of. The Engli^ records being sUent on these points, it be came an object to learn what the foreign ambassadors resi dent at the English Court had to say about them, Charles v., Francis, and the Venetians were each, represented here, and hght of some kind could not faU to be thrown upon tbe mystery in their ministers' despatches. Here, however, was a difficulty of another kind. The letters of M. d'IntevUle, tbe French envoy, show a blank at this particular point. Everything relating to Anne's trial is provokingly absent, either having been purposely destroyed, or having been laid apart as especially curious. In the last case it may yet be discovered. My own search, however, was fruitless, nov could I learn that Mr, Rawdon 506 Appendix, Brown had found anything about the trial at Venice, There remained the despatches of Eustace Chapuys, who was the ambassador of Charles V, in England between the years 1529 and 1545, Connected as Charles had been with England, and personally interested as he could uot choose but be in the reUgious revolution from his relation ship witb Catherine of Arragon, the letters of Chapuys to him could not fail to be profoundly instructive. The diffi culty again, however, was to learn where they were, I looked for them at Brussels, I found a few transcripts only, and none of any consequence, M, Gachard, the keeper of the archives there, was in possession of others, a few of which he had publisbed : but these related only to the later period of Chapuys' residence. The rest (aU those, at any rate, which I was speciaUy in search of) were gone, I looked for them at Simancas, but they were not there, nor was anything known about them at Madrid. At length it was suggested to me that they might be at Vienna, Tbe opening of tbe Austrian archives having been one of the many happy fruits of constitutional liberty in that country, I made inquiries, and found that it was so. Every facUity was kindly offered me to see what I wanted, and the vein of information thus opened has proved to be even richer than I expected. The collection contains not Chapuys' correspondence only, but Queen Catherine's and the Princess Mary's, all of it of the very deepest interest, and throwing ligUt on all sides of the great questions with which England was agitated. In this paper I must conflne myself to the story of Anne Boleyn, touching other matter only so far as it serves to explain her fate. It is necessary to say that Chapuys was a bitter Catholic. His original mission was tP protect the interests of Queen Catherine and her daughter. He re garded her divorce, both politically and religiously, with most profound abhorrence ; and he looked on the separation of England from Rome, the Act' of Appeals, and the Act of Appendix. 507 Supremacy, as so many infernal bonds with which the King had sold himself to HeU, Not Pole himself had as bad an opinion of Henry as Chapuys, especially, however, and chiefly on account of the statutes establishing the independ ence of the Church of England, which form the present basis of its connection with the State, He speaks of the King throughout as the one person whose obstinacy and pride made a reconcUiation with Rome impossible. In some iustances his accounts can be proved untrue, in others he recalls in a second letter the hasty statements of a first. He cannot be trusted impUcitly, but the cautions obviously necessary will not faU to .suggest themselves; and with these preliminaries I leave him to tell his own story with out further comment. His letters are almost wholly in cipher. There is a decipher between the lines or on the margin, which is faint, small, abounding in contractions, and, in consequence, difficult to read ; with the exception of a few words, however, I believe that I have made it out with tolerable accuracy. We commence, then, with the year 1535, The Pope had implicitly excommunicated the King, He had threat ened further to declare him deposed, to absolve his subjects fi-om their allegiance, and to call on Charles V, to carry his sentence into execution. The EngUsh ParUament bad repUed by the Act of Supremacy, They had denied that the Holy See possessed any claim whatsoever upon Eng Ush subjects or any right to dispose of their aUegiance, The Crown, menaced with insurrection, was empowered to call on aU persons to disclaim the Pope's pretensions, and to acknowledge that their obligations as subjects were inde pendent of Papal censures, ^ Upon this the dissatisfied Catholic nobles prepared to take arms. On January 1, 1535, Chapuys informed the Emperor that Lord Darcy, who in the following year was one of the leaders of the Pilgrimage of Grace, had sent him privately, 508 Appendix. by the hands of a Flemish priest, a present of a handsome sword made in modern fashion. He understood it to mean that in Lord Darcy's opinion the time had come for action, and that Lord Darcy was prepared when the Emperor should call upon him to declare openly for Queen Catherine and the Church.^ The Earl of Northumberland, who had been Anne Boleyn's early lover — who, perhaps, as wiU be seen, had been secretly married to her — was no less discontented, and was swearing vengeance against persons about the Court, The Earl had sent Chapuys word by his physician that the whole realm was in a humour to rebel, and that at a hint from the Emperor, tbe King could be burled from his throne,^ Northumberland added that the " arrogance and malice " of the Lady Anne had become entfrely intol erable. She had spoken lately to the Duke of Norfolk in language which would hardly be used to a dog, and the Duke, after leaving her presence, bad been so furious that the lightest expression which he used was to caU her " grande putain," " On the 14th Chapuys wrote again that Lord Sandys, the Grand Chamberlain, one of tbe best soldiers in Eng land, had sent him a message, also by his physician, to the same purpose as Darcy and Northumberland, The Em- 1 M. Darcy m'envoya presenter par ledict Pretre une belle esp^e faicte a la moderne et a ce que j'imagine y a du mystere audict present, veuiUant denoter par icelle, puisque n'a .inoyen de le m'envoyer dire securement, qne la saison moderne seroit propice pour jouer des cousteaidx. 2 Et que le moindre effort que vouldroit faire vostre Ma'e ce Roy seroit ruin^ et perdu. ^ Et apres ledict Northumberland commeupa a charger sur I'arrogance et maliguite de la Dame de ce Eoy, disant entre autres choses que ces jours elle dit plus d'injures au Due de Norfolk que I'on ne diroit k ung chieu, de sort qu'il fut contrainct de sortir de la chambre, et ne trouvant en la sale autre que ung auqiiel ledict Due ne pourtoit bonne affection; toute- fois la colore luy fit oublier cela et I'esmeut a soy declairer audict person age et luy dire les reproclies lie ladicte Dame, entre lesquelz I'ung des moindrcs estoit de I'appellcr graudo putain. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Jauvicr 1, 1535. Appendix. 509 peror, Lord Sandys said, had tbe hearts of the Whole realm, and if he did but know the King's weakness he would not hesitate to interfere. Lord Sandys had withdrawn from the Court, and was' remaining at home under pretence of Ulness, The doctors, Chapuys added, made the best of emissaries, as they could go to and fro without exciting suspicion. At that moment an immediate rising was evidently med itated. The CathoUc leaders were impatient at the Em peror's hesitation, and Chupuys shared in their restiveness, " These noblemen," be added, " with a little help in money, can bring a hundred thousand men into the field. They consider that the forces to be sent over by your Majesty should announce that they are come not in the quarrel of God and the Queen only, but for the relief of the oppressed nation, and the restoration of order and justice. They should come at once, for delay wUl be dangerous ; the King will deprive the present incumbents one after another of their benefices, and wUl give them to others who wUl con vert and seduce the people," ^ In the face of these revelations tbe King's persistence in demanding the Oath of Supremacy appears no longer gra tuitous or arbitrary. Queen Catherine feared that the oath would be offered to the Princess Mary, and that if her daughter refused to take it she would be either tried and executed, or at least would be imprisoned for life, Cha puys' instructions were to find means for Mary's escape out of the realm, but Catherine thought the attempt too dan gerous, and she too urged the ambassador to quicken the Emperor's movements. The Duke of Suffolk and Lord Montague were now added to the malcontents. The Duke spoke of Anne Boleyn as bitterly as Norfolk, The Marquis of Exeter assured the ambassador that his best desire was to shed his 1 Bien distingue que le dangler de ceste affaire seroit a la tardance, car avec le temps ce Eoy de ung a aultre privera des benefices tous ceulx qui bon luy semblera, et les donra a aultres que converteront et seduyront le peuple. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Janvier 14 et 28. 510 Appendix. blood for Queen Catherine and the Princess, and that when the time came he would not be the last in tbe field,' Unfortunately for the intending insurgents, Charles was cold. He was occupied with France, He hesitated to countenance rebellion. He was unwilling to recognize in their full extent the pretensions of the Papacy, Instead of offering himself to execute the Bull of Deposition, he interposed to delay the issue of it. Through Chapuys he preached only patience to his aunt and to the English lords, while he made direct and serious efforts to reconcile himself with Henry, and to persuade England to join with him in carrying out the long-talked-of General CouncU, Henry was equally anxious to be on good terms with Charles, The difficulty lay only in Queen Catherine and the Princess Mary, The King insisted that the Emperor should recognize the lawfulness of the divorce, and Mary's consequent illegitimacy, Charles, however great his politi cal embarrassments, could nofc in decency abandon his aunt and cousin. In default of action the air began to be filled with rumours and prophecies. Scraps of rhyme portending rebellion were scattered among the people by the priests, Anne Boleyn (the concubine, as Chapuys called her), afraid that Henry might let Charles persuade him, endeavoured by similar means to rid herself of her dangerous rivals. The King was growing impatient for the male heir which he had promised himseff, " The concubine bas bribed some one,'' so says Chapuys, " to pretend a revelation from God that she can conceive no chUdren as long as Queen Catherine and the Princess are aUve, I doubt not she bas made the man speak to the King, She has lately sent him to Crom well, and exclaims incessantly that the ladies are rebels and traitoresses, and that they deserve death," " 1 Chapuys ii I'Empereur, Fevrier 9 et 25. ^ Je ne veux oublier que ces jours la concubine a snbome ung que dit avoir eu revelaciou de Dieu que estoit impossible qu'elle conijeust enfans pendant que les dictes deux Dames seroient en vie. Je ne doubte qu'elle I'aura fait parler au Eoy, et ces jours elle I'a euvoye a Cromwell. Elle ne Appendix. 511 There can be no doubt that Henry would have been ex tremely glad ff his divorced wffe, and perhaps his daughter also, could have been removed by any natural means out of his way. They were not only politically embarrassing, but eminently dangerous. Queen Catherine was by no means the meek and suffering saint which she has been sometimes represented. She was a high-spirited woman, keenly con scious of her own and her daughter's wrongs. She had al ready implored the interference of Charles, and again, as we shall see, she implored it stUl more earnestly. It had been thought necessary to separate her from Mary, In the mid dle of March the Princess was Ul, and Catherine wrote ear nestly to Chapuys begging to be permitted to take charge of her, Dr, Butts, the King's physician, who was secretly Catherine's friend, backed her request, adding that tbe Princess' disorder might prove dangerous if she was longer parted from her mother. The King, though otherwise anx ious that she should have proper assistance, would not hear of it. He reproached Butts with disloyalty. He said he would take good care bow be allowed those two ladies to get together, " The Queen was of such high mettle that with her daughter at her side she might assemble a force about her, take the field, and make war upon him with as much spirit as her mother Isabella," ' He refused to see the Princess himself, (Her Ulness after all, as Chapuys admitted, was not serious,) He said she was the worst enemy that he had in the world, and that she was the cause of aU the trouble which was distracting Christendom, Either women's lives were held cheap, or even the Em peror, it was thought, would be pleased at heart ff the ground of difference could be done away with between him- cesse de I'autre couste de dire qu'elles sont rebelles et traicteresses meri- tant la mort. — Chapuys A Granvelle, Mars 23. 1 Car estant la Boyne si haultaine de cueur, luy venant en fantasye, a I'appuy de la faveur de la princesse, elle se pourroit mectre au champs et assembler force de gens et luy faire la guerre aussi hardiement que fit la Eoyne Dofia Elizabeth sa mere. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Mars 23. 512 Appendix. self and his uncle. The Government was preparmg to give effect to tbe Act of Supremacy, and tbe Princess, ff offered the oath, would undoubtedly refuse to take it, Cha puys had been impressing on Cromwell the desfrableness of a reconcihation with the Emperor, Cromwell, after a littie thought, replied that " the Emperor ought not to let a matter of such vast importance to Christendom be broken off for the sake of the Queen and tbe Princess, They were but mortal, and the Princess' death would be no great harm ff it would restore union between England and the Empire," He spoke " like Caiaphas," Chapuys said in another letter, " He begged me to think it over when I was alone and at leisure." ' The CouncU could then go forward and remedy the troubles of Christendom. The interval before it met could be spent in knitting closer the amity between the two Sovereigns. Cromwell repeated that, although the people might murmur, there would be neither danger nor hurt in the Princess' death, and the Emperor had every reason to take that riew of it,^ Chapuys professes to have repUed to this singular sug gestion "that there was no occasion to waste time by dweUing on the inconveniences which would arise from the suspicious death of the Princess, He would merely say that he did not see how the Emperor could escape the suspicion of having consented to it, and of having sold his cousin for poUfcical convenience. This would be a staui on the Emperor's good name which he could not endure ; and even if he could be brought to consent, the King ought not to wish ifc. He would leave the realm at ' II me dit que Vostre Majeste ne se debvoit arrester pour empescher ung si inestimable bien que produiroit eu toute la Chretieut^ I'union etla bonne intelligence dentre Vostre TAa.^" et le Eoy son Maitre pour l'affaire des Eoyne et Princesse qui n'estoient que mortelles, et que ne seroit grande dommage de la mort de la dicte Princesse au pris de bien que sortiroit de la dicte uuiou et intelligence, en quoy me prioit vouloir considerer quand seroy seul et desoccup^. 2 Me replicquant de nouveaulx quel dommage ne dangier seroit que ladicte Princesse feust movte, oyres que le peuple en mormurast; et quelle raison auroit vostre Ma's en faire cas." lix. 513 his death in incredible and unextinguishable confusion, to the serious burden of his conscience," ' The Act of Supremacy was set in motion, but not against the Princess, As yet nothing was likely to be miderfcaken against her or her mother without the Em peror's leave. But Sir Thomas More and the Bishop of Rochester were in the tower, the Charterhouse monks were preparing for martyrdom, and stUl the thunders of the Church were silent, Charles held back the Pope's hand, and Catherine was in despair. She tried to quicken her nephew's movements. She wrote to him on the 8th of April that she had been looking for the issue of the sentence, and that she bad hoped by that time to have sent him word of the good effects which it had wrought. God, for her sins and the sins of others, had permitted otherwise, but in so just a cause she would not be wanting to herseff nor would she offend God by neglecting to use the help of those who could apply a remedy in a case so disastrous, " I cannot, there fore," she said, " but urge and insist to your Majesty, as I have always hitherto done, that you should bear in mind our Holy Catholic faith, and the perU in which this realm is standing for want of the sentence, I entreat for it with aU my energy, I am a Christian woman, and stand bound to sue for it in the presence of such scenes as I am obliged to witness. My daughter has been Ul, and has not yet re covered. Her treatment is such that were she well it would break her constitution ; far less being sick can she regain her health, and ff she perish it wiU be a double sin. Your Majesty wUl think of means to do us good, , , , Care not for me, I am accustomed to bear any burden, but I must let your Highness understand that I am as Job, waiting for the day when I must go sue for alms for the love of God," = 1 Chapuys a I'Empereur, Mars 23. ^ No puedo dexar'de enojar y dar pena a V™ Mag* como hasta agora he VOL. II. gg 514 Appendix. At Chapuys' request the King sent Dr, Butts to visit Mary, Dr, Butts pretended reluctance, to remove the sus picions which Henry entertained of his loyalty. He went, however, and had a private interview with Queen Cath erine's physician, who was already in attendance, not so much to consult over the sickness of the Princess as over the disorders of the realm and the medicines to be used for these, " He is a very clever man," wrote Chapuys, " and is inti mate with fche nobles and fche CouncU, He says there are bufc two ways of doing anything for the Queen and Prin cess, and the nation in general. One would be, ff God pleased, to visit the King with some Uttle malady,^ He might then reflect on his own conduct, and listen more patienfly to remonstrance, Tbe other was force, of which he says that the King and those who manage matters stand in marveUous fear. If it come to this, be thinks the King wUl be especially careful of tbe safe keeping of the Queen and Princess, meaning to use them, if the worst comes to the worst, as mediatresses of peace. If neither of these two means be tried, he thinks their Uves are in danger. Your Majesty, he says, cannot know with what ease the King can be overthrown, twenty of the principal noblemen acostumbrado, suplicaudo quiera tener memorya de nuestra f e Catolica y del peligro que este Eeyno esta por falta della. Y esto pido tan affects uosamente quanto puedo, porque como Christiana soy obligada a hacerlo, viendo la necesidad que veo. . . . My hija a estado enferma y agora no esta bien sana, y el tratamiento suyo es tal que hasta para hacer enfermo aun sano, quanto mas para curar a enfermo. . . . Sy, con la manera que con ella usa, pereciese, serya el pecado doblado. V™ Mag"! pensara eu rcmedyo. . . No hay necesidad de hacer a caso de my por estar acos- turabrada a sufrir cualquiera carga, mas no dexare de hacer saber a V™ Alteza que estoy como Job — esperando el dya que tengo de yr a pedir por amor de Dios lymosna. — La Eeyna Cateriua al Emperador, Abril 8. ^ Le premier estoit si Dieu vouloit visiter ce Eoy de quelque petite mala die. The words are ambiguous. Dr. Butts might mean that the malady was to be sent from Heaven ; but he was speaking of methods by which a particular state of things might be set right ; aud the word "petite" looks as if he thought the dimensions of the disease might be controlled by himself. Appendix. 515 and more than a hundred knights being ready to employ their lives, their goods, their friends and retainers in the cause, with the least assistance in the world from your Majesty," ^ The King carried a bold front to the danger with which he knew himself to be threatened. The sentence of depo sition was daily expected. He was determined to exact, before it appeared, an acknowledgment from the most influ ential of the Catholic party that the Pope had no authority over him or them. The Charterhouse monks refused the oath, and were executed, More's and Fisher's turns were coming, and if Chapuys was rightly informed. Queen Anne was using all her influence to persuade the King to extend the same measure to Catherine and Mary, " I am told privately," be said, " that many times lately the concubine has blamed tbe King for his remissness, tell ing him that it was a shame to himself and to the realm (to spare them), and that they ought to be punished as traitor- esses under the form of the statute,'' " The said concubine," he continued, " is prouder and haughtier than ever. She dares, ^s I hear, to tell the King that he is as deeply bound to her as man can be bound to woman, for that she has been the cause of saving him from the sin in which he was bring, and that, more over, through her means, he would be soon the richest priace that ever reigned in England," " So secure the uiffortunate woman considered herself in her greatness, that she claimed to direct the politics of the realm, AU ber sympathies were with France : every min- ^ Affirmant pour tout certain qu'il y avoit une XX des principaulx Seigneurs d'Angleterre et plus de cent chevaliers tous disposez et prestes a employer personnes biens amys et subjectz ayant la mdSndre assistance du monde de V'e Ma's. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Avril 26. - 2 A quoy poussera de tout son pouvoir la concubine que nagueres a plu sieurs fois affirmiS et inculp^ audict Eoy que ce luy estoit houte et a tout le Eoyaulme qu'elles seroient pugnies comme traicteresses a la forme des Btatutz. 8 Chapuys a I'Empereur, Mai 8. 516 Appendix. ister who furthered or tried to ftirther the Imperial alli ance fell under her displeasure, and she was unmeasured in the riolence with wbich she addressed tbem. Even Crom weU, who had been considered her right hand, did not feel himself secure. He told Chapuys, at the beginning of June, that if she knew the familiarity that existed between Chapuys and himself she would do him an Ul-turn. She had reproached him for something three days before, he said, and bad told him then that she would see his head taken off his shoulders ; but he had such confidence in the King his master that he did not think she could harm him. Another thing Chapuys learnt about her was that she never ceased, day or night, to endeavour to bring the Duke of Norfolk into disgrace with the King — perhaps because he was in the habit of speaking freely of her character ; * perhaps because Cromwell wished to break the power of the great nobles, and was commencing witb the chief among them. At this crisis the Pope, witb a rashness and timidity which were equally impolitic, while he still withheld the Bull of Deposition, which was to have been the signal for a rising, created Fisher, who was defying the Act of Suprem acy in the Tower, a cardinal. The King, meeting defiance with defiance, said that if Fisher was to have a red hat he would send his head to Rome to have it fitted on. Com missioners were sent instantly to require the submission of the Bishop and Sir Thomas More, They both refused, Fisher was executed first, and then More, and the indigna tion and fear of fche Catholic parfcy rose to fever heat. The London populace, who were on fche King's side, increased their fury by bringing out a mystery play, in which the principal feature was the beheading of recalcitrant priests. The King, as if to goad them into madness, came up from Windsor to be present at the performance, 1 Bien me I'on certifie de bon lieu que ladicte Dame ne cessoit nuyt ne jour pour mectre en disgrace du Eoy le Due de Norfolk. Ne s(;ay si c'est pour ce qu'il parle liberalement d'elle, ou que Cromwell veuillant abaissor les grands venille commencer a luy. Appendix. 517 Either Sandys or Darcy again implored Chapuys to rouse the Emperor from his inaction, and to persuade him, ff he would do no more, at least to permit the issue of the Bull of Deposition, Something, they insisted, must be done with speed, or the modern preachers and prelates would corrupt the whole nation. The clergy would furnish money for the beginning of the insurrection, and means would be found also to plunder the King's treasury,^ The Princess Mary stUl wished to escape abroad, that she might be out of the way when the rebeUion broke out. She harassed Chapuys continually with entreaties to pro ride her with means. After More's execution, also, it seemed but too likely that her own life would not be spared, Chapuys could not bring himself fco aUow her to run any risk, Cromwell, who, notwithstanding that be had spoken like Caiaphas, really wished to save her, believed her best protection would be in some marriage abroad, to which the King might consent, Chapuys, however, considered that the King, being under the influence of Anne, would never be persuaded to allow it. " If the concubine is to be be lieved," he wrote in deep despondency, " the dowry will cost hut little, for she is crying incessantly to the King that he does neither well nor prudently in allowing the Queen and Princess to live, seeing they have deserved death far more than those who have been executed, and are the cause of all the trouble." ^ 1 Le bon vienlx sieur dont ay cydevant escript a 'N'l* .M Js m'envoya I'autre jour son cousin ainsi qu'il vouloit partir pour s'en aller en sa maimon, et me prie d& . . . . [words illegible] ct plusieurs autres de vouloir Boliciter devers V'" Mat^ la impetracion des executoriales .... et que ce moyennant que Vostre Ma'^ n' auroit commodite ou volun te de faire autre assistance, il pensoit qu'il y auroit moyen de bien tost y reme- dier, pour veu que les dictes executoriales ne tardent, car autrement les modernes pricheurs et prelatz subverteront tout le peuple. II dit d'avan- tage qu'il pense que les ecclesiastiques foumiroyent ppur le commence ment, et que cependant bien pourroit trouver moyen de mectre la main sur ce grand tresor que ce Eoy tient eu sa maison en ceste ville. — Chapuys '& I'Empereur, Juillet 11. 2 Je croys bien que ce n'est le plus grand soucy de ce Eoy marier ladicte 518 Appendix. After More's death tbe King went on progress, and Chapuys could not speak too bitterly of the favour with which he was received by the people. He won the hearts of the towns by enriching them with grants out of the spoils of the monasteries. He carried preachers witb him who attracted large audiences ; and audiences, sfcrange to say, which let themselves be persuaded that the King was doing right, " He is on the borders of Wales," reported the ambassa dor, " hunting and risiting the country, and aU to gain the hearts of the people. For this he uses all imaginable means, aud I am told that a good part of the peasantry in the districts where he bas been, afiter bearing the Court preachers, are abused into the belief that he was inspired by God into separating from his brother's wffe, Tbey are but a set of idiots. They wUl return soon enough to the truth when there are any signs of a change," -^ A feature in the expected Bull of Deposition was to be a clause forbidding all Catholic nations to hold intercourse witb the English who continued obedient to the King, At that moment Henry distrusted the disposition of France towards him almost as much as that of the Empire, Cath erine had entreated the regent Mary to use her influence with ber sister the French Queen to bring Francis, as she cynicaUy said, to show himseff a true friend of his brother of England, by assisting in delivering him from a state of sin,^ and there was reason to fear that she bad not been whoUy unsuccessful. The effect of the sentence, ff it Princesse, et si la concubine est de croyre, le dot ne coutera pas beaucoup, car elle ne cesse de cryer apres ledict Eoy qu'il ne fait bien ny prudem- ment de sufrir vivre lesdictes Eoyne et Princesse qui meritoient trop plus la mort' que ceulx qui ont este executez et qu'elles estoient cause de tout. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Juillet 25. 1 Chapuys a I'Empereur, Aoust 10. 2 Cuando se vyese con la Senora Eeyna su hermana despues de dadas mys affectuosas eucomieudas rogarle de mi parte quisiese tener mencion de my con el Christianissimo Eey su marido y hacer quanto pudiese ser que le sea buen amygo al Eey my Senor procurando de quitarle del pecado en que esta. — La Eeyna Catherina a la Eeyua Maria, viii de Agosto. Appendix. 519 destroyed the commerce of the English by cutting off their communication with the Continent, was seriously feared. And it was for this reason, and for the impulse which it would thus lend to the intended rebellion, that the issue of it was so earnestly pressed. The harvest had failed. There was likelihood of famine, and as CromweU acknowledged to Chapuys, the Bull, tf obeyed in earnest in France and by the subjects of the Emperor, would create the greatest dis tress and confusion. The Geraldines were in rebeUion in Ireland, " Your majesty would not beUeve," Chapuys wrote on September 6, " how continually I am importuned on aU sides for the issue of the censiu-es. They think here now that that alone woiUd suffice to put a speedy end to the dis order here," Again, on the 25 th, to Granvelle : — Every man of any position here is in despair at the Pope's hesitation, and at the intercourse being allowed to continue with Flanders and Spain. If means be not taken promptly there will be no longer hope, either for the good ladies whose lives are in danger, or for religion, which is going daily to destruction. Things are come to such a pass, that in various places they now preach against the sacrament. The Emperor, as the first Prince in Christendom, is bound to interfere. He can do as much good by coming here as ever he did in Africa, with far greater ease, and with incomparably more political advantage, l The Emperor, entangled for the present in a war with tbe Turks, and with a fresh quarrel with France impending over him in Italy, had, unfortunately for the hopes of the CathoUcs, no leisure to attend to these EngUsh matters. He was unwiUing to aUow the sentence to come out before he was prepared to act upon it. For his own subjects' sake he did not wish their trade with London to be indefinitely suspended, nor would he, if be could help it, show disre spect to the Papal censures by allowing tbem to be disre garded, Granvelle wrote that he was horrified at the enor mity of Henry's conduct. He was confident that God would punish him. But for himself, he said, he was so much occu pied that he had scarcely time to breathe, and both he and 1 Chapuys a Granvelle, Septembre 25. 520 Appendix. his master continued to hope for a reconciUation, and to im agine that sooner or later matters would be settled peace fully by diplomacy,^ Before Granvelle's despatch could have arrived in Eng land the Queen and Princess were in a fever of expectation. It is necessary to attend parfcicularly to the letters which follow, for however crueUy they had been used they were sfcUl English subjects, and although they may be acquitted in poinfc of conscience for almost any measures to which they might have recourse to right themselves, yet to move directly in their own persons to bring about invasion and insurrection was really treason, and (since ff she did not know what they were doing she could not but suspect it) this explains, if it does not justify, the eagerness of Anne and her friends to have them p9t out of the way. The Princess Mary then, some time in October, wrote to Granvelle thus : — The state of affairs is pitiable and worse than wretched. Things will fall to ruin and total perdition, uuless his Majesty, for the service of God, the welfare and repose of Christendom, the honor of the King my father, and compassion for the poor afflicted souls here, will take brief order and apply the remedy : as I hope and feel assured that he will do if only he be thoroughly informed of what has taken place here. Occupied as he has been iu his no less sacred than necessary expedition to Tunis, he will have been unable to realize the character, the weight, the importance, the dan ger of the condition in which we are placed. The whole truth cannot be told in letters, and therefore I would have you despatch one of your people to his Majesty to inform him of everything, and to supplicate him, on the part of the Queen my mother and myself, for the honor of God, and for other respects as well, to attend to our condition and make provision for us. In so doing he will perform a service most agreeable to Almighty 1 Granvelle adds a passage about Cranmer which deserves attention: — Ne veulx je delaisser de vous dire ces deux mots, que je m'esbahys fort des termes estranges que comme I'on a entendu du Court de Eome tient I'Archevesque de Canterbury, mesmes en l'affaire des Eoyne et Princesse d'Angleterre; attendu que durant le temps qu'il estoit resident en cest Court, il blamoit mirablement ce que le Eoy d'Angleterre son maistre et ses autres ministres faisoient en l'affaire du divorce eu centre lesdittes Eoyne et Princesse. Mais je voye qu'il a. bien change d'opiuion ; selon que aussi plusieurs en escriprent estrangement. ... — Minute d'une lettre du Seigneur de Granvelle escrite a Eustace Chapuys, 26 Septembre. Appendix. 521 God, nor will he acquire less fame and glory to himself, than in the con quest of Tunis or in all his African expeditions.! Except by forbearance and persuasion — the means which he was already trying, and was driving Mary's friends into despair by persisting in them — there were bufc two ways in which fche Emperor could infcerfere successfully : either by declaring war and sending over an army, or by cutting off aU communication between his own subjects and the English, and thus precipitating no less certainly either war, or rebeUion, or both. The allusion to Tunis points to an armed expedition. But, in either case, had this letter faUen into an enemy's hands, the writer of ifc could hardly have escaped an indictment for high treason, and had she been tried she would not have escaped conriction. Queen Catherine addressed herself immediately to the Pope, Whether the Emperor moved or not, the Pope could, afc any rate, issue his Bull, A successful rising in England in defence of the Church could hardly be looked for while the Church itself continued silent. Most holy and most blessed Father [she wrote] , I kiss your Holiness' hands. My letters have been full of importunities aud complaints, and thus have beeu more calculated to give you pain than pleasure. I have therefore for some time ceased to write to your Holiness, or to petition you, though I have burdened my conscience by silence, to pay more attention to what is passing iu this realm. I have but one satisfaction in thinking of these things. I have never ceased to thank our Lord Jesus Christ for haling appointed — now in a time when Christendom is in such straits — a vicar like your Holiness, of whom from all sides I hear so much good. God iu His mercy has preserved you for this hour. Once more, therefore, like an obedient child of the Holy See, as all my ancestors have been, I do entreat you to bear in special memory this realm, the King my lord and husband, aud my daughter. Your Holiness and all Christendom know what things are done here, with how great offence to God, how great scan dal to the world, how great reproach to your Holiness. If a remedy be not shortly applied there will be no end to condemning souls and to mak- 1 Et lay supplier de la part de la Eoyne ma mere et myenne, en I'hon neur de Dieu et pour aultres respects que dessus vouloit entendre et pour- veoyr aux affaires dyey, en quoy fera tres agreable service a Dieu et n'en acquerra moins de voz et gloire qu'en la conqueste de Thunis et de toute l'affaire Afrique. ^De la Princesse d'Angleterre a I'Ambassadeur, Octo bre, 1535. 622 Appendix. ing martyrs. The good will be constant and will suffer. The lukewarm, seeing none to aid them, may possibly fall, and the rest will stray out of the way like sheep that have lost their shepherd. I lay these things before your Holiness, because I know not any one on whose conscience the mar tyrdom of these holy and virtuous persons and the ruin of so many souls ought to lie more heavily than on yours, iu that your Holiness neglects to encounter so great an evil, which the Devil, as we see, has sown among us. I write frankly to your Holiness for the discharge of my own conscience, as to one who, as I hope, can feel [with me] and my daughter the deaths of these holy men. It is a mournful pleasure to me to think .that we shall follow them in the manner of our torments .... [a few words are here illegible] otherwise we shall sing Gloria in Excelsis Deo. And so I end, waiting for the remedy from God and from your Holiness ; and may it come speedily, else the time will be past. Our Lord defend your Holi ness' person. 1 Accompanying these letters was a long, passionate address from Chapuys to Charles himseff, begging him in the name of the great Catholic party to strike in without further hesitation. The execution of More and Fisher, the sup pression of fche monasteries, and the famine from fche faU ure of harvest, had combined to create an opportunity which might never refcurn. If the Emperor declared him self at once he would have the whole country at his side, and the King would faU without a blow,^ The Emperor, as we have seen, bad otherwise decided, but his resolution was not known to Chapuys before No vember, and in England generally was not known at aU, Both the Court and the CathoUcs were expecting to hear any day that the BuU was out, and that Charles had under taken the execution of it, and the fever of fear and hope and distrust and suspicion may easUy be imagined. At such a time infinite lies would be inevitably flying, and reports of any kind coming from people living in such a state of excitement must be received with the greatest hesi tation. On one point, however, there was a persistence and uniformity in the accounts which were carried to Cha puys, The danger of Catherine and Mary was every hour 1 La Eeyna Catherina d Su" Sant^, Ottubre 10. 2 Chapuys h. I'Empereur, Octobre 13. Appendix. 523 increasing, and tbe person who was most assiduously urg ing fcheir death was Anne Boleyn. Anne and her friends knew well that an insurrection which restored Catherine to her rank as Queen would be the certain signal of their own destruction. Politicians knew that the Iffe of the Princess Mary was essential to the success of either rebel lion or invasion. The people would have no heart to over throw the Grovemment unless they had some one to take the King's place. If Mary was removed there was not a person on whom the nobles could agree as a successor to the crown ; and Charles, though he might risk an invasion to maintain his aunt and cousin, would scarcely venture it to avenge their execution, unless he saw his way to some subsequent setfclement. Thus we read without surprise, and with no difficulty in believing it, that on November 6tb Chapuys learnt from the Marchioness of Exeter that the King had determined the two poor ladies should either break or bend. He had been heard to say to one of his most intimate adrisers that he would endure no longer tbe alarm and anxiety which the Queen and Princess caused him. Parliament was about to meet, and the matter should then be considered. He swore peremptorUy that he would wait no further,^ The Marchioness said that her information was as true as the Gospel, She bade Chapuys for God's sake to let the Emperor know it, and beg him in pity to do something for the honour of God and the obUgations of his relationship. The influence at work witb Henry, Chapuys explained more particularly and emphatically to Granvelle, "What I have written to his Majesty," he said, "is bufc too true ; and I believe this she-devil of a concubine " {ceste w 1 Tout a cest instant la Marquise de Exeter m'a envoyfe dire que ce Eoy a demierement dit a ses plus privez conseilliers qu'il ne vouloit plus demeurer en [les] facheuses craiuetes et pesements qu'il avoit de long- temps eu a cause des Eoyne et Princesse ; et qu'ilz regardassent a ce pro- chain Parlemeiit Ten faire quicte, jurant bien et tres obstinement qu'il n'actendoit plus longuement de y pourvoir. — A I'Empereur, Nov. 6. 524 Appendix. diahlesse de concubine') " will never rest till she has made an end, and is quit of these unhappy ladies. She works towards it by aU imaginable means'' ¦^ A fortnight later he wrote in the same strain, " The Marchioness of Exeter has been with me in disguise, and repeated her warning The concubine who has conspired the death of the said ladies thinks of nothing but to get them despatched. It is she who commands and gov erns all, and the King will not contradict her. The case is most dangerous. It is to be feared, as I have already written, that he wiU make his Parliament and tbe estates of the realm fche partners, and as it were the authors of his misdeeds ; that by this means losing hope of pardon and mercy from your Majesty, they may be the more resolute at all hazards to defend themselves," ^ Negofciafcions bad been going forward for a permanent setfclement between France and the Empire, Had they been successftd, as at one time appeared Ukely, the Em peror would in all probability have now yielded to tbe so licitations which were pressed upon bim. It was not to be, however, France was determined to have the Duchy of Milan : the Emperor could not bring himseff to part with it, Francis was again at Henry's feet soliciting his aUiance, and Charles could not venture the risk of driving them infco a combinafcion against him. The English ParUament, what ever might be the cause, stood by the King in aU his dark est measures. The Peers, who were offering bim their 1 EUe ne cessera jamais jusques elle ait une fin et soit quicte de ces pauvres Dames a quoy elle travaille par tous les moyens qu'elle peut im- aginer. — Chapuys a Granvelle, Nov. 6. 2 Davantage la concubine qui ... a coujur^e et oonspirfe la mort desdictes Dames . . . ne pense en rien tant que de les faire despecher. Est celle qui commande et gouveme le tout et a laquelle ledict Eoy ne sauroit contredire. Le. cas est fort dangereux ... est de s'en doubter il vouldra comme j'ay deja escript faire participans comme auteurs de telz mesf aictz ceulx de son Parlement et estatz du Eoyaulme ; a fin que par ce moyen perdant I'espoir de la clemence et misericorde de V" Ma'« toutefois fussent plus determinez a se def endre. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Nov. 23. Appendix. 525 serrices, were part of that Parliament, and attempted no opposition there. How could he trust their constancy in the field when they showed so little resolution in the Senate House? He refused to believe that the danger was as great or the King as inhuman as Chapuys represented, " What you tell me," he wrote to Chapuys, " is a thing too cruel and too horrible to credit. The King cannot be so unnatural as fco pufc to death his wife and his daughter ,•• The threat of doing ifc can be intended only to frighten them into compliance," " They must not take the oath," he continued, " if it can possibly be avoided ; but ff the peril is real, and there is no other means of escape, you must teU them from me that they must give way. An oath so sworn cannot prejudice them," The knot was cut, so far as concerned Queen Catherine, in a manner utterly unforeseen. She was not old — she was still under fifty ; her health had been good, considering what she had suffered, and during the autumn she had been unusually well. Rumors reached London towards the end of November that something was wrong with her, but no great attention was paid to them, Chapuys, on the 30th, had a stormy interriew with Henry, The King said that he was entreated by France to join in a league against the Emperor, and he feared that for his own safety he might be driven to comply, " The Emperor had behaved fco him with the most inconceivable ingratitude, and afc the instiga tion of a woman had occasioned him infinite trouble. The Pope himself had confessed that the Emperor had com pelled him by force and menace to take the part which he had done about the divorce." ^ ' C'est chose tant cruelle et horrible que uul pust achever de croyre que ledict Eoy fust tant desnaturel que de faire mourir lesdictes Dames ses femme et fille. — L'Empereur a Chapuys, Nov. 29. 2 Et que vostre Ma** luy aviot use de la plus grande ingratitude que I'on si;auroit dire, solicitant a I'appetit d'uuo femme, tant de choses contre luy, que luy avoit faict innumerables maiix et facheries, et de telle importance 526 Appendix. WhUe tbe King was speaking news came in from Kim bolton that the Queei^ Ulness had taken an alarming form, and that her Itfe was in imminent danger, Henry said coldly that " her death mighfc remove tbe grounds of differ ence with the Emperor," ^ He had never concealed that on general grounds be would prefer the Imperial alliance to tbe French, and that he was ready to refcurn to it as soon as Charles would cease to sup port Catherine's cause. The Queen, Chapuys thought, could scarcely be so Ul as the messenger reported. He prepared, however, to go im mediately to Kimbolton, and he asked permission to take the Princess Mary with him, Henry gave him an ambig uous answer. He was deeply suspicious, and, as we have seen, not without reason. He said he would think of it, and must wait till be had heard more, or words to that effect,^ The alarming account, however, proved too weU founded. The Queen lingered for a few weeks. On December 13 she wrote her last letter to the Emperor, Her handwrit ing, usually remarkably bold and powerful, bad become feeble and tremulous, and in the staggering and barely leg ible lines I make out with diffictUty only that she expected somefching desperate to be attempted against her in the approaching Parliament, which would be a scandal to the world, and her own and her daughter's destruction. After this there are no more traces of her pen. On the seventh of January she died. One curious circumstance is mentioned about her death, Chapuys writes that wben in extremis she declared to her physician qu'elle n'avoit que vostre Ma'* par menasses et force avoit fait donner la sentence contre luy comme le mesme Pape I'avoit confess^. ' Disant davantage que cela seroit oster I'empeschement que mectroyent les scrupules entre Y^ Ma'« et luy. 2Ce qu'il refusa de prime face, et luy ayant fait quelques remonstrances il dit que bien il y penseroit et auroit aviz. — Cliapuys a I'Empereur, Nov. 30. Appendix. 527 oncques este cogneu du Prince Arthur, mais la marisson et trouble le luy fit oublier,* It was inevitable fchat her death, occurring at such a time, so opportunely, should be attributed in fche excited state of feeling to foul play. Although the most energefcic half of the nafcion had gone along with the King in the revolt from the Papacy, Queen Catherine had always retained their respect and affection. They admired her character, they pitied her sufferings, and there were few English of any creed who did not believe in their hearts that the claims of the Princess Mary on the succession were superior to those ofthe daughter of Anne. It was no less inevitable that the rival who was universally believed to have been instigating the King to put Cafcherine and Mary to deafch should now be charged with having accelerated the event which she so much desired by unlawful means, Anne Boleyn was sup posed to have poisoned Catherine, and fco meditate sending her daughter after her on the same road, Chapuys, in describing Catherine's deafch to bis master, said that it was in all respects a terrible business ; " espe cially," he wrote, " because I fear the good Princess wiU never wear mourning. The concubine will save her the trouble, as she has long time threatened ; that is, she will have her killed." " Indeed," he added, " fchis is to be feared, unless speedy means be taken, I will do my best to comfort and console fche Princess, I have many times asked the physician if he suspected poison. He said he feared it, for the Queen had never been well after she had drunk some Welsh beer ; but it must have been a slow poison and cun ningly composed, for he admitted that he- had seen uo signs of poison pure and simple, and on the opening the body he would have found traces of ifc," ^ * In a more composed condition of the pubUc mind a ' Chapuys to Granvelle, Janvier 21. 2 Je demauday par plusieurs fois au medecin s'il y avoit quelque soub- ?on de vcnin. II me dit qu'il s'en doubtoit, car depuis qu'elle avoit Ir.-it 528 Appendix. rumour which was probably without a shadow of foundation would soon have died away. In the atmosphere of impas sioned animosity suspicion turned to certainty. The phy sician who afc first acknowledged that he had found no decided symptoms, assured himself on a second examination of the body that there was no room for doubt. Every other organ was sound and healfchy, but the hearfc was black. The crime was bufc too certainly proved,* The King was not suspecfced. Dark as was Chapuys' opinion of Henry, he never dreamt for a moment fchat he would have consented to or prompted murder. All was charged upon the miserable Anne ; and as it had fared with the mother so he was assured it would fare wifch the daugh ter, Charles's letter, adrising that the Queen and Princess should yield at the last exfcremity, reached the ambassador while his grief and horror were fresh. The Queen was beyond fche reach of further trouble. The Princess re mained, however, and Chapuys could not contemplate wifchoufc alarm the probable resulfc of her compliance. Not only was there the objection, admitted by Charles himself, that infinite numbers of people would lose heart when they saw her yield, and would follow the new heresy, but there was another and a worse possibiUty which fche Emperor had nofc anticipated. The danger would no longer be that the King would proceed by way of law fco punish the Princess for disobedience. It would rather lie concealed behind a show of reconcUiation and a colour of kind treatment, " I am not afraid of tbe King," Chapuys said, "but of the concubine. She has offcen sworn that the ladies should both die, and, unless the King change his mind and check her lest the realm be set on fire, she will never rest tiU she d'une cervise de Galles elle n'avoit fait bien, et qu'il failloit que ue fust poison termiuee et artificieuse, car il ne veoit les signes de simple et pur venin et a I'ouvrir I'on en veue les indices. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Janvier 9. 1 La chose estoit trop verifl^e. — A I'Empereur, Janvier 21. Appendix. 529 has accomplished her desire or whUe either of them re mains alive She will have better means and oppor tunities than before to execute her accursed purpose and give the Princess poison. There wUl be less distrust, and she will think it can be done without exciting suspicion, for the Princess having yielded to the King's pleasure, and having been reconcUed to him and kindly treated and restored to her rights, there wUl then be no fear of harm to her, and ff she dies uo misgirings of foul play," * The ill-feeling towards Anne was not diminished by the unconcealed satisfaction which she displayed when the news of Catherine's death arrived afc the Court, She gave Lord Montague, who informed her of it, a handsome pres ent. Her father, Lord WUtshire, her brother Rochford, and all her party united with her in indecent exultation ; her father and brother especially saying the only misfor tune was that the daughter had not borne the mother company. The King, though he showed some natural emotion, yet was no less politically gratified, " Praise be to God ! " he exclaimed, " we are now out of danger of war. Now we wUl give the French a lesson, and teach tbem how to trifle with us." The obstacle was removed to his reconcUiation with fche Emperor, and Cromwell as entirely expecfced a reconcUiation with the Pope. " In a few days," CromweU 1 Je ne cuyde pas du Eoy mais [de] la concubine qui souvent a jur^ la mort de toutes deux et qui ne sera oncques en repoz qu'elle n'ayt accom- plie son desir (presupposant que selon la mutabilite de ce Eoy il n'y a arreste ne feu mecte en son estat) pendant que nuUe desdictes Dames vivra. Aura trop meilleur moyen et commodite d'executer sa mauldicte volunte et leur faire miuistrer venyn que paravant. Car I'on s'en mefie- roit moings, et d'ailleurs elle se penseroit faire sans suspicion. Car I'on presumei'oit que en ayant lesdictes Dames consentyes a tout ce que le roy vouloit et estant si bien reconciliees et tres favorahlement traictees, et que ayant rendu a leurs droicts, il n'y auroit plus a craindre qu'elles puissent nuyre, il ny auroit suspicion de leurs fait faire mauvais tour. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Janvier 21. [The continued use of the plural after Cath erine was dead was probably a mistake of the decipherer.] VOL. IL 34 530 Appendix. said at a dinner party in London, " we shall hear of the coming over of a legate." The religious aspect of the Reformation has so eclipsed the other features of it that we forget the poUtical cur rents which so strongly influenced its history. At this mo ment the Imperialist faction and the French faction at the English Court were as keenly opposed as CathoUcs were opposed afterwards to Protestants, Anne Boleyn was French ; her friends were French. She was identified with the change of policy which had dirided Henry from his hereditary ally, and a reversion to tbe old connection could not faU to affect materially her position and prospects. Her husband was free at last from Catherine, even in the eyes of the Roman Curia, and so far his bonds wdth her self might appear to be rather strengthened than loosened. If the Princess Mary was out of the way, both the Pope and Charles might now consent to recognize her as lawful Queen, On the other hand, the King's affection for her during the past year had for some reason or other been growing cool. The great English nobles, who from the first had borne her no good wUl, bad been stUl further alienated by her insolence and arbifcrary manners. In the last half-year their indignation had risen to fever beat from the belief that she was instigating Henry to destroy Cath erine and the Princess, Catherine she was now beUeved to have assassinated. And to them and to the Emperor and to the whole party witb which Henry would be now once more in close connection, bis separation from the woman whom half England regarded only as his concubine, and called his concubine, and who had been the occasion, if not the cause, of the quarrel of Henry with his old friends, could not faU to be welcome to aU of them as a propitiatory sacrifice, while a marriage with some other lady, which would be open to no suspicion, might satisfy tbe general craving for a male heir which Anne as weU as Catherine had disappointed, Anne was at present enceinte. Appendix. 531 If a boy came all would be well ; but she had miscarried of a son once — a second faUure might be dangerous. However this might be, the Princess Mary's restoration to her rank was likely to follow sooner or later on a rec onciliation with Charles — that is, ff the Princess Mary was aUowed to continue alive. Either with the treacherous purpose attributed to her by Chapuys, or, far more likely, from a sense that the Princess' friendship might be more useful to her than her enmity, Anne, who had hitherto turned Mary into ridicule (dont toutefois elle ne se fait que rire), now made advances to her. She wrote to adrise her to comply with her fafcher's wishes, and in the event of her doing so promised to use her influence to replace her in his favour, Mary, whose natural abhorrence of Anne was now aggra vated by grief and despair, who believed that Anne had murdered her mother, and possibly intended the same kind ofiice to herseff, replied indignantly that she would sooner die a hundred times than change her opinion or act against her honor and conscience,. Angry at the rejection 'of ber overtures, Anne aUowed herself to be carried away by her temper, and wrote a let ter to Mrs, Shelton, Mary's governess, which Chapuys called a defamatory libel (livel diffamatoire contre la prin cesse), a letter perhaps which conceals some latent misgiv ing behind a tone of affected haughtiness, Mrs, Shelton may have shown it to her ward, Mary at any rafce pro cured a copy, and sent it to Chapuys, Mrs. Shelton, — My pleasure is that you no further seek to move the Lady Mary towards the King's grace other than as he himself directed iu his own words to her. What I have done myself has been more from charity than because the King or I can care what cour^ she takes, or whether she will change or will not change her purpose. When I shall have a son, as soon I look to have, I know what then will come to her. Remembering the word of God that we should do good to our enemies, I have wished to give her notice before the time, because, by my daily experience, I know the wisdom of the King to be such that he will not value her repentance on the cessation of her madness and unnatural obsti- 532 Appendix. nacy when she has no longerpower to choose. She would acknowledge her errour and evil conscience, by the law of God and the King, if blind affection had not so sealed her eyes that she will not see but what she pleases. Mrs. Shelton, I beseech you trouble not yourself to tum her from any of her wilful ways, for to me she can do neither good nor ill. Do your own duty towards her, following the King's commandment, as I am assured that you do aud will do, and you shall find me your good- lady whatever comes. Your good mistress, Anne E. In writing this letter Anne probably expressed more confidence than she felt. Henry's mind wl*s stUl as fixed as ever on the hope which had formed his plea for sepa rating from Catherine. The kingdom required a male heir, and if she feUed herself to provide it she was begummg to fear that he would look elsewhere as be had looked before. Chapuys was not hopeful. The King at a great baU at the Court had carried the Princess Ehzabeth ostentatiously in his arms. She had been taken to mass witb trumpets and a trium.phal procession. More than ever it had seemed that his hopes and his affection were centered on the off spring of the concubine,^ Yet there was a whisper in the air which he was rather inclined to ridicule than to believe, yet wbicb he thought it worth his whUe to communicate to the Emperor, " A few days since," he wrote on January 29, " I beard from several quarters that the concubine, notwithstanding the delight which she displayed at the news of the good Queen's death, yet nevertheless has since been often seen in tears, fearing that they may venture to deal witb her as they dealt with that good Queen, This morning a message has come to me from the lady I mentioned in my letter of 1 Le jour suyvant qui fust le Dimanche ce Eoy fust tout accoustr^ de jauue de pied a cap, s'il ne fust la plume blanche qu'il avoit, au bonnet, et fust la petite bastarde couduicte a la Messe avec trompettes et aultres grans triomphes. L'apres diner le Eoy se trouva en la sale ou dansoient les Dames, et la comme transport^ de joye fist plusieurs choses. En fin il fist querrir la petite bastarde, et la pourtant entre ses bras il I'alloit mon- strant a ung puis a I'autre. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, Janvier 21. • Appendix. 533 the && of November, and from her husband " (the Mar quis and Marchioness of Exeter), " how they had been advertised by a chief person at the Court that the King had said to some one as a greafc secrefc, and as it were in confession, that he had married this woman seduced and constrained by " sorfcileges," and for thafc cause he held the marriage void, God, he said, bad made it clear to him, haring " . , , , (word illegible in the MS,) " promised that he should have a male chUd, He conceived that be might take another wife, as he impUed that he desired to do. It is hard for me to believe this, though it came from good authority, I wiU note carefully what indications there may be that it is true," ^ Fortune was not Ajine Boleyn's friend. On the 29th of January, the day on which Queen Cafcherine was buried, the unlucky Anne was confined with a dead boy. The King was much agitated,^ During the three preceding months he had not spoken ten times to her. He went to her bedside when he learnt his misfortune, but said merely it was but too plain that God would give him no male chU dren, and then turning away and leaving her, he added, ungraciously, that when she was recovered he would speak with her,' ^ n y a quelques jours qu'il me fust dit de divers lieux ou je n'adjoustois grande foy que la concubine de ce Eoy non obstant qu'elle eust monstr^ grande joye des nouvelles du treppas de la bonne Eoyne, que toutefois depuis elle avoit souvent larmoy^ s'en doubtant que I'on oseroit faire d'elle comme de la bonne Eoyne. A ce matin I'on m'est venu dire de la part de la Dame mencionn^e en mes lectres du vi de Novembre et de son mari qu'ilz estoient advertis d'une des principaulx de Court que oe Eoy avoit deu dine a quelcung par grand secret et comme en confession qu'il avoit faict ce manage seduict et constrainct de sortileges, et que a ceste cause il tenoit cedict mariage nul. Et que bien le monstroit Dieu qui . . , promectoit avoir ligne masculine. Et qu'il tenoit qu'il en pouvoit prendre une autre — ce qu'il donnoit a entendre avoyt envye de faire. La chose m'est bien difficile a croyre, oyres qu'elle soit venu de bon lieu. J'auray soing de considerer quelle apparence ou indiee y aura. — Chapuys a I'Em pereur, Janvier 29. ' De quoy ledict Eoy a demonstr^ grand deuil et tristesse. ' J'entends de plusieurs de ceste Court qu'il y a pass^ trois mois que <^ 534 Appendix. She was very miserable. She accused the Duke of Nor folk, whom Chapuys teUs us she stUl hated, as having been the cause of her calamity, by the rudeness with which a week before he had delivered her a message from the King. But the Duke insisted that there had been nothing either in the message or in the manner in which it was delivered to agitate her, and that she had received it without signs of disturbance. Some people said thafc she was constitu tionally unable to bear children ; others, thafc she feared the King might treat her as the late Queen had been treated. Report whispered that he had lately made large presents to a lady at the Court named Jane Seymour,^ Anne said thafc her love for the King was deeper than the love of fche late Queen ; and that her heart was broken when she saw his affection given to others. The King, though it was Carnival time and there was a bigh festival at Greenwich, preferred to leave her there, and remained alone in London,^ The position of Mary, meanwhile, was sUghtly improved. Cromwell sent to tell Chapuys that on ber mother's death it was proposed to increase her establishment, as a step towards her restoration to ber rank as Princess, The am bassador could but pray that there . was no scorpion con- Eoy ne parle dix fois a la concubine, et que quand elle abortit il ne luy tint gueres autres propos, synon qu'il voyoit bieiLque Dieu ne luy vouloit donner enfans masles. En s'en allant, comme pour depit, il luy dit assez de laaale grace que apres qu'elle soit relev^e qu'il parleroit a elle. — Chapuys A I'Empereur, 29 F^v. 1 Treuvent les ungs que cela soit precede de I'indisposition de sa personne et inhabilite de porter enfans, et les autres dient que c'est pour craincte que ledict Eoy ne la traicte comme la feue Eoyne, veumesmement le trayn et termes qu'ilz tiennent avec une demoiselle de Court nommee maistresse Seymour, a la quelle, selon que dient plusieurs, il a fait ces jours de grans presens. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, 10 F^v. 2 Pourvu que l'amour qu'elle luy portoit estoit trop plus grande . . . que celle de la feue Eoyne ; de sorte que le cueur luy rompoit quand elle veoit qu'il en aymoit des autres, duquel propoz ledict Eoy a este fort mary et en fait bien le semblant, veu que ces jours de teste et bonne chiere il est icy, et laisse I'autre a Greenwich la ou autrefois ne la pouvoit abandonner une Jtstae, — Chapuys a I'Empereur, 29 F^v. Appendix. 535 cealed beneath the honey. The King, he understood, had only waited to compel her to swear to the Statutes till the concubine had produced the prince, of whom both he and she had made sure. He adrised her, in compliance with the Emperor's instructions, to offer, if a prince was actually born, to submit to her father's pleasure, and meantime to en deavour to please the lady in whose charge she was placed, Anne Boleyn's overtures in the same direction the Princess had met, as we have seen, with the most deter mined coldness. She as little liked the advice of Chapuys, and her whole mind continued to be fixed upon her escape to the Continent,^ Anne herself sought consolation for her calamity in fresh hopes for fche future. She comforted the ladies who were weeping round her with telling them that it was perhaps for the best. The chUd which she had lost had been con ceived in the late Queen's Iffefcime, and there mighfc be a question of its legitimacy. No uncertainty would attach to the next,'' " She admits thus," observed Chapuys, " that there is a doubt aboufc her bastard daughter," " The King's new love affair with the lady I have already mentioned," he continued, " goes steadily forward, to the concubuie's extreme rage. The King introduced the lady's brother into the privy chamber a fortnight ago. It is re garded as a good sign ' that the matter wUl not be broken off," About the same time Chapuys received a message from 1 Chapuys a I'Empereur, F^v. 17. 2 L'on m'a dict que la concubine . . . consoloit ses Demoiselles qui plenroient, leur disant que c'estoit pour le mieulx, car elle en seroit tant plus tost ensaincte, y que le filz qu'elle pourteroit no serqit dubieux comme fust este icelle, estant con(;eu du vivant de la Eoyne. — Chapuys a Gran velle, 25 FSv. * Les nouvelles amours de ce Eoy avec la demoyselle dont ay cydevant escript vont tousjours en avant a la grosse raige de la concubine ; et le dict Eoy puis quinze jours mis en la chambre le frfere de ladicte demoiselle que l'on tient a bon sign pour le progres desdicts amours. — Chapuys a Granvelle, 18 Mars. ' Ik 536 Appendix. CromweU, begging for a private conversation with him, after Mass, on the Eve of St. Matthias, February 23, at St, Augustine's Church. Cromwell told him that great efforts were being made by Lord WUtshire, Anne's father, and by others who had pensions from France, to induce the King to declare war against the Emperor, Both the King, and he and the country generally were very reluctant, and be trusted that Chapuys would assist him in removing the ground of difference between such old allies as England and the House of Burgundy, Chapuys said that the King must retrace many of his past steps. He must submit to the Holy See, and must recognize the legitimacy of the Princess Mary — both these measures were indispensable preliminaries, Cromwell answered fchat on these points the King would be bard to move. He was determined to maintain the in dependence of the English Crown. To acknowledge the Princess legitimate was to allow the supremacy of the Pope, and to fchis his masfcer would never consent. He was willing, however, to assist the Emperor with men and money in bringing France to reason. He suggested — and Chapuys enclosed a curious fragment in Cromwell's hand embodying his proposal — fchat Charles should write private letters tb the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and to the Duke of Richmond also, Henry's Ulegitimate son, who both in mind and body singularly resembled bis father,^ Charles himself now appears on the scene, replying par ticularly to the points which Cromwell had raised, " The withdrawal of the King from the Church of Rome," he replied to Chapuys, " and the measures which he has taken in opposition to it, are points of great im portance. He may find a difflculty in turning back. His pride may stand in the way. He may be ashamed of show- 1 Duques Henry de Eichmond, Thomas de Norfolk, Charles de Suffolk — ad quem si dignabitur scribere Csesar non erit meo judicio abs re . . ,- Id enim iu optimam partem interpretabitur pater quem non magis corporis lineameutis quam animi dotibus referre certum est. Appendix. 537 ing himself irresolute, both before the world and even be fore his own subjects,* and he is obstinate in his own opinions. You may lay before him such considerations as you think most Ukely to weigh with him — the peril of his soul, the division, schism, and confusion in his realm, and the manffest danger should the Pope proceed to execute the censures already threatened, to pronounce him deposed, and to call on the kings and princes of Christendom to carry the decree into effect. Whatever comes of it, both he and his adherents cannot but be kept in continual anx iety, and although he may sustain his present course during his own Ufe (which he cannot do without great perU and difficulty), he wUl inevitably leave fche gravest calamities to those who come after him. Tell him that he will do far betfcer to take measures himself for the safety of his realm m time. He can do it without difficulty, either by refer ring the questions at issue to the decision of fche CouncU, or by trusting to myseff to negotiate for him with the Holy See, He may rely on me to settle matters as honourably and favourably for him as possible. K you can learn from hun the terms to which he will agree, it wiU be all the better, for we shaU gain time. And it is likely that he wiU be more willing to consent to a compromise than bind him seff to submit either to the CotmcU or to my arbitration. In every way this wUl be the best, for otherwise he wUl do aU in his power to impeach tbe CouncU, or," though he consents to its meeting, wUl adhere to those wbo have separated from the Church, so that any general remedy wUl become more difficult. It wUl be easier to treat with him particularly beforehand, and I shaU be better able to mediate with the Pope without scruple or jealousy. The points of which he complains are the sentence at Rome in the divorce cause, the private interests of England in the matter of annates, and the other claims preferred by the Holy See upon that realm. The first may be comprehended in some general 1 Sera plus difficile pour la honte du monde et mesme de ses subjetz. 538 Appendix. arrangement to be made for the Princess ; * the annates can be moderated, wifch a declaration limiting the Pope's remaining pretensions ; and as to the authority of the Church of England, you can persuade the King 'that some appointment shall be taken to his own honour, and the profit and the welfare of the realm.^ In all your communications you must speak as of yourself, in the form of interrogato ries, till you know in what fche King wUl persist, I can agree to nothing to the diminution or prejudice of the Roman Church without the consent of the Pope, You may only underfcake for me that I will do all that I can in his interests. If you find him obsfcinate you wUl not faU, notwithstanding, to ascertain his intenfcion on the other points. Provided I am not to be obliged to sustain or sup port him in his errors, I am content, rather than break off the treaty, to leave these matters in abeyance, to be settled hereafter. As to my cousin, you must avoid by all possible means consenting to or doing anything by which the hon our of the late Queen, my aunt, shaU be touched," ' So far as the Church was concerned, there were no signs that Henry thought of retracing his steps, ParUament had again met, and had passed the Act for the suppression of the smaUer monasteries. Another marriage for the King was stUl being talked of, but as the Emperor's intentions were stUl uncertain, Wolsey's original project was rerived, and there was an idea of applying to Francis for the band of a French princess,^ CromweU was supposed to have a ^ I suppose this to be Charles's meaning. His words are: Quant au premier, il pourroit cesser en venant a traicter de ce que conceme la Princesse nostre consine. 2 Et aussi quant a I'auctoritiS de I'Eglise Anglicaue l'on pourroit persua der au Eoy que la chose se appoinoteroit a son honneur, prouffit et bien du Eoyaulme. 8 L'Empereur a Chapuys, 28 Mars. ^ H se bruyoit de quelque nouveaux mariage pour le Eoy qui conformoit avecques . . . [word illegible] de France. . . . Les Messieurs de la Conrt disoyent que le Eoy fusse solicitor a mariage la fille de France a ceste oc casion. —Chapuys a I'Empereur, 1 Avril, 1636. Appendix. 539 hand in this project ; and afc the end of March, the Mar chioness of Exefcer, the Countess of Kildare, Lord Mon tague, and others, informed Chapuys that Anne Boleyn and the minister were on bad terms in consequence. To discaver if there was any truth in these rumours, Cha puys called on Cromwell, and fcold him that he had omitted of lafce to visit him in consequence of Queen Anne's threats to take his head off, Cromwell, he said, deserved a more gracious mistress, better able to appreciate his inestimable services to his master, Cromwell affected to be pleased. He replied that he was but too well aware of fche instability of human things, es peciaUy of the favour of Courts, He had ever before his eyes, he said, the fate of his predecessors, and had made his account to fare as they had fared. If the worst came he would arm himseff with patience, and leave the rest to God, He then went on to express his regret for the part which he had taken in advancing the King's marriage with Anne, He had seen the King to be bent upon ifc, however, and all that he had done had been to show him the means by whioh it could be brought about. The King seemed now inclined to seek the society of other ladies,* but he trusted that there would be no fresh changes, and that his master would now continue to live with her honourably and chastely. There was something peculiar in Cromwell's manner, Chapuys looked at him keenly. He was leaning against a window, with one hand over his mouth, whether by accident or to conceal a smUe Chapuys did not know. One thing, Cromwell continued, the French might assure themselves of, that if the King intended to take another wffe he would not go to look for her in Paris,° Chapuys was closing the letter in which he wag forwarding this information, when the Marchioness of Exeter sent to teU him that the King haring been lately in London and ' Le Eoy son maistre fut encores incline a festoyer et servir Dames. 2 Chapuys a I'Empereur, 1 Avril. 540 Appendix. Mistress Seymour at Greenwich, the King had sent her a purse fuU of sovereigns, with a letter which she had kissed and had returned unopened to the bearer. She had thrown herself on her knees, and had bidden the messenger entreat the King to remember that she was the chUd of honest parents, with an unstained name, thafc she valued nothing so much as her honour; and thafc she would not wound it for any reward that would be offered to her. If he wished to make her a present, she begged him to keep it tUl God sent him some one to marry.* Jane Seymour, it is here necessary to say, had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine. She was deeply at tached, as will be seen hereafter, to fche Princess Mary, She was herself sfcrongly Imperialist, and supposing the charges against Anne of having endeavoured to destroy Mary were well grounded, she is likely to have shared the feeling of all the Imperialist party about her. Like them, she probably regarded Anne as no better than the King's mistress, and felt no scruple whatever therefore in desiring to see him married to another woman. Whether she sought the position for herself may be uncertain. There is no sign at all that she hesitated to accept it, " The Marchioness tells me," continued Chapuys, " that the King's inclination for Mistress Seymour was marvel lously increased by her answer. He said that she was a virtuous woman, and that she might understand that his in tentions were strictly honourable, he would only speak with her in future in the presence of one of her relations. He has removed Cromwell from a room to which be had private access by a gaUery, and has placed there the lady's eldest brother vrith his wffe, so that he can see her when he pleases," 1 Qu'elle estoit issue de bons et honorables parens sans nul reproche, et qu'elle n'avoit plus grande richesse en ce moude que son honneur, le quel pour nulle . . . elle ne vouldroit blesser, et que s'il luy vouloit faire quel que present d'argent elle luy supplioit que ce fust quand Dieu luy envoyoit quelque party de mariage. Appendix. 541 " Mistress Seymour has been well indoctrinated by the greater part of fche King's friends, who hate the concubine, that she must show him no sort of complaisance unless as his wife. On this she is ftiUy resolved. She has been advised also to tell the King hardily that he is living in unexampled abomination, thafc not a creature regards his marriage as legitimate.* When she has opened the matter there will be others fco tell him the same, provided he obliges them to speak on their oath and on their '^loyalty.^ " The Marchioness says also that I or some one else on the part of your Majesty should lend a hand to the affair ; and, indeed, I think it will be weU ff we can bring it to effect, as well for the assurance of the person of the Prin cess, as to apply a remedy to the heresies here, of which the concubine is the cause and the chief nurse, and also to extricate the King from his present abominable and worse than incestuous connection. The Princess will be well pleased also, although she may lose the succession by the birth of a male heir," ^ St, George's Day was now approaching, A series of fetes was projected at Greenwich, which were to extend from the 20th of AprU to the beginning of May, The Emperor's ambassador was inrited, and was received wifch marked attention, CromweU took an opportunity of pri vately repeating to him how anxious the King was for a return to cordiality with his master. He went so far as to hint that a reconcUiation wifch Rome was not wholly im possible. Lord Rochford said something poUte to him on 1 La quelle est bien endoctrin^e de la plus part des priv^s du Eoy qui hay- ent la concubine, qu'elle ne doyt en sorte du monde complaiser a la fan- tasie du Eoy, si n'est par tiltre de mariage, de quoy elle est toute resolue. II luy est aussi conseill^e qu'elle die hardiment au Eoy quelle abhominacion a toute exemple son mariage, et que nul le tient pour legitime. 2 The decipher of this sentence is very obscure. I read the words : Et ail pointe qu'elle proposera ladicte affaire il b^ doit avoir que qui proposeroient les mesmes, pourveu que le Eoy les constrainge sur le jure- ment et fidelity que luy ont. 2 Chapuys a I'Empereur, 1 Avril. 542 Appendix. the advantages of the Imperial alliance. Chapuys, though he abhorred him, received his advances smoothly, saying that he trusted he would lend his assistance in a matter of so much importance to Christendom. Rochford turned the talk upon Lufcheranism, bufc Chapuys evaded fche dangerous subject. Cromwell fchen came again to him with a message from Henry. The King, he said, would be gratified if he would pay a risit to " the concubine " and give her the kiss of peace.* He left it, however, to Chapuys' pleasure, Cha puys replied that his pleasure was the King's — the King had oiUy to command him. He thought, however, that for various respects, which at anofcher time he would explain to his Majesty, such a risit would jusfc then be out of place. The King took his answer in good part. Mass was said, to which Chapuys was conducted by Rochford. When the King entered there was a rush of people to see how Anne would receive Chapuys, She made him a deep obeisance, which he returned, and she passed on. When the serrice was over, the King and a number of the peers retired to dine in Anne's apartments, Chapuys might have foUowed, but declined ; Lord Rochford conducted him to the Pres ence Chamber, where he dined with the courtiers. In the afternoon he had an interview vrith Henry, who received him bonnet in hand, and was profuse in his ex pressions of good-wUl towards the Emperor. The King, however, was most decided in refusing to have any further dealings with the Pope, Neither his relations with the Pope, he said, nor the position of the Pjrincess, were any concern of the Emperor's, He persistently decUned to recognize the Princess' legitimacy, but was otherwise gra cious, and spoke at great length on the condition of Eu rope, with which he seemed to be wholly absorbed,^ Whatever else might iiave been intended, there had been 1 That I suppose to be the meaning of " visiter et baiser la concubine." 2 Chapuys & I'Empereur, 21 Avril. Appendix. 543 evidently, up to this time, no thought of charging Anne with personal criminality. Politics was the foremosfc sub ject wifch every one. The fortunes of the unhappy woman who was about to be fche objecfc of so fcremendous an accu sation were of interest only so far as her overthrow or her refcenfcion of her place beside the King would affect the balance of polifcical power, A decent excuse for divorcing her was being eagerly looked for by the party which had been putting forward Jane Seymour, One of them had consulted Stokesly, the Bishop of London, The Bishop had answered warily fchat he would give his opinion fco no one but fche King, nor to the King, unfcU he had discovered which way the King's inolinafcion lay. He would not risk the effects of Anne's revenge ff there was a chance of her remaining in favour,* The Bishop, Chapuys added, had been one of the chief instruments of the first divorce. He now repented of it with all his heart, and would be more willing to further the second, the concubine and all her race being such abomina ble Lutherans, Could Henry have made up his mind to restore the Papal authority, the divorce of Anne would have presented no difiiculfcy ; and this, perhaps, was tbe meaning of a few words which Chapuys wrote to GranveUe about CromweU. Cromwell, he said, had done everything in his power to induce the King to meet the Emperor's wishes. He had risked Henry's displeasure by the freedom with which he had spoken to him, and had taken to his bed for vexation at finding him so detestably obstinate,^ The difficulty was to declare the second marriage null 1 Le frfere de M. de Montague me dit en dinant que I'Evesque de Londres avoit este interrogu^ si ce Eoy pourroit habandonner la dwite concubine, et qu'il n'en avoit point voulu dire son advis ne le diroit au personne de moude que au seul Eoy ; et avant que ce faire il vouldroit espier la fanta- sie dudict Eoy ; veuiUant innuyr que le dict Eoy pourroit laisser ladicte concubine — toutefois congnoissant I'inconstance et mutabilite de ledict Eoy, il ne vondroit mettre en dangier de ladicte concubine. ^ Chapuys k Granvelle, 21 Avril. 544 Appendix. without acknowledging fche validity of the first — Henry, it seems, having made up his mind that come what would the Papal power should never be reinstated.* It has been seen fchat Anne had surrounded herself with the most bifcfcer enemies. There were the orthodox, who hated her and her family as the patrons of the Lutherans, There were fche Imperialists, who defcested her as French, There were the peers, whom, like the Duke of Norfolk, she had offended by her arrogance in the days of her favour. There were those who believed that she had poisoned Queen Catherine ; and fchere were others who, with better reason, were assured thafc she had advised the King to execute his daughter. Their tongues had been fcied while she was sup ported by Henry's affecfcion. Like the Bishop of London, they had waited till they were assured that she had lost it. But no sooner was it whispered that he was really anxious to be rid of her, than the accumulated malice of months and years, truths, fictions, exaggerations, blended and whirled together, were ready prepared to burst out. She had been miserably imprudent. She had allowed gentlemen about the Court to be dangerously intimate with her. She had talked to them, by her own subsequent acknowledgment, of the King's infij-mities, and of their hopes of her hand when he should be gone. She had jested, as wUl be seen here after, wifch her brother's wffe on a yet more perilous subject. Whether she had done worse may be reasonably doubted ; but trifles such as these, seen through fche medium of iU-wUl, might easUy be magnified infco damning eridence of guUt, The first discovery was her early love affair with the young Earl of Northumberland, Some said she had been engaged to him — an engagement under the Canon law being sufficient to invalidate a subsequent union with an other person — some that she had been actuaUy married fco 1 Quelqungs de son conseil luy donnant entendre qu'il ne S(;!auroit sepa- rer de la dicte concubine sans tantement confirmer non seulement le premier mariage, mais aussi que plus il remit I'auctorite du Fape, — Chapuys k I'Empereur, 2 Mai. Appendix. 545 him,* Northumberland denied it when questioned, but he could hardly do otherwise without exposing himself to a serious charge. Witnesses were forthcoming ready to prove the story ; and some real past connection may, per haps, have been the cause of the bitterness with which, as we have seen, Northumberland regarded Anne, The King had determined to acfc upon this evidence. But either something of a darker character was now reaUy suspected, or a mere divorce was insufficient to satisfy the concentrated malice which she had provoked. There was a Garter vacant by the death of some French nobleman. It was given fco the Master of the Horse, Sir Nicholas Carew, though Anne had laboured hard to obtain it for Rochford. Carew, though Anne was his cousin, re- senfced her interference, and with the rest of the conspirators renewed his entreaties to Jane Seymour to use her influ ence fco precipitate her faU. On the 25th of April, Carew and certain others of the Household sent word to the Prin cess Mary that she might be of good cheer, for her adver saries wotdd very shortly be disposed of. The King was as weary of the concubine as he could possibly be," We now come to the 2d of May, the day on which the cloud broke in a form so terrible and apparently so unex pected, " Your Majesty,'' Chapuys wrote to the Emperor, " wUl 1 Ores que la dicte crime ne fut este descouvert, ce Eoy, a ce que j'ay ces jours este advertye de bonnes et certainee personnes, avoit dehbere la habandonner, car il y avoit des tesmoings tous conformes testifians que mariage avoit passe neuf ans . . . este fait et . . . chamellement entre elle et le conte de Northumberland. — Chapuys 4 I'Empereur, 2 Mai. 2 Ne tiendra audict escuyer que ladicte concubine quelque cousine qu'elle n'en soit ne soit desarponnfe, et ne cesse de conseiUer maistresse Seymour avec autres conspirateurs pour luy faire une v^-ue. Et n'y a point quatre jours qne luy et certains de la Chambre out mand^ dire a la princesse qu'elle feit bonne chere et que bresvement sa contre partie met- troit de Here au vin, car le Eoy estoit deja si trist avec . . . et ennuye de la dicte concubine qu'il n'estoit possible de plus. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, 29 Avril. I am not sure that I have correctly read the words printed in italics. VOL. II. 35 546 Appendix. remember what I wrote to you at the commencement of the past month, touching what had passed between myself and Mr, Cromwell on the divorce of the King from the concubine, I ascertained the pleasure of the Princess on the subject. She desired that I should do my best to fur ther the matter, especially for the honour and discharge of the conscience of the King her father. She cared not fche least in the world that the King might [now] have lawful heirs who might deprive her of the succession,* whUe for the honour of God she pardoned all the world from her heart for what had been done against herself and against the late Queen her mother, I have [in consequence] used such means as seemed convenient to set the affair forward, both with Mr, CromweU and wifch many ofcher persons, of which so far I have not written to your Majesty tUl I saw how the affair would go. It has turned out, in my opinion, far better than any one could have anticipated, and with the greatest ignominy, by the justice and judgment of God, The concubine has been taken in the open daylight from Greenwich to the Tower of London, She was conducted thither by the Duke of Norfolk, the Lord Chamberlain, and the Vice-Chamberlain, and she has been left there alone, with four ladies to attend upon her. The report goes that it is for adultery, which she has long carried on with a mu sician of her chamber, who this morning was sent to the Tower also. Master Norris, one of the persons most inti mate with the King, has been committed for not having revealed what was going on ; six hours later three other gentlemen ; and three or four hours after his sister, Lord Rochford was committed also," With this hurriedly-written note Chapuys' confidential servant George was despatched to Brussels, Lord Howard wrote at tbe same time to Granvelle, saying that he under- 1 La quelle volunte estoit que deusse tenir main audict affaire et princi- pajement pour I'honneur et descharge de conscience du Eoy son pere ; et qu'elle ne se soucioit eu fa9on du monde que ledict Eoy sou Pere peust avoir hoirs legitimes que luy ostassent la succession. Appendix. 547 stood " the concubine " had been surprised in bed with the King's organist.* Granvelle received Lord Howard's letter before the ar rival of Chapuys' messenger. The Emperor wrote imme diately to tell Chapuys to fcake advantage of the opporfcunity to press forward the alliance. He sent the letters which Cromwell had recommended to the three Dukes, " K Lord Howard's news be true," Charles said, " it is probable that as God has permitted this woman's damnable Iffe to be discovered, the King wUl be more inclined to treat with us, and there wUl be betfcer ground for arranging what con cerns our cousin the Princess, But you must use all your skUl to prevent the King from inclining to a marriage with France, He must rather choose one of his own subjects — either her for whom he has already shown an inclination or some other," So far the Emperor had written when Chapuys' servant arrived, " George has just come," Charles continued, " and I have learnt from him the certainty of these news touching Uie concubine. We suppose that the King wUl put her to death, as she has well deserved, with all the partners of her gidlt, and that, being of an amorous complexion, and being, as he has always alleged or pretended, desirous of a male chUd, he wUl now take another wffe. Overtures wUl certainly be made to him on the side of France, You will endeavour, as of yourself or with Cromwell, to fiirther a marriage for him wifch the Infanta of Portugal, the daugh ter of my sister the Queen of France, who has a settlement by wUl of 400,000 ducats. You wiU propose at the same time another marriage, between the Princess Mary and the In fant of Portugal, Don Louis, my brother-in-law. You will give them to understand that these alliances wUl be very convenient to efface past unpleasantness, and cement a union * Le visconte Howard a escript a Si^ de Granvelle que au mesme instant il avoit entendu de bon lieu que la concubine dudict Eoy avoit este surprise conch^e avec Porganiste du dict Eoy. 548 Appendix. between myself, the King, Portugal, and our realms and countries. You will indicate how advantageous such an alliance wiU prove to the realm of England should a prince be the fruit of it ; and for this we may reasonably hope, the Infanta being young and weU nurtured," * " M, I'Ambassadeur, my good brother and friend," wrote Granvelle to Chapuys simultaneously, "I have received your letter by your man George ; I have heard his com mission. You have done weU fco adverfcise us of what has passed fcouching the ' concubine,' which is indeed music of a high sort, and worthy of laughter," God is revealing the iniquity of fchose from whom so many mischiefs have arisen, and since it is so we must make our profit and conduct mafcfcers the best we can, according to the Emperor's in structions. Use all diligence and aU possible dexterity. Besides the immense advantage which wiU follow, both public and private, you will yourself thus obtain the re ward of your true and faithful services," ° A third letter followed three days later from the Em peror, repeating his offers vrith stUl greater urgency ; and it is noticeable that in no one of these despatches is any condition made or any stipulation hinted at for a reconcilia tion with the Papacy, Charles perhaps expected that it would follow as a matter of course, and that the less he said aboufc it the betfcer. It is clear further, that although the Emperor was aware of the conspiracy against Anne, which had been going forward throughout the spring, he must have looked upon it wifch as much satisfaction as the Princess Mary, and that not a suspicion crossed his mind that the " concubine " was being unfairly dealt with, MeanwhUe CromweU had been intrusted with the duty of investigating the particular accusations. He told Cha puys afterwards that it had caused him the greatest distress, 1 L'Empereur a Chapuys, 15 Mai. 2 Qui a la verite est une musique de haulte genre et digne de rn?e. 8 M. Granvelle a I'Ambassadeur de I'Angleterre, 15 Mai. Appendix. i- 549 He used the remarkable expression, that the vexation and annoyance which he had felt at the King's language to Cha puys at Greenwich had set him upon inquiring into the business, and that one of the things which had roused his suspicions had been a prophecy made in Flanders threaten ing the King with a conspiracy from parties nearest about his person. He praised highly the sense, the spirit, and the heart, both of the concubine and her brother.* Imperfect as fche eridence stUl remains, ifc is unfair to build theories on casual observations which themselves come to us afc second-hand. Cromwell's words, however, as they stand, suggest misgivings. He had quarreUed with Anne, and she had threatened him with fche scaffold. He had been active in promoting her divorce. He had recommended the King, as a step towards it, to accept the Emperor's overtures, even though they involved a reconcUiation with the Pope, and the King had angrily refused. If Anne maintained her place, his own situation could nofc faU to be most dangerous ; and if he had been really playing a false game, the commendations of Anne and her brofcher, ofcher- wise 80 much out of place, become intelligible. That he was an unscrupulous polifcician has been seen already when he spoke to Chapuys " like Caiaphas," It is fair to add, however, that we know nothing of him which would justify a suspicion that he would be guilty of so hideous a crime as knowingly to forge a charge of adultery against a woman whom he knew to be innocent. At any rate, the case against Anne and " her accom- pUces " rapidly assumed shape. She was accused of haring 1 Lay avoit este I'autorite de descouvrir et parachever lesdictes affaires d'icelle concubine, en quoy il avoit eu une merveilleuse peine; et que sur le desplesur et couroux qu'il avoit eu surle responce que le Jloy son Maitre m'avoit donn^ le tiers jour de Pasques il se meet a fantasies de enquerir la dicte affaire ; et que une des choses que I'avoit mis en soubf on et anime pour s'enquerir du cas avoit este une prognostication faicte en Flandes, la quelle mena^oit ce Eoy d'une conspiration des plus proches de sa personne, et sur ce il me loua grandement le sens esprit et coeur de la dicte concubine et de son frere. — Chapuys a I'Empereur, 6 .luin. 550 Appendix. committed herseff with Mark Smeton the musician, with Sir Henry Norris, Sir WUliam Brereton, and Sir Francis Weston. She was charged besides with incesfc with her brother. Time, place, circumstances, all were given, and something must have been produced in the way of proof. There were grand juries and petty juries, A special com mission was appointed to try the four gentlemen. All the judges sat upon it, and among others the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne's father, Anne herseff and Lord Rochford were tried by the Peers, Mark Smeton pleaded guUty, He was treated in the Tower with exceptional severity, which does not look as ff he had been bribed to Ue, He had confessed from the first, and adhered to his confession to the last. The rest said they were innocent, but their state ments curiously varied, Chapuys' account of the trials is the most circumstantial which has come down to us. It is long, but its extreme interest forbids compression, A letter of the Emperor's, written before he had heard of Anne's arrest, arrived a day or two after it, Chapuys had been Ul, but he sent a copy to CromweU, who expressed himself delighted at the Emperor's expressions of good-wUl towards England, and gavchopes that the feeling would be reciprocated on tbe part of his master. Things could not, he said, be in better train than they were, especiaUy through what had happened in the matter of the concubine. He re minded Chapuys of what he had said to him on the Eve of St, Matthias, when he had foretold what was likely to hap pen. He professed great anxiety for Chapuys' convales cence, that when the concubine and her accompUces were despatched, he might come to Court and carry out his nego tiations, " Sire," Chapuys' letter continued, " no one coiUd have imagined the delight which tbe people are everywhere exhibiting, not so much for the ruin of the concubine as for the hope of the reinstatement of the Princess, So far the Appendix. 551 King shows no inclination to replace her. The Council have twice moved him about it, but he remains obstinate, I le.